Chapter 131
Estela POV
"Should I add oranges?" Daphne asks, wrist flicking expertly as she pours the syrupy mix of fruit into a tall glass. The sun cuts soft light over her face, catching on the faint healing bruise at her jaw.
"That's fine," I murmur, watching her.
She's... handsome like this. Calm. Unburdened. She's wearing shorts and a simple short-sleeved shirt, her dark hair tied back carelessly, but it suits her—perfectly, maddeningly so.
If I hadn't seen her last night—blood-streaked and silent, moving like some asura torn from hell itself—I'd have thought I dreamt it.
She hadn't even looked at me when she entered. Just dropped her weapons, stripped off her bloodied suit jacket, and walked straight into the shower. The water had run for nearly half an hour.
Then she'd collapsed, half-naked, half-dead, across the bed.
