Alizeh’s anger sharpened; she was growing tired of his childish jabs at her pride. “If you’re so keen to die,” she said, “why not let the devil do it?” “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, attempting a smile. “I watched you kill five mercenaries with an assortment of sewing supplies. I think I prefer your creativity.” “Wait— What?” She blinked, alarm awakening her pulse, which fluttered fast now against her throat. “You were there?” “I was there to protect the devil’s darling,” said Cyrus, his eyes darkening. “Clearly, he underestimated you.”
