Book 18: Through the Wards

Zayn

I hate to admit that Fallon won this time. It took approximately two minutes of threats while waving around my employee file for me to find myself on the edge of my unmade bed with Fallon standing between my knees, her dainty hand gripping my shoulder to keep me still.

She danced around the fact that she knows I’m not originally from the Roguelands. She made it clear that she’s under the impression I want my background, whatever it is, kept secret, which is why my file is so thin, and several important chunks on most forms have been left blank on purpose. Her parents didn’t seem to care, but Fallon does. She made a single promise to never ask about my past as long as I’d allow her to fix me up.

So I agreed, even if her touch feels like a cool kind of fire–something foreign–something that threatens to undo everything I’ve promised myself I wo