Chapter 101: The Anatomy of a Punch and Other Galactic Seductions
Kathrine ended her call with Hailey and immediately began rubbing her temples in frustration—like she was trying to physically massage a prophecy out of her skull.
"A bad omen's brewing," she muttered aloud to no one, eyes twitching around her suite like the shadows might confirm it. The migraine of impending bullshit was approaching, she just couldn't tell from which vector.
Her gaze caught something across the room—a quiet leviathan standing sentinel in her wardrobe.
Irvine's power armor.
And not just any armor. This thing was a war crime given form, humming with a stillness that dared you to blink first.
"Hm."
