There was one thing people in this world didn't know about me: I was unrivaled in a scrap.
As an involuntary agent for the God of War across forty-nine lifetimes, it was nearly impossible not to learn a thing or two about combat. I'd survived trenches, sieges, and duels; I knew how to move my body better than almost anyone.
Except, of course, if we were talking about the five geniuses I was supposedly destined to procreate with. If they were as "exceptional" as the mission claimed, my strength might as well be a suggestion.
So, staring up at the silver-haired man's irritating smirk from above the freezing water, I had only one thing on my mind. And, it had everything to do with homicide.
"Turn. Around," I warned through gritted teeth. I lifted a dripping finger, gesturing sharply.
My brows were knitted so tight in a glare it was a wonder they didn't fuse together.
