Esya, who'd just narrowly dodged death by a hair's breadth, was gasping for air, her breathing shallow and erratic. A thin film of sweat coated her face, while the clothes beneath her armor clung to her back, soaked with perspiration.
She'd come that close… Just one split second of distraction and she would've been done for.
The very thought triggered another surge from every sweat gland in her body, droplets pouring down in waves. But it wasn't fear that came next—it was shame. And fury. Her bold declaration of confidence to Jake only moments earlier now felt like a joke.
'So in the end… I haven't changed one damn bit.' Her lips curled into a bitter, self-deprecating smirk, a stab of despair she thought long since conquered piercing through her resolve like a rusty dagger.
