"Character's risky. But entertaining." Alvaro's gaze lingered on her face, sharp and amused. "Tell me, Sasha—what are you doing with seventy kilos of theatrical chaos?"
"Business. Community improvement. Survival." Her laugh was brittle, her eyes saying what her mouth didn't: I may already be in too deep.
For a beat, his smile softened. Predatory edge gone, replaced with something startlingly human. "You have expensive taste in survival," he said.
"I only wanted quality."
Alvaro laughed—just a small, amused sound—then his face slid into something sharper. "Alright. Enough with the jokes. How about you tell me the truth?"
Sasha felt the question land like a ledger being closed. Had she been reckless ordering a hundred kilos of explosives and buying out half his armory? Maybe.
I would have bought the whole armory if I had more money.
