The air was no longer perfumed by the sweet scent of flowers and harmonious laughter of happiness but by tight faces and narrowed eyes of suspicion. All eyes rested on Sunny, as if waiting to devour him for one wrong word. Iya's eyes stared at him, desperately pleading; her parents carried threats.
Sunny slowly stood, and the crowd followed his every action—the direction of his robe, the movement of his hands, and the path his legs took. Anyone in his shoes would be nervous and would break under such intense attention.
But he was Sunny, second in command after the leader, and one of the fiercest rogues dreaded by their enemies. Maybe this was a wedding, a ceremony that should be filled with laughter and harmony, but to him, it was a battlefield—one he had fought from the very moment he chose to save a life that did not deserve his kindness.
