A House of Velvet and Fangs
Language: en
I was leaning against the foyer console, buckling the strap of my Italian leather loafers, when the floating crimson text flashed across my vision. He’s actually going? Vanessa’s a deadbeat gambling addict running a shakedown. The second he hits the expressway, the cut brake lines kick in—car flips, he’s pulverized on impact. My hands froze mid-buckle. What the hell was I looking at? Before my brain could process the hallucination, the empty air in front of me ruptured. A deluge of glowing, translucent commentary cascaded across my field of view like a live chat feed on hyperdrive. If this…