The Canary Hears His Loudest Secrets
Language: en
I had been Wesley Ashford’s kept canary for three long years. The rules were incredibly simple: show up, perform our routine business, and then go back to my own room. Tonight, just like any other night, I sat up and prepared to slip away. Fuck, is that it? I barely even got warmed up! Now I have to wait another goddamn half-month? A harsh, thoroughly frustrated voice roared clearly inside my head. I froze, slowly turning around. Wesley’s face was still its usual ice-cold mask, his eyelids not even twitching. But that voice—there was absolutely no mistaking it. It was him. Somehow, I…