Skylar's POV
The poster glared back at me, its presence taunting me across the dingy underground bar.
"Skylar Hale. Wanted: Dead or Alive."
The bold red letters stared back at me from across the bottom, almost screaming. The reward? Enough zeroes to make a billionaire blush.
"Guess they really want you gone, huh?" The stranger leaned against the bar beside me, sipping what smelled like cheap whiskey. Their smirk didn't make me feel any better.
Gee, thanks for pointing that out," I muttered, tugging my hood lower. The place reeked of spilt beer and desperation, but at least no one here seemed too interested in who I was. Yet.
They chuckled, swirling their glass. "Relax. No one here is stupid enough to try anything. They know the council's bounty comes with strings attached. You're not just any target, Skylar-you're their target. Big difference.
"Great, that's just really reassuring," I tossed back, oozing with sarcasm.
