Scarlette's hands moved with steady precision as she peeled away the last of the cursed tattoos, the glowing sigils fading one by one under her touch.
When the last one dissolved, she finally let out a shaky breath and wiped the sweat from her brow, her sleeves already damp.
She'd worked through exhaustion, through pain, through silence.
But I was already watching her.
My powerhouse.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Scarlette crossed her arms, one brow raised in suspicion, though a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
"Just admiring your genius," I said, offering her a rare, genuine smile—one that felt almost foreign on my face.
Scarlette narrowed her eyes but didn't press further. She was too tired to fight me on compliments today.
"Come on, Ver… we need to decide what to do with these palace folks. I've already removed their tattoos. We can't keep them here forever."
The answer was obvious.
