A Silent Game of Spies

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Scollard

Scollard

That little bitch. If he ever found her, ever….

He had spent years customizing and building connections as Lord Drury. Now he would have to reemerge himself in another Court, after a significant, proper period of time had passed, of course. He would take the time to draw up the identities of false references. Perfection required time, and time such as he required fortunately he had the means to provide, for he had two modest estates, though neither under names he’d used in the last decade.

He kicked the inside of the carriage in an uncharacteristic display of temper.

One of the coachmen leaned toward the window. “Sir? Is everything satisfactory?”

“Just drive!” Scollard snarled.

If he ever found that little bitch – or perhaps it would be when. Yes, when. When he found that little bitch – he would look into her eyes and flay her. If he let her keep her eyes – scooping their eyes out while they stayed conscious was always a treat. But he would peel her skin, roll it back, quarter inch by quarter inch, and listen to her scream the entire time….

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