One year ago. “What’s a woman’s greatest weapon?” The Viper asked me, hovering over me with his intimidating frame. It wasn’t how tall or bulky he was that terrified me, but the thought of what he would do if I got his question wrong. I had to think about it for a while. If he had asked that question a year ago, the answer would have been different. But after spending two and a half years getting me ready for an inevitable battle, he soent the last six months teaching me how to learn a man and get under his skin. He certainly wasn’t looking for answers like “her skill” or “her wits”. “Her beauty?” I tried, trying not to cower away when he inched closer. “Her tears, silly.” He brushed past me and sat down in the seat exclusively reserved for him, which looked more like a burgundy throne and was also the only chair in the room. “It’s time for you to master the art of crying. I want you to be so good at it that you can cry on command and stop on command.” That was the most ridiculou
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