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Summary
Sloane surveys her reflection in the mirror. She smiles at her handiwork. The femme fatale who stares back at her is nearly unrecognisable.
It’s never been just about sneaking out to Chantara to perform exotic dance for a bit of thrill and extra coin. Gods, no. She’s too sophisticated for that. But co-ordinating supply chain to smuggle churam and other illicit substances back into Basgiath? Now that’s the kind of intellectual chess she relishes.
But leadership is on her tail now, and they’ve tasked the wingleaders with bringing the perpetrators in. Abandoning her scheme and deserting would be the smart thing to do, but Sloane knows which wingleader will be undercover tonight and there's something she wants from him.
It’s risky, but she’s willing to roll the dice and tempt fate. And perhaps, if she's lucky, the Gods might allow her a proper hit of the drug she desires most.