Tara's gaze sharpened, sensing the underlying meaning.
"What are you getting at?" she demanded, her voice filled with suspicion.
His fingers tapped lightly on the armrest, and Tara noticed a smile beginning to form on his lips.
The sight made her more irritated, her frustration building. She hated the game he was playing, always being so mysterious, always pushing her buttons.
The worst part was that Draven only showed this side to those he was close to.
To others, he acted dignified and smart, but she knew the truth—he loved making people play right into his hands. A cunning old man.
"Don't tell me you're actually willing to hand over your position to that arrogant demon. He's not even a Demon God yet," Tara's voice dropped.
"You're right. He's not a Demon God. But his talent is remarkable."
"That's not a good enough reason. The alliance has no shortage of talented demons," she retorted.
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