Case of the Mondays
Elle's father would have had a heart attack if he could have seen her. Lord knew his business partners weren't pleased with her; she'd already curtailed two fights to the death in the Pit. The third, though, she wasn't having much luck. A Halloween theme, for God's sake, she thought ruefully. It was something she would have thought up. Or Martha Stewart.
Feeling restless, she headed downstairs to where the angels were kept, absently checking to see if they'd been fed enough and to see how the wounded were doing. Except for a few hellos, she was quiet, distracted by how she could possibly stop men twice her age with significantly more power and experience than she had. Sure, she had money and too much of a share for her vote not to count, but she'd seen their faces, and she'd heard about the games they'd played for decades; she knew better than to think she could hide behind her money.
She moved to a standing desk in one of the cage rooms and opened a log book, running her eyes over the entries and frowning to herself.
Feeling restless, she headed downstairs to where the angels were kept, absently checking to see if they'd been fed enough and to see how the wounded were doing. Except for a few hellos, she was quiet, distracted by how she could possibly stop men twice her age with significantly more power and experience than she had. Sure, she had money and too much of a share for her vote not to count, but she'd seen their faces, and she'd heard about the games they'd played for decades; she knew better than to think she could hide behind her money.
She moved to a standing desk in one of the cage rooms and opened a log book, running her eyes over the entries and frowning to herself.