It was the first time they had spent a night together. Apparently, no feelings from neither side. Monet was fine with it. It didn't interfere with her obligations and it meant nothing. At least that's what she said to herself.
She slept peacefully, not caring about the man by her side. The "Surgeon of Death", they called him. An epithet meant to scare people away. She didn't believe he would hurt her in her sleep. Until something woke her up. Small caresses on her exposed skin, made by cold fingers.
"Law?"
"It's soft. Just like silk."