Aira’s POV

“Which pack are you from, little girl? You look lost,” the bald, bloated owner of the brothel sneered, clicking his tongue. “Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Do you even know where you are, baby girl?” His voice dripped with amusement.

Baby girl?

Huh?!

He could be my grandpa for all I cared.

Ugh. I wanted to puke.

The man reeked of rotten eggs mixed with the sickly smell of rubber—but beneath that, there was a faint trace of something sweet, like ...