Arabella Malik, the lethal American mob boss's daughter.
The beauty of the nineteen-year-old was well-known. Her hourglass figure and glowing grey eyes-which mirrored her father's, had practically everyone praising the ground she walked on.
Arabella...
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✰ ＴｈｉｒｄＰｅｒｓｏｎＰＯＶ ✰
"𝐖𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐨 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧"
It was a tragedy.
Two people in love, their love so bound to a point where death has occurred at the very tips of their feet.
Love is strong, powerful. Possibly one of the strongest emotions in this lifetime. Humans in love would do anything for their significant other.
Things some shall never name.
In this story, it was a villain save the villain. Both had done bad deeds, both were in love, both had fallen so deep into it—their nature wasn't the same because two cold hearts seemed to make one whole warm heart.
He came to rescue her from death. Although, they both had ended up at the mere edge of it.
The boy sat at the edge of her hospital bed, staring lifelessly at the heart monitor. Her inhales were heavy and deep, unreal.
Her breathing was practically being held by the life support machine, the lungs were bruised from the lack of oxygen lately.
A coma, she was in. No time could tell when she would waken—it had already been a week.
Roman wished it was him there in her position. His girl shouldn't be lying in a dirty bed, her limp body supplying with sounds of her insides that seemed to revolve around the machines around her.
It had only been a week he and she had gotten shot. His wound was not as serious as hers. Clearly.
Pain and agony were what everyone felt. The drugs the captors had injected her with had surely done the job for her lack of breathing.
It was unclear what her bruised features expressed—since the clear oxygen mask over the half part of her face—covered that.
Roman was far near the edge. If she didn't survive this, if she didn't wake—he was sure to blow. He was being patient for her, every night he stayed here with her—never talking, only being in the presence of her body and soul.
She had a wheelchair next to her bed, waiting for her to wake and to put it to use.
His eyes looked past her, towards the chair. The fact that she had to use one made him scoff. The shit she'd gone through because of them was why.
It was around midnight, the windows inside the room only revealing darkness behind them. The whole 'situation' was dealt with. In other words, the enemies died a slow, painful death.
Haley was the one to shoot the bullet through the current girl in a coma. She pierced it straight through her back, hitting something vital—obviously.
