Deception. Betrayal. Mistrust.
It seems the closer Rayne gets to the truth, the more she finds herself wanting to run away from it. It's complex and terrifying-more than she ever fathomed.
New family members, good and bad, pop out at her like a br...
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𝗜t all happened so fast.
Enzo's eyes followed the spray of stolen red slap the pavement before he noticed the body it'd belonged to hit the floor. His attention remained steeled and locked on the insides of a person he could not find himself caring for. Yet, he could not peel his face away from the scene. He could not look beyond the droplets mergining with the loud sparing emitting from the sky.
Not even when the woman at his side entered his view and darted toward the body.
Not even when her screams burned holes through his eardrums.
Enzo had seen countless people die—in many of those instances, he had been the one holding the blade. So when he stood, frozen beyond command, at the sight of a simple human boy clattered to the gravel in a motionless feat, he could not form an understanding.
He could not understand why his fingers curled at his side.
Why his eyes rounded to spheres.
Why an overwhelming wave of grief crashed his shores.
The blonde hair he'd vaguely known was now a streak of maroon fire. The tan skin he'd barely knew was fading underneath the downpour of the Earth's tears. The paleness of his skin was mimicked in Enzo's as the situation drained him of all he knew and all he thought he comprehended.
Enzo's statue remained intact as the girl collapsed at the side of the man. His head merely cocked on his shoulders as he watched the way her hands covered the length of his fatal wound. The stone-cold expression stuck to his cheeks did not twitch as she attempted to shake him awake.
All he noticed was her curtain of chocolate hair.
All he acknowledged were her sky-blue orbs.
The world was spinning underneath the soles of his rubber boots and then it was flipping on its axis and suddenly he was upside down and his eyes were wider than imaginable. He stood on a fake ceiling, admiring the perspective of his past he'd never been given until now—the emotional verbatim of the scenario slashed his heart to shreds; pierced his mind like a bullet.
He could feel the kitchen knife dive into his layers of skin, ripping his healthy body apart in an abnormal way. He could feel the warmth of her tears on his face as she huddled above him, realizing what she'd done to him. He could feel the thickness of the metal blade as she tried desperately to save him—as she tore it from his chest cavity and sealed his fate.
Romania sobbed above the body of the boy she loved, just as he'd done to her.
Romania's hands lingered in a drenching wound impossible to seal, as he'd done to her.
Romania's voice called out for help—looked for an external figure—in the same way he'd pleaded to his father.
A hot trickle joined Enzo's face amongst the freezing rain.
