Avery Blake의 작품

Emmanuella didn’t sleep. Every time she drifted off, she saw Matthew’s face, not the version she had loved but the stranger from the dining room. She kept replaying the moment she slapped him. She didn't regret the sting of her palm against his skin; she regretted that she hadn't seen through him sooner.The next morning, the uniformed woman brought tea and toast, but the food felt like ash in Emmanuella’s mouth. Her stomach was a mess of nerves and adrenaline."Mr. Romeo is waiting in the study," the woman said. "He says it’s time to begin."Emmanuella stood up and smoothed her black dress. She caught her reflection in the mirror. The girl looking back didn't look like a victim anymore. Her eyes were hard, her posture straight. She followed the woman through the labyrinth of the house until they reached a room lined with thousands of leather-bound books. Romeo sat behind a massive oak desk, lit by the morning sun."Sit, Emmanuella," he said, not looking up from a folder.She sat, her

Emmanuella stayed on the floor for a long time, staring at the spot where the window met the wall. The image of Matthew laughing with those guards was burnt into her mind like a scar. It wasn’t just a bad dream. It was the absolute, crushing end of the life she thought she knew.She had spent a year loving a man who didn’t exist. Her Matthew was the guy who forgot his keys and liked his toast burnt. The man outside was a stranger who traded secrets in the dark and moved through a world of violence as if he belonged there."He sold me," she whispered, the words tasting like copper in her mouth. "He actually sold me."The fear she felt for Romeo was nothing compared to the white-hot rage building in her chest for Matthew. He had sat across from her this morning. He had watched her get excited about their anniversary. He had probably been counting down the minutes until he could hand her over and save his own skin.She stood up, wiping the dry salt of tears from her face. She was done cr

The world came back to Emmanuella in painful, jagged pieces. First, there was the pounding in her head, a rhythmic throb that felt like a drum beating against her skull. Then came the smell. It wasn’t the comforting scent of home or the lingering aroma of the lasagna she’d spent all day making. This place smelled of expensive floor wax, fresh-cut lilies, and something cold, like old stone.She bolted upright, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Her vision blurred for a second before the room came into focus.She wasn't in her cramped, cozy apartment. She was in a room so massive it felt like a museum wing. High ceilings vanished into the shadows, a crystal chandelier hung like a frozen waterfall from above, and thick velvet curtains blocked out the world. She was lying on a bed with silk sheets that felt slick and unnervingly cold against her skin."Matthew?" she whispered. Her voice was a thin, dry crack.For a heartbeat, she let herself hope. She hoped she’d ju

The dust from the shattered door hung in the air like a thick, gray fog. Emmanuella’s ears were ringing with a high-pitched whistle that drowned out the sound of her own frantic breathing. She scrambled backwards, her sneakers sliding on the slick kitchen tiles.Her mind was a chaotic mess. Ten minutes ago, she was worrying about lasagna and a cheating boyfriend. Now, her front door was splinters and a stranger was standing in her living room."Stay back!" she screamed, though her voice sounded small and hollow in the ruined space.She reached behind her, her fingers fumbling across the counter until they closed around the handle of a steak knife. It felt pathetic. It was a dull blade meant for medium-rare beef, not for defending her life against the man stepping through the wreckage.He didn't look like a burglar. He didn't have a mask or a weapon drawn. He wore a charcoal suit that probably cost more than her entire college fund, and he moved with a terrifying, predator-like grace.

The sun was sinking behind the jagged skyline, bleeding orange streaks across the kitchen floor. Emmanuella wiped a smudge of white flour off her cheek, leaving a dusty trail behind. She didn't care about the mess. Today was supposed to be the best day of the year.Exactly one year. 365 days since she and Matthew had officially started dating.The flat smelled incredible, the kind of cosy, rich scent that makes you feel like everything is right with the world. She’d spent all afternoon layering the lasagne with extra cheese and simmering a tomato sauce that tasted like a hug. On the table sat a bottle of wine with a shiny gold foil neck. It had cost her way too much, and it looked ridiculous next to their chipped, everyday glasses, but she wanted tonight to feel special. She wanted it to feel like them.She glanced at the wall clock. 7:00 PM.Matthew is usually walking through the door right now. He was a city guy, structured, serious, and always on time. She loved that about him; he