Those blue eyes hadn't changed a bit. Still carrying that breathtaking innocence, untouched by the cruelty of the world. And he hated it. He hated the quiet naivety that still lived in those eyes. He hated how they still held the power to derail his every guarded thought with just one glance. Damn those eyes and damn their owner who betrayed him when he was hopelessly attached to her.He loomed over her, pleased by their height difference. So fucking small and fragile, it baffled him as to how she even managed to go so long on her own. She wasn't a warrior, she wasn't meant to fight. Her power was in her softness. She was meant to sit beside her man, be his inspiration, be his ride or die, while he claimed both earth and sky for her. A mix of longing and ache gripped his heart at the thought. She literally had everything in her palm, but she threw it all away without a second thought.He staggered inside, fighting the pull of liquor in his veins. The room allotted to her was next to h
"God will never forgive you," she cursed through her clenched teeth, eyes burning with resentment. He was purposely humiliating her, and the despicable words he used for her had wounded her pride. How dare he use such words for her? Disgust churned in her stomach. He watched her, calm and indifferent, utterly dismissive of her opinion. He had no fear of God either. "Don't do this," she said, voice firm with indignation, brittle with bruised self-respect. "It's either you or your people," Nate gave her the choice, knowing very well what she would pick. Sera clenched her fists in frustration. After a heated stare down, she finally looked away in surrender. "Now hold out your hand," he instructed. Without glancing up, she reluctantly extended her arm. A chill touched her wrist, prompting her to look. He was slipping a bracelet over her hand. Even though made of white platinum, it looked more like a mini version of a dog collar with something written over it. Nathaniel Serrano's Mi
He roughly seized her upper arm and pulled her off him.Sera raised her eyes only to find him gazing down at her, his mouth pressed in a thin line. Disappointment and fear filled her instantly. He caught her again. She searched his eyes for intent, but they were shut to her now. inaccessible. Impenetrable. Gulping back the ball of dread, she demanded, "Leave me." A muscle in his jaw ticked. His grip turned brutal, squeezing like a vice as he dragged her back the way she had tried to escape. His robust strength mocked her weak struggle, thwarting her resistance with no effort. He made her follow him despite her aversion. "Let me go," she spat, a mix of desperation and frustration laced her voice. She knew it was useless. Still, she fought him because doing nothing would mean accepting his oppression. He forced her into a room and shoved her to the floor without a second thought. The woman whimpered as she hit the floor. But recovering quickly, she jerked her head up and found him
The world came to a standstill as she locked eyes with him—the same eyes that had stalked her through every nightmare. She froze, her heart slowed down, gradually collapsing under the devastating realisation, and her face lost its color. He was here. He found her. He caught her. And as if fate directed, her gaze flickered to the prominent scar marring his cheek, causing a shadow of recognition to enter her eyes. She had struck him at the same spot nine years ago. Haunting memories hit her hard and fast. A thin layer of tears claimed her eyes as panic settled in. Her slow heart suddenly jolted into a frenzied rhythm, pounding so hard it made her head reel. Her instinct to escape surged forward. Despite her vision blurring, she made a weak attempt to push him off, but his ironclad hold around her refused to give way. He was standing too close, stealing her sky, blocking the rain from reaching her. She wanted to fight his grip, but then her body sank, eyes falling close as she fain
She packed all the essentials in her bag and headed out. They were going to perform at a charity event for blind institutions. The rumbling of the clouds caught her attention as she stepped out of her building. The woman glanced up to see large chunks of clouds drifting and merging in the sky. It probably was going to rain. But she couldn't say it with certainty. The weather here was unpredictable. She visited her nearby church like always before setting out for work. Her relationship with God had strengthened all these years—her only constant. Today felt different, and she wasn't sure why. Something strange stirred the air of London. She couldn't name what it was, but it felt eerily familiar. After offering her prayer, she took the bus to her academy, and from there she left for the venue with her group. The event was happening in an open area. The event was about to start soon. She changed into her outfit, a strange feeling lingering with her the entire time. Their performance
"Dyson Diaz," Sera asked hopefully. The man's eyes moved slowly over the list. "We do have one Dyson, but he is not Diaz," the man replied, looking up. A familiar weight of disappointment burdened her heart. "Can I see him?" Sera questioned, pushing aside her disappointment. The man gave a brief nod and called out a name. Moments later, a boy, probably in his early twenties, entered through the door. The man instructed him to bring Dyson over. The boy gave a quick nod and left without a word. The man brought his attention back to Sera, his eyes slightly narrowing. "Why are you wearing a mask, Miss Sophia?" he questioned. On instinct, Sera adjusted her already well-placed mask, feeling caught. "I am allergic to dust," she lied. Nine years and, her heart still stuttered every time she lied. She was in hiding, and each day was a reminder of that. From her name to her identity, everything was a carefully constructed lie. The man nodded, having bought the lie. Just then, a lanky man