Sophia's POVAsh and smoke hung around.Old home, where I had lived those years ago, when I lived at, oh so long, long, long, long, long ago, was burned: ash was all that was left: charred timber, snapped-up furniture, and shattered glass all over where I ever rested remained, desolation spilling upon me.Chilled to the bone, my hands were shaking, because I couldn't catch my breath, couldn't cling to it.The old fires now were nothing but ash and dust.And my mother.I gritted, the throat shutting over a thudding mass.Where was she?The thought crept through me, twisting in me like some monster and booming insistently at the center of my chest above the curve of my ribs.And then, suddenly—Footsteps.I spun on one heel, braced stance ready to bludgeon, fist slapped around the knife-hand on thigh like on buckler.The screen: vapory wound, face unmistakably familiar.Xavier.Peace storm black.Wound in his strange-to-me plain black, slouching, head thrown back, sneering, fit-on-the-v
Last Updated : 2025-05-23 Read more