ASARAIAH KAINE The night was too quiet for a house that had tasted this much blood. I stepped onto the balcony outside our bedroom, the city breathing in the distance — sirens humming, engines purring, neon lights pulsing against the fog. The wind bit cold against my skin, but compared to the storm inside my chest, the cold felt merciful. Behind me, the glass door slid open. His presence hit first — warm, static, dangerous. “Couldn’t sleep?” Malrik asked, voice low enough that it wrapped around my spine. “I don’t really sleep anymore,” I murmured. “I just… power down.” He huffed a dry laugh, stepping beside me. “At least you’re self-aware.” I glanced up at him — black shirt, sleeves rolled, hair messy like he’d been dragging his hands through it out of frustration or fear or both. His gold eyes reflected the city lights, softening for once. “You scared me today,” he said quietly. “You scare me every day,” I shot back. “That’s not the same.” His gaze traced my face, search
آخر تحديث : 2025-11-26 اقرأ المزيد