Hunter. I cut the call with Rio tersely, not caring about whatever shit he's saying.Lowering the phone in my hand, I walk toward the chest in my second parlor, picking up one of the portraits on it. His portrait. Chase. He was only ten in the picture with the brightest smile you could ever see on a boy his age.His innocent appearance never ceases to thaw my heart. Chase has always been innocent, untouched, until darkness came upon us. A life we never prepared for. He's on his bicycle in the portrait, and that was his first time riding a bicycle. I remember how scared he was doing it for the first time. He fell countless times, and I remember laughing and mocking him. My mockery made him more determined to learn how to ride that, even at night when everyone was asleep in “Shelter,” the place we grew up together, he'd sneak out just to learn how to ride his bicycle. During those nights, I'd watch him through the window, like his protector, while our mothers were out, doing th
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