When He Begs Me To Stay
“You’ve lasted this long because no one knew where you were.”
“I’m not living if I’m still hiding,” I snapped.
“That’s not surviving — that’s waiting to die slower.”
He stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the tension radiating from him. “You think stepping into open fire is the smarter option?”
“Maybe not smarter,” I said. “But it’s mine.”
Grayson appeared from the back of the half-collapsed hallway, his expression unreadable. His clothes were dark, his face drawn — too many sleepless nights, too many losses but his eyes, those sharp grey ones that always looked like they were analyzing ten moves ahead, were softer now.
Bab Populer