Novelas y relatos de Lian Harper Dc Comics

Dexter I watched her from the bronze shadow of the founder’s statue, the morning sun warm on my back and the fountain’s spray misting the air like innocent tears. Lily Harper. Nineteen years old, freckles scattered across her nose like stars someone had carelessly tossed onto porcelain, auburn braid swinging every time she laughed at something her loud roommate said. She sat on the fountain’s edge with her knees drawn up, hugging a journalism notebook to her chest as though it were a shield against the world. Pure. So fucking pure it almost hurt to look at her she was the perfect prey.