Daddies And Their Naughty Angel
“Daddy killed you. I watched you die!”
“Did you?” He cocked his head, curious. Amused. “Are you sure about that, Angel? Are you sure about anything anymore?”
He stepped forward.
Just a step.
I stumbled backwards. I needed to run.
But my feet were sinking.
The floor had turned to sand—no, quicksand—pulling me down, swallowing my ankles, my calves, my knees. I struggled, thrashed, but it only made me sink faster.
“I told you.” Daniel was walking toward me now, slow and taking his time. “There’s no world where I let you go. Not ever. Not even death. Did you think dying would stop me from loving you? Did you think a few bullets could kill what we have?”