A Crown Made of Scars
That kid probably turned to dust.
The air hung heavy.
Wade's gaze bore into mine, swirling with emotions I could not read.
Shock, wild joy, the madness of finding something once lost, and a possessiveness fierce enough to set the world on fire.
He held on for a moment before letting go, his calloused fingers brushing over the scar with the tenderness one might use for a priceless artifact.
"So… It was you."
His voice was a whisper, and then he fished out a black and gold card from his jacket, a card that held the Romano family's highest authority, and tossed it into my lap.
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