What Was Once Mine
He'd gotten down on one knee beside me and clasped my hands, saying tenderly, "I love seeing you like this, Maeve."
I'd saved him and trapped myself in a horrible nightmare ten years ago. Ten years later, he personally broke my finger, and with it, the last thing that tied us together.
…
As I lay in the abandoned warehouse at three in the morning with my fingers splayed in awkward, broken angles, my men hurried in with medical equipment.
The warehouse behind me was set ablaze. As the fire burned and ravaged the building, I leaned into my seat and called the person coordinating my plans.
Bab Populer