A Crown Made of Scars
It was an old wound, shaped like a scorched butterfly.
Wade's eyes were glued to that scar.
The fury in his eyes suddenly swirled into confusion, shock, and a tremor so faint it might be missed.
"Where'd you get this?" he rasped, his breath heavy.
I tried to wrench my hand free, but his grip was punishing.
"Ten years back, in the old Milanex City, during a nasty clash." I recounted with a detached air, as if it were someone else's story.
"I was just passing by when I heard some noises under the debris. I was young and reckless, and thought I could play the hero. Got a nasty burn from a beam that came down."
Bab Populer