HE BROKE ME; THEN HE OWNED ME
What kind of monster earns that kind of loyalty?
The fire roared behind us like it wanted more, but the sound of sirens cut through. The fire trucks arrived, lights slicing through the smoke. It was chaos. Shouts, hoses, panic.
And then, minutes later, somehow, they dragged Thorne out.
One of the firefighters screamed for help as two men hauled his limp, burned frame through the wreckage.
He was barely recognizable, ash covering half his face, blood soaking through his shirt, one arm twisted unnaturally. His body hit the pavement hard, and he didn’t move.
Bab Populer