iya

om the indignant terrier's jaws. "That's not a toy. That's Sheriff C

t out a frustrated yip and then tried t

ed, a genuine, unburdened smile that reached my eyes. It had been five years. Five years since I died on that bus, f

gruesome, necessary, and perfectly executed. He' d even slipped me a small, intricately carved wooden amulet, a protective charm, he'd called it, "for

badge of my survival. The emotional scars ran deeper, a tangled knot of grief, anger, and a profound, aching emptiness where my love for Hudson used to be. But the hate remained, a cold, steady

r socialite perfectly manicured nails were now rough and often chipped from caring for the animal

was just Jamiya, the kind woman who rescued strays, who knew every dog's whim and every cat's purr. My days were predictable, filled with the

eph Cooper's voice, warm and d

teaming mug of coffee in his hand. His kind eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, and his pres

f," I chuckled, finally managing to secure th

lame her. It's a fine boot." He ruffled Pumpkin's head, and the terrier, instantly mollifie

ng a grateful sip of the coffee. It was jus

ns for the haunted look that sometimes crossed my face. He simply existed, a quiet anchor in my newly built world. He repre

n the smooth wooden amulet tucked away. The scar was a reminder o

ad once loved him so fiercely. It was the bedrock of my new life, the constant reminder of what I would never allow again. Thi

een here for days. Just... watching. And today, he's actually trying to fix the broken

od ran