rt

cent is the first to speak up, taking a step

with bated breath as it takes the most minute tilt of his head to h

the knots in my belly. It feels like forever, the both of us, holding each other's gazes, neither wanting to look a

voice is deep — almost like a rough growl but a low one. I start wondering how a growl can sound so quiet. It's without

ri

that so f

ncing off the solid walls. I wonder how vast the darkness in our little cell is. In the dis

t edge to his voice. The soldier ignores his words and bend

till

ier. His hair is a little wet. I'm sure he took his precious time

ts his gaze to me once more,

t this ov

e reaches behind him to where he

violence. I live and breathe it ever since I was born. It's my name. My inheritance. My legacy. My life. I'm the Esmeralda princess at the heart of it. Or I

tand. To stand tall too. My feet is bare, I realize.

uses, their

ne person. H

ward me, and I scramble backward in fright, my hand falling on the rusting metal frame of a

ing dress. It's Amma's blood, no doubt. The memory of how his men killed her would be forever ingrained

make it out of h

he shows

hoes gave to me. I have to crane my neck to look up at him and my gaze alternates between his deep blue, soullesss eyes to the scar running

s been thr

e is

ng to be

ders from behind him. “Do you know who the fu

scar on the boss's neck back up to his eyes. Someone chu

ow it, see how the blood has splattered over the ripped bod

ver it and cover myself,

ame quiet, yet chilling tone he used in t

n't know him at all. I study him critically, shift my gaze to the other suited one, his right-hand man or brothe

h fan the tip of my left ea

p, st

the Scarfoni name was ages ago. They're all dea

t of my face because I know what we d

or revenge.

's reading my thoughts.

e we? Say my na

been alive, that name was associated with terror.

y i

w, lick

vived the war and is this calm, then he's had a lot of

. I glance to the other one, noting their resemblance for the first time. T

, the name stinging my to

is barely a whisper, but he gives me the faintest s

y breasts above the ruined gown. I see the lust flash in his eyes for jus

his hand gently over my shoulder, his grip slightly less

brushes his lip

by the tickle of th

. Look,” he warns, and I know wha

sobey him. I k

her. I sink to the ground again, feeling numb. He positions himself before my br

nt of Vincent, a dark patch blooms on the insides of Vincent's trousers. My brot

ally roll myself on the floor, cackle t

about

spot. If he's enjoying this, he doesn't s

inning to stir awake. Will they kill h

ernando?” C

iot is the reason why we're all here. He

ils. Where is he? Do you k

am I? His bodyg

whistles. Just a whistle. Heathcliff points the gun in between Vincent's eyes and pulls the trigger. It's so fast, no

y palms to my ears, groaning. Why don't they use a silencer for crying out lou

atch instead. Watch as Vincent's body twitches, still kneeling as if he's