, enduring her passive aggression, all for Brighton. I had mistaken his obsessive pro

saw the truth. My love had been a currency he used to buy

en glass. I bit back a cry, feeling the warm, sticky blood oo

at a time, heading for the col

eard Brighton' s breath ca

f concern? A ghost o

gh the air, sharp and panicked. "My arm, Brighton! Look, she

concern for me vanishing like smoke. "

hton, I' m scared. What if she has powerful friends? What if Lil

lit match dropped into

a venomous whisper in his ear. "Who does that? A normal

mes hotter than before. He was a puppet,

his voice guttural. "She's

ds me, his footsteps

e shouted, his voice cracki

et the tear gas. The strong

s friends, the clank of a metal canister. They were going to do i

thick with

d, blinded, and utterly alone, facing a man who

r. The horror story wa