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Chapter 19

  • Thud! The impact of his knee smacking against the tiles resonated deep within my razor-thin heartbeats. I felt no remorse, he'd been pissing me off since the very start. He deserved this, and more. My hands refused to lower the gun, the demons inside me wanted me to make him bleed. I wanted to put a bullet in his head, watch it splash and stain the walls of my office, a souvenir to serve as a reminder of the time he existed, but my fingers refused to squeeze the trigger. I can't. His sharp gasp shot through my skin like dagger slashes, nicking away my skin until I felt raw, edgy, on the verge of collapse. He can never leave me. Not now, not ever. He was mine damn it. I haven't even played with him yet, but he'd managed to toy with me, messed up my head, my business, he ruined everything.
  • He twisted to look at me, his face contorted in pain, shock making his blue eyes glassy. I'm tempted to hurt him just to keep that mist of cloud marring those blue eyes. He'd be fine, once he got treated. It was just a flesh wound. I was a very good shot, I didn't hit his vital organs on purpose. The main reason was that I didn't want to kill him. Yet. His blood dripped onto the floor, drawing my attention. It pooled around his knee, a rich red crimson, beckoning for me to have a taste. I was twisted, but everything I thought I was obsessed with paled in comparison with what I felt for Blake Moreno. I wanted to crawl into his skin, make him a part of me forever. He started to struggle to his feet once the shock of the shot wore off, his hands stained the glass door as he leaned onto it for support. I craved the look of pain on his face. He was strong. He'd be able to take everything I dished out.
  • I closed the distance between us once he succeeded in getting up. His gaze crawled over my skin, his hate rolling off him in waves. He was attracted to me, but his sense of duty would never let him examine those deep feelings. I could picture it already, he would rather die than submit to me. He would take my life if he had the chance, and I would have to kill him if it came to that. What was this messed-up triangle? Do I say we are star-crossed lovers? Are we destined to murder each other? If so, then it's a befitting, amusing end. I'll always be one step ahead. I know I hesitated this time, but when I get tired of him, I'll aim for his head. A gaping hole made by my hand is something that won't make my guts twist in disgust, or was this just wishful thinking.
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