Sold

Chapter 21

*Edited*

(Brandon's POV)

I paced around the lounge room of my pent house waiting patiently for Rosalyn to be done packing her bags. As I waited I watched as the glass men fixed the broken windows, making sure to get them bullet proof this time. She stepped out of the shadows of the hallway looking just as gorgeous as always. Her long brown hair was tied up into a high pony tail, she wore a maroon shirt that ended just above her hip bones and tight grey jeans and black flats. She looked beautiful.

I smiled at her causing a light flush to spread across her cheeks, my heart pounding with hope as I took note of her reaction.

I'm so sorry Rosé.

The words were stuck in my throat as I watched her heave her bags up and head towards the elevator. Following behind her I reached for her bags and took hold of the black strap to get a pointed look from Rosalyn.

"I don't need your help, Brandon" the way my name sounded her lips felt wrong. She was sour and mad at me. I couldn't blame her, I had lashed out and projected all my anger and frustration out on her.

But let's face it, she's not stupid and she won't forgive me anytime soon.

Not this time.

I breathed a heavy sigh and watched her from the corner of my eye as we descended to the car park.

(Rosalyn's POV)

He was shipping me off to some 'safe house' while he sorted all this fuckery out. I leaned my head against the elevator wall and looked at him to catch him quickly look away. You'd have to be stupid to not see the apology written all over his face.

I shifted my feet awkwardly trying to relieve the searing pain in the palms of my hands. Brandon caught sight of my pain and instantly reached for the bags again and snatched them from me.

I made a heated look towards him imagining his head combusting.

I sighed again and leaned myself against the silver wall and looked at my appearance. So much of me had changed since living with him. I looked down at my hands fighting tears as I imagined scars being their forever reminding me of just how much of a failed mess I was.

The elevator doors dinged open after an incredibly long ride down and came face to face with a tired and puffed looking Dylan. His eyes a bloodshot red.

"Dylan?" He slumped forward falling on the floor of the elevator grasping into my hands causing blood to well up from the wound.

"Run..." He whispered out before passing out on the cold elevator floors. I looked at Brandon who's eyes were trained on a figure off in the distance.

I stood up shakily torn between running or looking after Dylan who was clearly hurt. Brandon's hand clasped my forearm as I made eye contact with him.

"Run!"