"I want_" he stopped. "Never mind what I want...." His voice was quieter now.
"What do you want?"
"You. Always you!"
📍MATURE CONTENT📍
Part one: She's no angel, he's no saint.
Part two: Half my soul.
Part three: Dark paradise.
Part four: Tattere...
I'm not a stranger No, I am yours With crippled anger And tears that still drip sore A fragile flame aged With misery And when our eyes meet I know you'll see I do not want to be afraid I do not want to die inside just to breathe in I'm tired of feeling so numb Relief exists I find it when I am cut I may seem crazy Or painfully shy And these scars wouldn't be so hidden If you would just look me in the eye I feel alone here and cold here Though I don't want to die But the only anesthetic that makes me feel anything kills inside I do not want to be afraid I do not want to die inside just to breathe in I'm tired of feeling so numb Relief exists I find it when I am cut Pain I am not alone I am not alone I'm not a stranger No, I am yours With crippled anger And tears that still drip sore But I do not want to be afraid I do not want to die inside just to breathe in I'm tired of feeling so numb Relief exists I found it when I was cut
🎵🎵🎵
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Kaz sat in that chair answering their questions. Aeolian was silent sipping her drink as she sat weightlessly besides him on the armrest. He was scared for her, more than he'd ever been. She was the most dangerous person he knew, but her life was constantly in danger time and again. He wanted to protect her, but their lives were complicated—they were thieves, thugs and spies and there was no safe for people like them.
Johannus Rietveld. Kaz had used Jordie's middle name and their shared family name to create the farmer's identity years ago. He wasn't certain why he'd purchased the farm where he'd grown up or why he'd continued to make trades and acquire property under the Rietveld name.
Was Johannus Rietveld meant to be his Jakob Hertzoon? A respectable identity like the one Pekka Rollins had crafted to better dupe gullible pigeons? Or had it been some way of resurrecting the family he'd lost? Did it even matter?
When the meeting finally broke apart, they all dispersed to rest for a few hours. He could not. Kaz's whole body ached with exhaustion. His leg had ceased throbbing and now it just radiated pain.
He knew how stupid he was being, how unlikely it was that he'd return from the Slat. That he'd never see her again. He went searching for her. She was in the suite's lavish bathroom, seated at a vanity table, cutting fresh bandages from the white towels.
Kaz removed his coat, her scent still lingered even though she'd cleaned it. He tossed it onto the sink, beside the basin. "I need your help plotting a route to the Slat."
