𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐠, 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟?
When a runaway finds herself in a reclusive town headed by a man with a morbid fixation on her, she must find a way to stop her past from exposing everything-- especially when her past...
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07 b i r d s o n g
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THE FIRST THING I noticed about him were his eyes. Subtlety slanted, dark now in contrast to the blazing amber I'd seen before, and intimidating in a way that he had to be aware of by the way he was staring at me.
Inky-black hair skimmed his eyebrows, thick eyebrows that were set low on the browbone. The only word I could think of to accurately describe him was a predator. Prominent wickedness lined his demeanor; mischief swirled in his eyes.
His brown skin stood out against the dreary backdrop of Amrock, and if I hadn't been so disconcerted by the man, I might've admired his unique allure.
Not right now, though. The taunting smile on his lips grated on me.
Disinterested, I crossed my arms, "Do I know you?"
Only adding to my irritation, he had the nerve to look entertained by my snarky reply.
"Not yet."
"Not ever," I muttered under my breath.
As the current situation found itself, it left me and Sophie in a particularly tight spot. I felt a bout of pity for Oliver, he seemed to be a proud man and still stood no chance against these men. They easily towered over him, in both height and stature.
Considering each man had the brawn of at least three, the odds were not in our favor. Oliver was old and I'd never been able to fight because I hated the sight of blood, so that was out of the question. Then, after sneaking a glance at the girl next to me, I swiftly deduced that all hope was lost.
"What brings you here, new girl?" Creed grinned, "Car troubles?"
All my fears of blood left my body in that instant. If it was his blood, I would be glad to see his face get shoved into a brick wall until it was a bleeding mess. I could see it all play out now, him getting blinded by his massive ego and falling head-first into concrete. A girl could dream.
The guy I hadn't seen before was holding back a laugh at his friend's ridicule, but the scarred man was straight-faced, deep in concentration. His disfigurement was more prominent now, far more than it had been in the motel, and they looked painful. It made his mouth and nose noticeably uneven, extending down to his neck. He would have been handsome, probably, but all I could see were the gnarly blemishes.
