"You have no idea what you do to me." He snarls as his skilled hands keep her arms pinned over her head
"Really? Because I'm pretty sure all I do is piss you off!" She snaps, desperately trying to get out of his firm hold on her.
As a response he gr...
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𝗍𝗐: 𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐲 𖤓𖤓𖤓
With glistening eyes I march out of the bathroom and make my way back to our table, each step feeling heavier than the last. I try to tell myself that I don't care, repeating the words like a shield. But deep down I know I do care, and the realization makes my heart ache even more.
It's been a week, one fucking week and he's engaged?
I look around confused when I reach our table, Carter isn't there. My eyes snap to the table in front of ours. Enzo isn't here either.
That can't be good.
I practically bolt out of the restaurant, ignoring the weird stares I get sent from people. I don't even care to pick up my jacket on the way. When I finally reach the exit, I look both ways to try and figure out where they possibly could have went, my gaze drifts to right where I spot the entrance of a dark alleyway.
Not many minutes have to go by until a wave of regret fills me at the fact that I didn't bring my jacket. It's fucking freezing outside.
My heart jumps when the sound of grunting meets my ears, and it doesn't take a genius to recognize whose voice it belongs to. I run as fast as my 5 inch heels can take me until I finally start closing in on the scene.
Enzo has his back against me but I can see the silhouette of a man laying infront of him on the floor.
And there's blood. A lot of blood.
I slap a hand over my mouth to not make any noise, feeling my heart speed up in fear.
"Lily." He doesn't have to turn around to know who's behind him.
My voice trembles, "What did you do to him."
"He's not dead. Yet" He only partly answers my question.
"No. You can't kill him! He's hasn't done anything wrong." I walk up to him, my fear turning into anger instead.
He turns around to face me, his dark waves a mess scattered across his face, his lip busted and knuckles bruised badly.
"Has he touched you." He demands.
The question makes me sick, sick that he thinks that it's any of his business, that he thinks he's got some kind of claim on me.
I slap him, hard. His head only slightly turns to the side, but he doesn't do anything expect stand there. I slap him again. Nothing.
I raise my hand for the third time, but just as I'm about to make contact with his face, he grips my arms harshly and pulls me towards him.
