╰┈➤ 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬! ๋࣭ ⭑⚝
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
⭑.ᐟ ˊˎ- In the aftermath of her mother's death, Tory Nichols finds herself at rock bottom, struggling to care for her younger brother and keep her life together...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
꩜ .ᐟ
𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘'𝐒 footsteps echoed sharply against the cracked pavement, her brother Brandon clinging tightly to her arm. The cool night air stung her cheeks, but the hollow ache in her chest burned hotter than anything the November chill could muster. She didn't know where she was going—just that she had to get away. Away from the tiny, suffocating apartment that still smelled like her mother's perfume. Away from the endless, empty promises of hope that people kept spewing.
"Where are we going?" Brandon whispered, his voice trembling.
"I don't know," she admitted, her voice harsher than she intended. She softened slightly. "We'll figure it out, okay? Just stick close."
Across the street, a sleek black car purred to a stop. Tory barely noticed it until the back door opened, and a girl, maybe her age, stepped out. She was wrapped in an oversized cream coat that looked expensive, her orange-tinted sunglasses perched low on her nose despite the dark. Her straight, glossy black hair fell perfectly to her waist, and her expression was unreadable as she walked toward them, flanked by two men in plain suits.
Tory tensed. People like that didn't come around here.
"You need help?" the girl called, her voice soft but carrying a strange authority.
Tory's first instinct was to ignore her, but Brandon tugged at her sleeve. "Tory," he murmured, "maybe—"
"We're fine," Tory snapped, cutting him off. Her gaze turned to the girl, hardening like steel. "Keep walking."
The girl paused, tilting her head slightly, her curiosity evident. "You don't look fine," she said simply. Her accent was faint but unusual, her tone calm in a way that unsettled Tory. "Where are you going this late?"
"None of your business," Tory shot back. She pulled Brandon closer, glaring at the girl. "Don't you have a mansion or something to go back to? You shouldn't be wandering around here."
The girl didn't flinch at the venom in Tory's words. Instead, she smiled—a genuine, almost disarming smile that only irritated Tory more. "I do have a mansion. It's not far from here." She paused, eyeing Brandon briefly before meeting Tory's gaze again. "If you need somewhere to stay..."
"Really?" The girl raised an eyebrow, a challenge in her tone. "Because it doesn't seem like you're good."
"Look," Tory snapped, stepping forward, "I don't know who you think you are, but we don't need your pity, okay? Just leave us alone."
The girl didn't back down, her gaze steady. "It's not pity. It's an offer. You can take it or leave it. But if you're worried about your brother freezing out here, you might want to reconsider."
