❝ In a world tainted by decadent rulers, the Princess must step back to her kingdom for a revamp of the rules, claiming her rightful place on the throne ❞
Rules are made to be broken was the only rule Lysandra ever abided by. When that very principl...
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Fear crawled within Lysandra's veins as she looked around, whipping her head in a swift pace and searching for the source of the voice that she recognized all too well. I would gladly ignore it, she thought, if not for the familiarity of the tone striking her senses awake. After minutes of sweeping her neighbourhood in vain and finding nothing except for her harsh breaths mingling with the whispers of the night, she proceeded with her walk home.
Stepping into the gate of her house, she let her feet lead her to the garage and fetched the keys from her clutch. The huge door was pulled open with a bang as she winced, turning the lights on. Pulling a duffel bag hung to the rear handle of her motorbike, she shimmied out of the tight material clinging to her skin and put on a dark vest and shorts.
Lysandra laughed bitterly to herself. She wasn't even capable of handling a dress for a good few hours. A good of nothing sort of a girl, she called herself. Scum that didn't deserve anything. Of course, Laurent's cousin would deem her as an opportunity to get laid. She fisted her hands and ran her fingers through her hair, messing it up without a care in the world.
She needed an outlet because like always, the flow of emotions was getting too much for her to handle.
Turning to the washing pipe, coiled away from the parked car, she washed her face free of the glittery substances coating her pale skin. Cold air hit her skin and her teeth chattered as she groaned and grabbed a jacket, shrugging it on top of her insubstantial top. This country was far too cold for her liking.
Feeling prepped up enough, she straddled her bike, forgetting everything that troubled her as the shiny surface reflected the light into her tired eyes. The next loud sound echoing was the roar of her bike as she fled away into the darkness.
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Lysandra's hazel eyes fixed on the bruise staining the opponent's cheek as her lips lifted up into a complacent grin, distracting him before lifting her left leg up, smacking the side of his face. Blood gushed out of his mouth as he collapsed on the floor, panting heavily.
Preparing for another blow at his stomach, Lysandra cocked her foot to on side when he shuffled backwards, lifting his head up a little, his eyes begging for mercy.
