Never The Same
- Reads 13
- Votes 6
- Parts 1
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𝗜 𝗛𝗔𝗧𝗘 𝗠𝗬 𝗟𝗜𝗙𝗘.
I have a great life, don't get me wrong. And I'll never do something stupid so stop worrying. I have a wonderful best friend who is my ride or die bitch and will always be there for me. I have a great confidant who will be on my side in a blink of an eye... until he betrayed us.
I work for the International Detective Agency since I was a kid and I love what I do- again- until now. Our boss -my confidant/friend- is sending me and my best friend to a hell hole for "work". I don't understand why am I getting punished. And I also wonder if we can kill him without getting in trouble.
Shitty situation or not, not gonna lie, but I am kind of excited. One thing me and Lizzie are sure of: we are going kick some serious asses and love each and every second of it.
But let's hope we will return back to our home sweet home in one piece.
Wish us luck?
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𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔. 𝙳𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚘𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙰𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚠𝚔𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 '𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸'𝚖 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚀𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝙰𝚠𝚔𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍. 𝙰𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝙸'𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚢.
𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢.
𝙷𝙰𝙿𝙿𝚈 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶♡
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loyality
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Let me tell you my story, the one about how I died. Don't worry, though. I came back. They say when someone shares their story, they're sharing their burden. Seeking someone to help carry the weight that bends their shoulders, hoping their troubles will float away like helium balloons into the endless sky. Your silence becomes their sanctuary, a vacuum they fill with dust-covered memories. If you speak, do it gently - a nod, a smile, the ghost of a touch on their shoulder. But my story? It's different. It carved its path because trust becomes a luxury I could no longer afford. How could it not, when the one person who swore to never betray me did exactly that? The one who promised never to hurt me, broke me. The one who vowed to stay, walked away. So tell me, why trust anyone else when the person I trusted the most killed me in every way but physical? Until they managed that too. They say the most dangerous predators are the ones who look like prey. I learned this truth through split knuckles and shattered promises, through blood on my tongue and threats whispered against skin. Through playing weak while gathering my strength in darkness. Now I watch him, this self-proclaimed hunter in his own game. He doesn't see he's just another piece being moved across someone else's board. The mafia's golden prince, they whisper. If only they knew what lurks beneath that polished veneer. What dances behind those eyes that mirror the shadows I know so well. But shadows? They're born from fire. And somewhere out there, someone's striking matches, leaving black roses on cooling ashes, drawing closer with every corpse that falls. They call him Pyro. And when that name drops in a room. Well, let's just say I'm not the only one with secrets worth killing for. Some demons wear designer suits. Some victims wear crowns. And some fires are worth burning for. Welcome to the game. Trust no one. Not even me.
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