The Last Spade Master
- Reads 1,993
- Votes 207
- Parts 80
MatureOngoing5h 32m
Last published Wed, Apr 10, 2024
In a dark narrow and abandoned subway, a man stumbled his way, holding a half-finished alcohol bottle in his hand. His stubbles longer, hair messy and ungroomed. His eyes are bloodshot and swollen from continuous crying.
He wobbled and fell down. A sharp stone grazed the side of his forehead, leaving a slight trail of blood, but he did not react as the pain in his heart numbed this pain from a petty wound.
He dragged his body and leaned against the wall of the alley. His bloodshot eyes looked up at the dark and gloomy sky without blinking. A lone tear slides from the side of his eyes, yet he made no effort to brush it away.
He closed his eyes as another tear slipped before he broke into heartwrenching cries. He throws the bottle in his hand at the wall as it shatters into pieces, just like his heart.
A loud scream sounded at the end of the subway, waking him up from his despair. He gets up before looking towards the source of the sound. The alley looks so dark, making it hard for him to see what was before him. He staggered towards the end of the subway.
When he heard another scream, he found that the sound came from the dilapidated shed at the end of the subway. He makes his way toward the shed. The door was already broken, making it easy for him to enter.
The man's eyes roamed around the shed, looking at the rusted steel pipes and other damaged electronics. This place seemed like a dump yard. When he felt something wet under his shoe, just like when one steps on muddy water, he squinted his eyes only to see a pool of blood. His eyes trailed the traces of blood, finally setting on the terrifying scene before him.
He retreated back with eyes full of fear before asking, "Wh... wh... what are you doing?".
"Please... help me."
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Just as Annabeth's hands reached to grab the back of her jacket, Sonya pivoted smoothly, one arm coiling around Annabeth's waist like a whip. There was a sharp gasp-Annabeth's-and then her spine slammed against the edge of the bar, the breath knocked clean from her chest. Sonya's forearm pressed hard across her collarbone, pinning her in place with infuriating ease. "If you wanted my attention, sugar, all you had to do was ask," Sonya murmured, her voice sultry and rough, lips inches from Annabeth's. "Get off me," Annabeth snarled, squirming beneath her hold. Sonya arched a brow, leaning in even closer until her body molded against the younger woman's-thigh to thigh, hip to hip. "You're feistier than the girls next door," she whispered against the shell of Annabeth's ear, her breath hot. "Careful now, Anna. I've always had a thing for resistance." Annabeth jerked against her, face twisting in rage. "Let. Me. Go. You stink of whiskey and whores," she spat, kicking against Sonya's shin. Sonya didn't flinch. "Say please," she drawled, her voice silk and steel, utterly unbothered. "Manners go a long way in this town." "Never," Annabeth hissed.
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