My dead heart turned over at the sight of him. The door hit the wall with a smack, but I didn’t care, too absorbed in the sight of him. “Michael,” I breathed. It had been so long. So painful. Finally, I was home again and we could pick up where we’d left off.
Then I noticed his expression and I faltered.
What could have put so much hate there? What had changed in him over these past eight months. He was always smiling before. At least, he was always smiling at me. This wasn’t how he was with me. He was kind, gentle. That expression. So angry. So cold. Like he despised me.
“Michael?” My voice was hesitant as I looked at him. Slowly, he raised his gun, clicking back the safety and pointing it at my head. I frowned at him. “Michael, it’s me. It’s Annabelle. Anna. Michael? It’s your wife.”
“My wife,” he said icily, “is dead. I’ll give you thirty seconds to run. After that, you're free game."
"But Michael," I protested.
He cut me off. "Listen to me, bloodsucker. I loved my wife. You killed her. Now I'm going to kill you. Don't try to argue."
"I-"
"You have ten seconds."
"Michael-"
"Eight."
"Please," I begged him, agony filling my chest. "It's me Michael! I swear! It's me! Please!"
"Answer me this," he demanded, glaring at me. "Did you torture her first? Or did you just take her body?"
"Michael, listen to me!"
"I don't take orders from vampires. Let alone from you."
"Michael!"
"Time's up." A shot rang out in the air and the door frame to my left exploded in a shower of wooden chunks. I yelped. Then, shooting him one last pain filled look, I turned and ran.
'What are you doing here?' he said angrily forcefully yanking my arm. 'I told you to stay hidden.'
I pulled my arm free. 'I know but I wanted to help!' I told him with creased brows wondering why we were wasting time.
'By getting yourself killed? Is that your idea of helping?' his deep eyes shot daggers at me.
'I don't care! This is my fight too?' I argued shooting back the daggers.
'You don't...' he mumbled the rest of the statement running his hand through his hair in obvious frustration. 'This is a war, not one of your childish games, Santana.'
Injured by his words, I shot back. 'Then i would rather die than li...' I stopped when the atmosphere immediately changed...drastically.
His eyes narrowed into mere slits as his face grew dark and he seemed to loom darkly and threateningly over me. I shivered as I stepped back in both awe and fear. He suddenly scooped down and gripped my shoulders pulling closer to him while lifting me off the ground until i was almost the same height as him.
'I will rip everyone's throat with my bare hands before I let anyone touch you.' he hissed his eyes a deep shade of grey that they were almost black.
What the hell?
* * *
All Santana wanted was to live an quiet life. After what happened to her Grandmother everyone's eyes were on her family and all she had to do was to try and not be a psycho... how hard could it be?
Oh...she had no idea.
From her recurring dream to her brother's terrifyingly accurate intuition to her own ability see beyond the physical, it was becoming increasingly obvious that something was amiss...
***