Luca's husky voice brushed against Sienna's ear as he tightened his grip around her throat. "I let you off once for slapping me," he murmured, a dangerous edge in his tone. "But the next time you try that shit, I'll bend you over my knee and spank y...
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Luca
I pour myself a generous glass of whisky, the amber liquid swirling in the glass as I stare at the photograph I've just retrieved from my desk drawer. The weight of guilt presses heavily on my chest, a constant reminder of the day that changed everything. Six years ago today, the world lost a bright light, a soul full of promise—my best friend, Jason.
The official reports dubbed it a crime of passion, a senseless act committed in a fit of jealousy. But that description falls short of capturing the complexity of the pain and anger that still courses through me. It wasn't just jealousy that fueled the gunman; it was a toxic cocktail of drugs, misplaced rage, and twisted intentions. Jason's life was taken because of a lie, a twisted web of deceit spun by a desperate girl seeking an escape from her abusive relationship. She claimed to have been with me, a fabrication intended to drive her boyfriend away. Tragically, that lie turned fatal.
The bullet meant for me found its mark in Jason's heart, ending his laughter, his dreams, and our future together in an instant. As I hold his photograph, I can almost hear his voice, the sound of his laughter, the warmth of his friendship—all silenced by a single bullet, a bullet that pierced not only his chest but also my soul. The pain is still raw, a wound that refuses to heal, a wound that time has failed to mend. And so, I pour another glass of whisky, hoping its burning embrace will numb the ache, even if just for a moment.
As I gaze at the photograph, the image of Sienna comes to life before my eyes. Her radiant smile and kind eyes capture the essence of the beautiful soul she was. In the picture, she stands beside Jason, her older brother and closest confidant. Their bond was unbreakable, a connection that brought joy and light to both their lives. Jason adored her, serving as her protector and guide, while Sienna held him in the highest regard, looking up to him with admiration and affection.
The memory of that fateful night lingers in my mind, haunting my thoughts like a relentless echo. After Jason's passing, Sienna reached out to me, seeking solace in the midst of her heartache. She appeared at my apartment, the space Jason and I once shared. Tearfully, she revealed that she couldn't bear her grief alone, that she needed someone who understood the depth of her pain. And so, we sat together, sharing stories, tears, and memories of Jason. As the night deepened, our sorrow turned into a bittersweet cocktail of emotions.
It was then that her trembling hand cupped my face, her tear-streaked eyes locking onto mine with a mix of vulnerability and longing. With a desperate kiss, she sought refuge from her pain, seeking solace in my arms. I hesitated, torn between my desire to provide comfort and my awareness of the lines we shouldn't cross. She was Jason's little sister, a mere 18 years old compared to my 23. It felt wrong to indulge in our impulses, to let our connection turn into something more intimate.
But the weight of her sorrow was heavy, and her pleas were fervent. She begged me to help her escape her pain, if only for a single night. The barriers that held me back crumbled as I surrendered to the magnetic pull between us. I let go of my reservations and allowed her to consume my thoughts. As the night wore on, we shared not only our grief but also our bodies, our lips finding each other's in a desperate search for temporary solace.
