Attraction, desire, and sinfully beautiful, Mika Santana is a devil with the face of an angel. Despite her tragic past, she's never given up her ruthless pursuits for success and vengeance which leaves little to no room for matters of the heart. But...
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Bodies fall like flies. Those steel-blue eyes pierce into my soul, pleading for a second chance. My finger trembles on the trigger as sweat rolls down my forehead. The stark white sky fades to black, blurring my vision. The fire of a bullet rings in my ear as a body slumps down at my feet. Smoke collects at the barrel of the pistol in my hands. My mouth falls open as a hole forms in his head, leaking with blood.
Luka's eyes are bloodshot, wide with uneasiness as his blood pools at my feet, building, and building like a tsunami wave. His body evaporates in the ocean of blood. Something latches onto my ankle, dragging me further into the blood with air bubbles left in my wake. My hands flap around like a fish out of the water as I try to swim to the top.
After what seems like years, the person releases my ankle, and I swim to the top, gasping when I'm out of the water. I'm hyperventilating, glancing at my bloody hands. My throat clogs up as five versions of Luka appear in front of me with the nasty scar. They all express different emotions-- sorrow, mischievousness, cruelness, concern.
"You have to live with my blood on your hands."
"Who would know, the picture-perfect Asiel is a cold-blooded killer."
"I didn't kill him, Asiel, I swear. I loved him more than anyone else in my life."
"Can't wait until you visit me in hell."
It was endless. All versions of Luka scream phrases in vain, making my heart accelerate. I don't know what I believe anymore. But if I didn't react, then Mika would've died. I'm sorry. Forgive me, my lord and savior-- I didn't want this to ever happen. I collapse to my knees, covering my ears with my hands as I try to silence the voices.
I did the right thing.
It was for Mika.
Aren't you happy, Ander? I delivered your lover to you.
A loud gasp escapes my throat as I jolt forward, gripping my throbbing chest. The blanket sheets stick to my body from all the sweat. My stomach recoils, bubbling with acid as the image of Luka's dead body stains my mind. The fucker haunts me from beyond the grave. It's my fifth nightmare straight.
My eyes float to the orange, bright numbers on the digital clock resting on my bedstand. Three in the morning. At least I managed to sleep for four hours tonight. That's an hour more than the days before. That's a new record. Once I'm up, I can't go back to bed. Removing my blanket, I stretch my tense muscles and hop into the bathroom.
After performing my morning routine, I toss on my gym attire and my bag to go, fight the demons in my head with physical activity. I'm overdue for a session. I had to take a few weeks off for my shoulder, but the doctor cleared me for physical activities. Tie-toeing out like a high schooler sneaking out of his house, I slip through the front door and hop in my Jeep.
