Chapter One

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Chapter One


"You don't have to worry about my family."

The boy smiled, holding her arm as he led her down the stone-lit path. "I know that they're intimidating at first, but that's only because they don't like new people."

"I'm new, aren't I?" the girl asked, brows knit together.

"Yeah, but they'll like you."

The boy smiled. His name was Carter. He was a foolish, foolish boy, lovesick and tripping over himself the moment she cast her attention his way.

She was not the kind of girl a mother would want her son to bring home. Such a devilish little rose she was, and what was a rose without its thorns? To be held so tenderly only to be cut-to be loved, thought beautiful, and only want the boy's blood on her sweet red petals.

She did not love him. She was there to kill him.

"I hope so."

Rannia slipped her hand into Carter's as they neared the front door of his family's abode. It was strangely modest for a family so rich. The Amirs were known in the crime world by name and by face; revered and to be feared, they were opposed by almost none. So for such selfish bastards-such dirty money-loving fools, it was indeed strange.

The Amirs knew no modesty. Only blood.

Fools. Rannia offered Carter a loving side glance, letting her warm lips turn upwards.

"I'm nervous," the boy admitted, squeezing her hand for comfort. He offered her a vulnerable look, dimples chewing into the edges of his cheeks nervously.

"It'll be okay," you blasted idiot. I'm the one meeting your goddamn family, it shouldn't be you who's nervous.

He took her hand and helped her up the front steps. There were two steps that led up. Each were lined with faint cracks of mildew in the rigid texture of concrete, each had small patches of wet from a recent rain. When Rannia had envisioned the Amir's home, she had pictured a looming navy mansion with cracked glass windows and skulls with blood strewn across the dying lawn. Maybe she had been exaggerating.

She pursed her lips and looked up at the door. A quaint, single door. Potted plants with growing herbs lined the sides, filling the front porch with a mist of fresh mint and spice.

Quite homey, she noted. Displeasure filled her chest as they waited for someone to answer the door. What did she expect. The Amir's couldn't possibly be bothered to greet their goddamn guest, now could they?

Carter raised his slim and shaky arm to rap on the door. The cuffs of his sleeve pulled back a little, revealing the lightly dusted skin of his forearm and the small basic watch that clasped his wrist.

Fool.

Rannia supposed that the boy was cute, but how could he truthfully believe that a girl like her would date a boy like him? It was the first warning sign of mercy she'd offered. Run before it is too late, boy. Run. The boy took none.

"Your parents are home?" Rannia asked sweetly. Carter nodded, running a hand across the side of his face. He let out a tense breath and loosened his shoulders a little. Rannia smiled. "Alright."

With a light shove of her shoulder and the tug of her arm, she opened the door herself. The Amirs did not deserve her patience. Ignoring the pure panic surging through Carter's every cell, Rannia grabbed his arm and lugged him in after her. It seemed quite the merciless act: to make a boy enter his own parents' home.

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