Krystal’s POV
I used to imagine that peace is a location. A faraway land. An obscure town. Oh, far enough so that your name was unimportant and your past could never catch you. Peace was something, and turned out to be a person. And in my case it was Colt.
The last few months had been passed in a village by the sea concealed away in a corner so quiet that the breakers only spoke gently, and the streets breath of fresh bread in the morning.
No one here knew us. At least, that is what we thought. The days were days of borrowed time. He would creep out early, and get his coffee at the corner old lady, who never would remember his name but always kept the warmest loaf. He would bring it home, proud as though he had hunted it, and we would eat at the window where the sea breeze moving throug
