ASHTON
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
I suck in a breath, chest tight, rain rolling down my face as Luther stares me down. The guy’s bleeding all over himself, pale as death, standing here shaking like a damn leaf, yet the only thing he gives a s**t about is her. Amanda. Always Amanda.
My throat knots painfully as I drag my hand down my face, wiping away water and blood and whatever else I've managed to collect tonight. I tilt my head back, staring up at the black sky as rain hits me straight in the eyes. Blinding. Stinging. Cold as hell. I grit my teeth and curse under my breath, trying to find the right words—any words—to soften what I’m about to throw at him.
But f**k it. There’s no softening this. How do you soften something this raw, this broken?
How the hell do I tell him she's breaking ap
