Blaze
I’ve asked myself that exact question so many times. Why didn’t I just kill her when I had the chance? It would’ve been simple, clean. No one would have cared, least of all me. But something—something kept me from doing it. I don’t know what it was. Maybe it was the way she looked at me, or maybe it was just some twisted part of me that wanted to drag this out. Then her father, that smug bastard, made that comment. The one that still rattles around in my head whenever I think of Freya. I don’t know why, but after that, I couldn’t see her the same way. Not that I liked her. Hell, I still hated her, probably more now than ever. But I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Right now, I could see the way her eyes burned with that hatred for me, and it pleased me. She wanted me dead, wanted
