Rhea (Elena)
Three months later …
When her fist makes contact with my ribs, I double over in pain. I try in vain to pull myself out of it before she comes at me again, but I am too late. Her hand grips around my wrist, and soon I'm flying in the air being flipped onto my back. My landing is hard, and the minute I hit the ground, I feel all the air leave my lungs at once. Her shadow comes closer, and soon her face is in front of mine.
“Again,” she barks at me.
“Why are you so angry all the time?” I huff as I try my best to take in a full breath. “Have you been checked for rabies?”
A low growl reverberates from deep within Berke’s chest. “Get up,” she commands through clenched teeth.
It always makes her angry when I crack a dog joke, which is why I do it so often.
