The Calm Before the Storm
Ryland Krystal Tocher was a f*****g problem. Not in the way most people were. Not in the way that was easy to pinpoint, to fix, to handle. No, she was the kind of problem that sunk into your skin, slow and insidious, poisoning everything without you even realizing it. And the worst part? I couldn’t even find a goddamn flaw in her work. I’d tried. f**k, I’d tried. But every time I thought I had her cornered, she slipped through my fingers like smoke. Every minute calculation, every adjustment, every piece of data—I pushed, and she pushed right the f**k back, unshaken. She never reacted. Never snapped. Just met me with that infuriating f*****g patience, like I wasn’t worth the energy it took to get mad. Until today. I could feel the rage vibrating off her before she even set foot in
- Writer
