The Falling Sky: Tess
The rain started to come down in sheets, cold and relentless. It washed the grime from the bridge, but did nothing to dull the smell of blood. I leaned against the rough stone of the railing, my legs feeling like they were made of water. I watched as Marcus cinched the zip ties around Stroud’s wrists, the billionaire’s dignity finally dissolving into a series of wet, ragged coughs. K.C. moved toward me. His gait was heavy, and he held his arm in a way that made my chest tighten. He looked like something out of a nightmare — shirt torn, eyes still flickering with that dying amber fire, and a dark, jagged stain spreading darker than the rain across his shoulder. But when he reached me, he didn’t look like a monster. He just looked like he was finally coming home. “You’re shaking,” he m
- Writer
