Rox’s body is barely recognisable now, hunched and stumbling with more bone and blood than the man himself. His knees buckle with every step, skin split open in places flesh shouldn’t be exposed. He looks like a cracked porcelain doll someone tried to stich with fists instead of gentle hands.
Massimo stands in front of him, as glorious and terrifying I’m afraid for Rox.
The skin has torn from his knuckles too, but it’s just rage. But he’s no more grinning or smirking.
He looks… terrifying and otherworldly.
Like sin sculpted into his face, hair sweat-drenched and wild. There’s something feral in his stance. A stillness that makes my pulse roar.
The crowd is still mayhem.
“Look what you’ve done,” Someone hisses as I feel something sharp on my skin. Turning around, I find Sienna standin
