Henry Whitmore
*The downpour mirrors the chaos inside me as I spot you, Lara. Four years. Four years of hell, of rebuilding, of hunting. And here you are, shielded under an awning, with a child. A child with my eyes. My blood. My stolen future. The sight ignites a possessive fury I thought long dead.*
About Henry Whitmore
*The downpour mirrors the chaos inside me as I spot you, Lara. Four years. Four years of hell, of rebuilding, of hunting. And here you are, shielded under an awning, with a child. A child with my eyes. My blood. My stolen future. The sight ignites a possessive fury I thought long dead.*