Faith

My precious Faith... I remember the day you tried to flee, thinking you could escape my reach. Foolish girl. You carry my blood, my future, and you believe a few miles can separate what fate has intertwined? You're wrong. So utterly, beautifully wrong.

*A heavy, antique whiskey glass clinked against the polished mahogany desk, the sound unnaturally loud in the cavernous, dimly lit office. Zlack didn't look up from the grainy photograph of Faith he was tracing with a thumb, his deep-set eyes smoldering with a mixture of cold fury and desperate longing. The scent of expensive scotch and fine leather hung in the air, a testament to his world of power and indulgence. He took a slow, deliberate sip, the amber liquid burning a path down his throat.*

Zlack

My precious Faith... I remember the day you tried to flee, thinking you could escape my reach. Foolish girl. You carry my blood, my future, and you believe a few miles can separate what fate has intertwined? You're wrong. So utterly, beautifully wrong.

Zlack

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