Page 79
Story: The Torturer's Target
I can’t remember. A death like that is too insignificant for me to even remember.
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over. She swore and stubbornly blinked them back. What the hell was wrong with her? She didn’t cry, damn it.
The house was just too quiet.
Max's eyes abruptly sprang open in the pitch-black room. He sensed it immediately. He was not alone.
Instinctively, he reached for the bedside lamp and illuminated the room in a soft glow. His gaze wandered to a figure that was leaning against the wall.
Tesiera.
He blinked a few times to make sure he was not dreaming. He wasn’t. It was indeed her.
“Tesiera?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
She remained motionless, staring off into the distance. But he was sure it was her. She was dressed in her usual attire; black leather. But something seemed…off.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his concern growing with every passing moment. Judging from the open window beside her, he didn’t need to ask how she managed to enter his room.
Instead, he got out of bed in his sweatshirt and approached her.
“Don’t. I shouldn’t have come here,” she whispered. “Don’t come any closer. Please.”
He halted in his tracks. Her tone was calm, but there was a crack in her voice that broke something in him.
“Are you alright, Siera?” he asked in a soothing voice. “Baby, please talk to me.”
Silence hung in the air, and the tension in the room was palpable.
“The house was too quiet.” Her voice barely audible.
Then she stepped out of the shadows, and Max could finally see her face. Her expression was composed, but her eyes…
Tesiera Anderson was fighting to hold back tears. And she was losing the battle.
As she approached him, Max instinctively opened his arms for her. And held his breath, afraid he’d scare her away.
A tear escaped from her eyes. “The house was way too quiet, Doc,” she repeated, and her voice trembled slightly.
Then she walked into his open arms.
“Work your magic, Doc. Make this pain go away so I don’t have to do it my way,” she whispered, against him.
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over. She swore and stubbornly blinked them back. What the hell was wrong with her? She didn’t cry, damn it.
The house was just too quiet.
Max's eyes abruptly sprang open in the pitch-black room. He sensed it immediately. He was not alone.
Instinctively, he reached for the bedside lamp and illuminated the room in a soft glow. His gaze wandered to a figure that was leaning against the wall.
Tesiera.
He blinked a few times to make sure he was not dreaming. He wasn’t. It was indeed her.
“Tesiera?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
She remained motionless, staring off into the distance. But he was sure it was her. She was dressed in her usual attire; black leather. But something seemed…off.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his concern growing with every passing moment. Judging from the open window beside her, he didn’t need to ask how she managed to enter his room.
Instead, he got out of bed in his sweatshirt and approached her.
“Don’t. I shouldn’t have come here,” she whispered. “Don’t come any closer. Please.”
He halted in his tracks. Her tone was calm, but there was a crack in her voice that broke something in him.
“Are you alright, Siera?” he asked in a soothing voice. “Baby, please talk to me.”
Silence hung in the air, and the tension in the room was palpable.
“The house was too quiet.” Her voice barely audible.
Then she stepped out of the shadows, and Max could finally see her face. Her expression was composed, but her eyes…
Tesiera Anderson was fighting to hold back tears. And she was losing the battle.
As she approached him, Max instinctively opened his arms for her. And held his breath, afraid he’d scare her away.
A tear escaped from her eyes. “The house was way too quiet, Doc,” she repeated, and her voice trembled slightly.
Then she walked into his open arms.
“Work your magic, Doc. Make this pain go away so I don’t have to do it my way,” she whispered, against him.
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