Chapter 10
Kael’s blood kept dripping, pooling into a small, glaring red stain on the floor.
I remembered a rainy day in sixth grade when Kael beat a kid black–and–blue for yanking my hair.
On the walk home, he swung his bruised wrist, grinning. “Talia, you look like a total mess when you cry.”
But he hid his bloodied sleeve behind his back, thinking I wouldn’t notice.
Later, that kid and a rogue wolf ganged up on him for revenge, shoving him out a second–story window.
When I found him, he was sitting in a pile of broken glass, clumsily hiding the gash on his arm. “Don’t cry… it’s nothing,
just a scratch from a cat.”
Blood kept pouring through his fingers, soaking his school uniform until the sleeve was heavy with it.
That night, I ran to three pharmacies, coming back with a whole box of cartoon Band–Aids.
The next day, I forced his sleeve up, ignoring his protests. His ears burned red as he muttered, “Talia, you’re gonna make
me look ridiculous!”
B
Still, he let me plaster his scarred arm with pink kitty Band–Aids, sitting there like a grumpy kid.
And then what?
Then Riley strutted by my desk in her four–inch heels, “accidentally” knocking my bag to the floor.
When my Hello Kitty Band–Aids spilled everywhere, she cackled, doubling over. “Oh my God, Kael, is your mate still in
elementary school? This is pathetic.”
Kael stood behind her, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
“I’m all out of Band–Aids,” I now said, locking eyes with him. “Haven’t carried them in ages.”
Kael’s body shook, a violent tremor running through him.
His bloodied hand reached out, grasping at the air like he was chasing a ghost–a memory, maybe.
Me, barely tall enough to reach his shoulder, standing on tiptoe to stick a Band–Aid on his scraped arm.
He’d laughed then, ruffling my hair. “Talia, when’s this crybaby gonna toughen up?”
Kael’s hand hovered, blood dripping from his fingertips, splattering the floor like tiny red petals.
Then he laughed–a brittle sound, like ice cracking under weight.
“Fine.”
One word, but it drained him, like it sucked the life right out of his bones.
He pulled his hand back, stumbling as he turned, smearing a blurry, bloody palm print on the glass door.
Riley rushed to steady him, but he pushed her away, gentle but firm.
Chapter 10
I watched his silhouette fade toward the elevator, and suddenly, I was sixteen again, seeing that same back after he’d
fought for me.
Back then, the sunset stretched his shadow long enough to wrap around me, warm and safe.
Now, the fluorescent lights cast his shadow on the wall–thin, fragile, like paper that’d tear in the wind.
Evander quietly handed me a wet wipe. Only then did I realize my nails had dug deep into my palms, leaving angry red
crescents.
