Previous chapter:
Chapter 22 - 21: Faking the Dead
Next chapter:
Chapter 24 - 23: Tears That Taste Like Blood
PREVIEW
... through the open windows. Neon lights blurred past, streaks of red and white reflecting off wet pavement. The city pulsed with life even at this hour—distant sirens, the occasional honk, the hum of streetlights overhead.
Franz had one hand on the wheel, the other fishing out a cigarette from the dashboard.
Click. Flame. Inhale. Exhale.
The radio played softly at first, the familiar piano notes creeping in under the rush of the wind.
"I’m holding on your rope, got ...
YOU MAY ALSO LIKE





























