"What just happened?" The customs officer was shot from behind; looking back, I saw the culprit coming at us with a gun.
Moon goddess! Who is he? Is he also going to shoot us? Oh my gosh, before I could stop myself, I had already hidden behind Bryce.
I don’t know who the man is; it’s best I save myself first. I also don’t want to die.
"He is not an officer; he is one of Lupito’s n," the man with the gun said as he drew closer to us.
Lupito? Who is Lupito? Does Bryce know him?
"I need a cigarette," Bryce exhaled. The man with the gun brought a pack of cigarettes and extended it to Bryce. Bryce pulled a single stick, and the man lit the cigarette for him.
Huh, do they know each other? Is he one of Bryce’s n? Am I safe?
"I’m sorry you had to go through this; I should have appeared sooner." The man with the gun lowered his head in apology. "I’ll take care of the man." He picked up the customs officer and hung his lifeless body over his shoulder; then he walked closer to the sea and dumped the body there.
What the fuck!
The wine bottle unintentionally slipped from my fingers and shattered on the floor; the sound attracted Bryce’s attention.
"I asked you to stay in the car. What are you doing here?" He looked at , but I didn’t respond and imdiately left.
I can’t understand him. I can’t understand any of them. I returned to the car, opened it, and got in.
I relaxed against the car seat and closed my eyes. I experienced different emotions in such a short span, but Bryce didn’t seem to notice any of them.
He is a fucking bastard! He asked what I was doing there as if he hadn’t seen panic. He is crazy. They’re all crazy.
Ten minutes later, he returned to the car and sat in the driver’s seat. Without a word, he started the car, and we hit the highway. I didn’t speak to him either. Why would I? I’m pissed at him for what he did.
He didn’t even bother to explain the situation to . I was so worried for him, and the first question he dared to ask was, "What are you doing here?"—and not "Are you okay?" or "I hope you didn’t get hurt." Why did the moon goddess connect to such a heartless bastard?
I needed a Prince Charming, not soone like him.
I kept my eyes closed and stayed quiet until we arrived. Once I noticed the car had stopped moving, I opened the door and got out, only to see a different environnt.
Wait, where are we? What are we doing here? This is not the house.
I looked at Bryce after he got out of the car. "Where are we?" I asked him.
"Co with ," he said as he began to walk away, but I ignored him and squatted beside the car.
I’m not going anywhere. I don’t care what he does to . I won’t move an inch. After he noticed I wasn’t tagging along, he returned to the car and to .
"What are you doing here?" he asked, looking down at , but I folded my arms and looked away.
"Are you a child? Why are you holding grudges?" He sighed, but I didn’t respond and remained quiet.
"We’re at an Italian restaurant; let’s eat. You didn’t have a chance to finish your al." He pulled to my feet, but I didn’t make a move.
"Do I have to drag you there?" he muttered and started pulling along with him.
"I’m not going anywhere. Leave alone!" I struggled to pull away from him, but his grip was tight. We entered the restaurant through the back door and got into the elevator.
Once he released his grip on in the elevator, I distanced myself from him and turned the other way.
He didn’t say a word until the elevator opened.
"Do you want to remain there?" he asked, seeing I was still in the elevator.
He sighed again, entered the elevator, and dragged out.
"Do you like it when I do this to you? Why do you keep making things difficult?" he murmured as he took into the restaurant.
"Welco, I will escort you to your room," a waiter said, leading us to a VIP room.
"I’ll take your order." The waiter dropped the nu on the table close to Bryce.
"Carbonara. I think she’ll like that," Bryce requested without looking at the nu.
"Oh, good choice." The waiter nodded and briefly glanced at .
"Do you want anything for yourself, sir?"
"Whisky."
"Okay, should I add wine to her order?"
"Non-alcoholic."
"Alright, sir, it’ll take so minutes for the head chef to cook the al; please bear with us." The waiter politely bowed before exiting the room.
"I’m not hungry," I murmured once we were alone.
"What?"
"I said I’m not hungry!" I repeated.
He shifted his gaze from his phone to .
"Well, you can just stare at the food once it gets here."
What? I should stare at it? What sort of response is that? This is why I hate him and his brothers. They lack emotions.
They don’t have feelings. If you were to open their chests, you would discover a stone in place of a heart. They have rocks for hearts.
"Are you actually that angry?" A few minutes passed before he spoke again, but I didn’t respond.
He put his phone on the table and focused on . I was still fuming.
"I was out of it, I admit it; it’s my fault," he said.
It’s his fault? What is he apologizing for? I side-eyed him, wondering.
"I was a little inconsiderate," he continued. "You were worried for , but I hadn’t considered that."
Ohhh, he knows what he did. This bastard... This devil.
"I wasn’t worried," I lied.
"You were," he retorted. "My brothers inford about the ssages you sent to them. I’ll reflect on myself so this mistake won’t repeat itself," he continued.
He’ll reflect on himself? Is he serious about this, or is he joking? Or am I the one hearing him wrongly?
Bryce hardly apologizes, even when he’s wrong.
I cleared my throat and side-eyed him again. "R...really?"
"If it will make you happy, then yes." He picked up his phone and returned his attention to it.
Why is he back on his phone again? I thought he was serious about this.
"How sorry are you? It doesn’t seem like you’re sorry..." I whispered, still annoyed.
"I am," he muttered.
"Then show !" I demanded.
"Huh," he moved his eyes to . I locked eyes with him. "Show how sorry you are."
"You want to do that?" He frowned.
I gulped. "Yes."
He went quiet. I stayed still. A few minutes passed before he spoke up again.
"Okay," he said, and imdiately stood to his feet. He began approaching .
Wait, where’s he going? What is he planning to do? What does he want to do?! What is this?
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