It's a deadly feeling, experiencing it once makes a person feel like they've survived a calamity, like they've walked through hell and back.
He never thought he'd bring it upon her again.
The heart, dull with pain, a pain too intense to bear.
Hearing his voice, Jasmine Yale moved her lips. She wanted to speak; there were so many things she wanted to tell him, but her throat was dry, devoid of strength.
"Spencer Childe," Sylvan Cheney shouted, "Let Jasmine go, there are things we need to settle alone."
"Ha." Spencer Childe sneered, "You even call out my name, truly gutsy; I see you've never really taken me seriously. You were always pretending, weren't you? Look, you didn't even need probing, and you've already slipped."
"I don't want to waste words with you. Tell me, what are your terms?" Sylvan Cheney gripped the handgun tightly.
Charles Mcintosh held the umbrella for Sylvan Cheney with one hand, while the other was ready at any moment.
