Mason Nightshade recalled her smile at him last night. Was she trying to reconcile with him? But he... He messed it up!
Mason punched the wall heavily, blood flowing down the white wall like a winding stream. Yet, he seemed to feel no pain, throwing another heavy punch at the ground. His distinct knuckles were stained with bright red blood, which dripped one by one from his fingertips, hitting the floor.
He didn't know how much time had passed before Mason moved his stiff body. He raised his wrist and glanced at the time; it was already four in the morning.
Supporting himself on the ground, he stood up unsteadily, looked back at the still tightly shut door, raised a hand, and let his fingers hover in front of the door panel for a long time, yet he didn't knock. He finally stepped away, took the elevator, and left.
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