Chapter 63

The Prey

I was not afraid of death, but the man breathing over my head.

Ready to take my soul.

Demolish me. And then devour me.

As if he hadn't done it already.

I didn't know how I was still breathing, or why was I even alive. He should plunge this knife into my chest and kill me too. Cause I couldn't watch it. How could I when a man was squirming on the floor in his own blood.

Everything around me was shrinking, suffocating me in the violence.

My breath caught in my throat as I looked disbelievingly Judas—calm, collected, eerily unbothered by the pool of blood now seeping across the floor. His fingers resumed their idle robotical drumming against my waist.

And with every tap, I'd panic a little more.

Carlo's guttural groans filled the suffocating silence, but Judas paid him no mind. His hand, now clean of blood, traced slow, almost affectionate circles on my side. The warmth of his touch burned through the cold