DAMON
Past midnight, the yard was lit with torches, the cold air sharp enough to cut through a jacket, the kind of night that had no business still being awake. Neither did I. Neither did the two idiots currently digging their own graves in my backyard while the men stood around with shovels and zero sympathy.
Rika sat on an overturned crate like he owned the ground beneath it.
Jacket completely gone, black shirt open two buttons at the collar, sleeves pushed to his elbows, one ankle resting lazy over his knee. He hadn't shaved in two days and somehow that made it worse.
He looked relaxed and unbothered. Like it wasn't well past midnight and like there wasn't fresh blood still drying on his knuckles from the east stairwell. The torchlight hit the sharp line of his jaw and I thought, c
