As soon as she moved towards him, again, he knew that things weren’t going to go the way he desperately wanted them to. He knew that Mackenzie was stubborn; she was a bloody Slytherin so that came along with the title, but he hadn’t ever bothered him more than it was right now. As soon as she grabbed his hand, he felt a surge of pain shoot up his arm, seeing how she had inadvertently tugged on it when she brought his hand up to examine. His fingers were still balled into tight fists, and he tried not to wince because of the discomfort she was causing him. The look on her face made it even worse, because he wasn’t capable of feeling sympathy right now. Usually, on any other day, if he had done something to hurt Mackenzie, whether it be physically or mentally, he would apologize in a heartbeat…or at least try to make up for it, which was an apology for Evan. The words ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘I apologize’ were not part of his every day vocabulary, and when they were used they were usually laced with copious amounts of sarcasm.
His eyes met hers, his jaw locking as she spoke that name. That fucking name, which represented the one person he hated, and wanted to kill more than anything. Others would do, but he wouldn’t be completely satisfied until he had Dearborn’s head on a fucking stick. Maybe he’d send it to Emmeline Vance; it’d be a beautiful wall hanging.
God she had to stop crying, because he wasn’t in the fucking mood for this right now! He couldn’t take a hormonal, pregnant woman, looking down at him with those large, weepy eyes, asking him to tell her where her friend had gone. Where Caradoc had gone. He just fucking couldn’t.
“....I don’t know a God damn thing about Caradoc Dearborn.” The words, which were spoken quietly, and hoarsely (especially that name), weren’t just talking about his location, but had a much deeper meaning.
(Read comments)
Post a comment in response:
scribbld is part of the horse.13 network
Design by Jimmy B.
Logo created by 
hitsuzen.
Scribbld System Status
