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He wouldn’t even grant her this one last wish. She half expected her shame to crush her on its own, but as the mature morning light dimmed before her failing eyes, the strong jaws that held her captive decided to loosen their grip and let her limb body slide to the red stained ground beneath. Eyelids trembled with the unbearable defeat, but air rushed into her starving lungs nevertheless; insisting to keep her alive. Perhaps her unconscious desire for survival was stronger than the conscious wish to die. But she had failed—failed hard and brutally. Despite the effort she had put into her profession, it was not enough. The mental blow was beyond anything.
The Centurion’s breath was hoarse and weighted by her shame, and scarlet eyes refused to reach for the victorious canine before her. It took some time for her pulse to settle on a relatively normal pace, but even then, she could not find the strength to give him anything. She felt emptier than ever, and couldn’t think of what to say now. She didn’t know Ezekiel—had never cared to even try because of her presumptions. Perhaps he was just prolonging this moment for his own amusement. She knew Talitha better than she wanted, and ignorantly believed the bitch’s brother had to be of a similar calibre.
But, eventually, scarlet hues rose to the man she had failed to dethrone, awaiting the punishment that no doubt was to come.
Your faith walks on broken glass
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