The wall kept blinking with the enlarged images of familiar digital correspondences, lighting up the room and making the already pale man even paler. His face had turned from white to ashy, as dread filled the trapped rat's eyes.
Ethan looked at the girl in front of him. There was no longer the carefree, haughty rich brat she was known for these days. The black eyes, deep and distant, were a reminiscence of the family's favored daughter who excelled at everything. The girl he used to assist.
But within the familiar gaze, within the trace of depth and kindness he knew from her before, was an abyss filled with pain and fury. Dripping with cruelty.
"Young Miss...?" his voice was shaking, like a man standing on a bridge of fragile glass. The girl was holding the rope, his lifeline, and Ethan was hoping for old-time compassion.
Too late for that.
