Chapter 113: You Owe Me, Little Sister
The man stood against the broken sunlight, his entire figure glowing faintly, as if the sun itself bent its light to touch him. His white hair, soft and bright like fallen snow, swayed gently in the breeze, brushing against his forehead with a lazy grace that somehow made him seem even more otherworldly.
Every movement of his seemed to stir the air around him, as though even the wind hesitated to disturb him. His tall, lean body fit so perfectly with his chiseled face that it hurt to look at him for too long. He looked detached, distant from the shattered world around them, like he did not belong to this place—or to any place at all.
Eli’s heart squeezed painfully. He had longed to see his daddy again, but now that he stood there before him, fear curled around Eli’s chest. His fists clenched tightly, nails digging into his palms. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from crying.
Because he had run away from home again. Disobeyed his daddy’s words again. Daddy had warned him so many times, and yet he had still done it. All because he wanted to find his pretty sister, the girl who had smiled at him with such warmth when no one else did and who had loved him even more than his stingy daddy.
Eli could only manage a strained, crooked smile toward the man gazing at him—one that looked more like he was angry or about to cry. Maybe, just maybe, if he helped save his sister first, Daddy would forget about his mistakes. Maybe he could still fix it later.
The man’s sharp, unfathomable gaze lingered on him for a long moment, so heavy that Eli felt it press down on his very soul. But he said nothing. Instead, he turned his head slowly toward the fallen girl lying in the dirt.
With a soft click, the door of the vehicle swung open on its own, as if the battered metal had suddenly remembered how to obey. Eli jumped out without thinking, his small legs moving faster than his mind, and he dashed across the blood-soaked ground toward Liora.
The man crouched down beside her without a sound, his movements so fluid and effortless it was as if the world itself moved to make way for him. He reached out and brushed aside the bloodied strands of Liora’s hair from her face, his fingers unnaturally gentle against her battered skin.
His thumb paused for a moment on her bruised cheek. His smile, when it came, was filled with disdain.