With a bottle of bourbon in one hand and with my blade in the other, that's how I found myself spending my night two days after I left the hotel. The sight was still imprinted in my mind. Her, wearing a shirt and nothing else with Malik standing topless behind.
What a bunch of conniving bastards. They were all a walking travesty. I knew something was odd about her, and I was right. She willingly came with the trash and picked him over me, despite the blatant truth in front of her eyes.
This was all his fault.
I downed the burning liquid and let my body sink further into my seat. I sighed and started my prayer.
"Nicholas Coppens. Jasmine Michaels. Hans De Wever..."
One by one, I recited their names. This has been my praxis for a long time. After all, the blood I shed never dries. It's
