ROXANNA.
My idea of the man I was sent to kill was nothing like the person standing in front of me.
Delilah had only told me he was dangerous, the worst man I would ever meet, and then she stopped there.
She never explained why she wanted him dead, never gave me a reason strong enough to hold on to.
For a brief and foolish moment, I wondered if they had once been lovers.
I would not have judged her for it, not when he looked like that.
Azrael was fire without smoke, the kind that burned quietly but never stopped spreading.
He carried danger in his presence alone, far too intense to be just a professor. My eyes followed him as he walked toward the board, my chest tightening without reason, and when he cleared his throat, the room fell silent.
"Good morning guys," he said, his deep voice rolling through the class, and my breath caught because it sounded too familiar.
I knew that voice.
