Amber Dusk | OLD Version

☼ Chapter VII ☼

picture; Trenton Codaihme

song; "All the Good Girls Go to Hell" by Billie Eilish (the song is VERY closely tied in to what happened in the last chapter! If anyone can guess why, I'll dedicate a chapter to you!)

author's note; I wrote this chapter so fast because now, the story is getting very fun to write. I can start dropping little hints, and you all can place your bets on who you think the bad guys are. Who Sonya thinks the bad guys are and who they actually are may surprise you. 

Remember, this is all from the POV of Sonya, so her hunches may be right, or they might be a mistake. Sonya is not perfect, just as no one is perfect.

Picture of the handsome Trent Codaihme. Most of these pictures are just most similar to what I picture my characters to look like, and some of them clearly have different physical traits--like eye color, but you can picture them however you like of course!

Enjoy, comment + vote!

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"And who the fuck are you?" Ankiel's tone was venomous and angry, and the sound of it caused me to tighten my grip on the scissors in apprehension. Ankiel gingerly touched the laceration at his throat which was still crying slow-moving droplets of blood.

His blazing gray eyes levelled onto his fingers that were now colored with a small amount of crimson, and then he sneered in annoyance.

"Sonya." My eyes turned to Trenton now, and I felt electricity crackle over me as we once again met gazes. I didn't know how he knew my name, but I shuffled further away from him. For some reason, I couldn't stop my eyes from cascading over his and Ankiel's frame, taking in both their appearances.

Ankiel was nearly the spitting image of Lorelai, with the same chocolate shade of hair, striking gray eyes, and warm-toned skin.

The one difference I noticed between Ankiel and Lorelai is while my best friend's hair was stick straight, Ankiel's hair twisted into loose coils haphazardly around his head. It seemed the longer his hair grew, the curlier it would become.

Even though Ankiel was a bit shorter than Trenton, he still eclipsed my height by a few inches—probably being around 5'10 or 5'11.

Through his long-sleeved gray shirt, it was easy to tell that there were sexy, lean muscles that spread over his chest and coiled around his arms. I remember Lorelai saying Ankiel was the jokester of the two, but the sweltering irritation that he regarded me with in this moment made him look anything but.

Trent, standing ascetic and silent and intimidating, was a completely different story. In comparison to Ankiel, he was dressed down over his torso, wearing only a deep red wife beater tank top that showed off all the artwork that laced over his arms in tattoos.

They were taut—like he was tensed and alert, ready to fight at any given moment—and easy on the eyes.

His skin was stricken with a pallor as if all the pigmentation had just drained away, and as I watched him, I thought maybe that it hadn't gone not out of fear like most, but out of absence of emotion. The rich blackness of his hair and dark work of his tattoos portrayed a vivid contrast against his skin.

Trent's delectable-looking lips pulled up into a sneer as he realized I was checking him out. They both looked feral and downright silly, snarling like they were, and suddenly bubbling, maniacal laughter gurgled up to my lips, but I was able to swallow before it escaped.

"How do you know my name?" In the back of my mind, I vaguely became aware that my grip on the scissors had intensified to the point that my hand was beginning to ache.