She's an innocent girl who lived with her alcoholic abusive father. Her life was barley manageable, especially when she was separated from her biological family at such a young age.
When her father mysteriously dies from a car crash, she's taken to...
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NICHOLAS' POV:
Continuous loud thuds echo through the room.
A loud breath escapes my lips as I run my powdered hand down my face. Sweat emerges and trickles down my head.
I glare back at the punching bag, profusely sweating. My gaze adverts from the swinging punching bags and my bloody fists. After a while, I finally manage to snap out of my trance, then headed towards my bottled water.
I grip my phone in my hand, checking the time.
4:17am.
Everyone would be awake now, except for Elijah. Him being a mafia doctor, he claims that having 8 hours of sleep is mandatory, and we should all go for that goal.
None of us do.
My hand shakes in overwhelming anger. It reminds me of why I'm here in the first place. A single contract could be the downfall of every single one of us. One that relates to Azalea. One that she doesn't know about.
My eyes squeeze shut as I fist my hand into a ball. Impulsively, my hand harshly connects with the wall.
My eyes glimmer with immense hatred towards my supposed great, great, great grandfather that thought proceeding with this contract would make things better, just to test it. And just Azalea's luck, she was a target for the conditions written on the paper.
She's already gone through some deep bullshit no one should have to go through.
It's unfair. Like the whole world is after her. Hopefully, she'd be ready in 3 years to add yet another burden in her big sack she'd been carrying around. It's too soon, and we only just got her back.
I once again take a deep breath. I lean my forehead against the wall and close my eyes, desperately trying to calm down before school.
For the sake of me not inguring anyone here, I take heavy steps towards the door, fustrated. I keep a stone blank face as I walk past Elijah and Giovanni in the kitchen, them knowing better than to disturb me during my little.. temper tantrums.
༄ ✯ ༄ ADIAN'S POV
I lean back in my seat, kicking my legs on top of the unstable wooden desk. I discreetly glance to my left, seeing Azalea's hair spread out on the desk, a result of her resting her head in the warmth of her arms.
As the teacher grumpily walks around, only then do I notice everyone else has their books out, and seemingly, we were meant to start jotting down notes a while ago.
As she hovers over people, I take that as a chance to swiftly tap Azalea and wake her up from her fanstasy dreams so we can avoid yet another punishment.
She stirs, releasing a quiet groan.
"What?" her voice comes out croaky, barely above a whisper.
"You need to get the work done, now." I keep my blank expression.
