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Love from the ashes

Love, Betrayal, Blood, but not Hatred. Only cold revenge, and a son to complete the family. "D" Section, a nonexistent military unit. "D" for dark, "D" for depth, "D"... for death. It demanded no attachment, and Daemon sacrificed love for it. Years later, the death of his teammates made him feel that he had done enough for the country, so he came back to the city he grew in. But can what has been forsaken be gained back? Because now Evelyn, the one to have breathed vitality in his numb, orphaned heart, had her own life, and a little boy calling her mother. Also, while he left his life full of dead bodies behind, did that life really let him go? From the ashes, will it love or... ? _ _ _ Two lovers who still love each other even with scars left behind by past events. They narrowly miss a chance to meet again and rekindle the lost spark, with him left with an empty heart, and her with her pain renewed, only buried because of the sun of her life, her son, their son… that he knew nothing about. They each continue with their own life in their own way. Their paths even almost become parallel to each other, almost taking the opposite direction with new commitments. But fate be damned, even if it now seems to push them toward each other. From the ashes, their love shall blaze anew. Or maybe not. Find the answer yourself. ___ First draft of characters image on my discord, a channel for fans to get together: https://discord.com/invite/C86EJvCJdd Comment and review, don't forget.

LifeDayDreams · Urbano
Classificações insuficientes
276 Chs

204 - From the ashes

The door of the penthouse was closed with a very audible sound in the silence. Daemon didn't turn on the light, and the apartment was only kept away from total darkness thanks to the outside sparing some of the light splashing all over the place to include the apartment in the chaotic painting the mess created.

But as dim as the penthouse was, Daemon's heart seemed only dimmer. He seemed only too happy to let the lightless place reflect how his heart was feeling behind the impassive mask he was sporting.

He calmly took off his dark gloves, before he threw them, along with his blazer on the counter of the kitchen-cum-bar. Though the bar part of that corner had been neglected by Daemon, there was at least one bottle of alcohol which he took out and placed on the counter.

It had never been touched. He never touched alcohol, or to be precise, he almost never touched alcohol, and he almost never had a guest.