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Walking That Line

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It's a hot day, and her body is still human (still Kate's) , so here it is: a droplet of sweat, rolling down from her neck, leaving a crooked trail — down, down to her cleavage, and he follows it with his gaze, and he hates himself for it.

But he can hate Brasa instead. Brasa’s own gaze follows Amaru (Kate's body) whole, full of restrained yet still obvious lustful greed. The kind that always lingers on the verge of hate, when the desire for something you can't have burns you and burns you and burns you.

And Amaru’s gaze, it just eyes Seth lightly, followed by a crooked smile of disdain, before she turns away on her heels, leaving him to Brasa as if he was a new toy for her favorite hound.

“Seth Gecko.” The Hound’s bark is almost lazy. “You are here for the girl.”

Seth grits his teeth.

“I'm here to stop your little Human Torch escapade. To cancel your fucking series.”

“Of course you are.” He tugs off the leather gloves from those freakish hands of his, still lazily. “Well, you don't deserve her anyway.”

Seth's fist squeezes the handle of the gun to the point where the bones of his palm ache. “What did you just say? What did you just say to me?”

Oh, Seth. You and your ridiculous street boy bravado. Every boy like you thinks he's Travis fucking Bickle.

“The girl.” The motherfucker grins. “She might be just a two-legged white animal, much like yourself, but at least she has something you never appreciated.”

“And what is that?” Seth hates himself for asking, hates his own voice for giving that hatred away, but he can't help it.

“The strength of her soul. During the past six moons the girl has proved herself to be quite a challenge to the queen herself. She wanted to reach out to you and your friends so bad — not because she sought help, but because she was scared for you. And you know what I think? I think your lives weren't worth it. Your life is not worth it.”

That rush of blood to your head that drowns you, makes you deaf and blind.

“The queen won't be needing her anymore soon. The girl might survive, but may I be honest? I believe she's gonna end up feeling dreadfully empty. If it was for a better man, that emptiness could be got rid of, but you? The only thing you might think of is to fill her up with your cock.”

That rush of blood that makes you deaf and blind, the blow of sheer fury that lands between your ribs, painful and firm.

She’s quite pretty for a human animal, pretty and strong. Such a waste. She'll end up being nothing but dead meat.”

You want to make a bitter remark on Brasa’s own lusting after his bitch queen, but the unsaid words turn into boiling acid inside your throat.  

The bullets won't kill the bastard, but they are at least able to make him bleed, so Seth shoots just to watch him do so. He wounds his chin, and Brasa writhes in pain and still laughs, his blood so dark it's almost purple.

“Maybe it's the best fate she could wish for. All the men she ever loved could do nothing better but keep on killing her.”

And then Seth shuts Brasa up, for now — shuts him up by sending a bullet into his laughing maw. But he can't shut up his voice — and Seth’s own voice — inside his head.

He can't.