Kylie Bray and Vincent Stone

“What?” I didn’t recognize that soft note as it left my mouth. 

I was standing in front of this man, who I had loved even though he had time and time again hurt me. 

His face froze in a harsh angry scowl, and he was hurting me, with words, but they still cut deeper than a punch to the gut and I was allowing it. 

Why?

“You pathetic, pining like a little bitch in heat, embarrassing me at my cousins funeral. 

I’m going to tell you ONE time, I. Don’t. Fuck. Little girls! , so stay the fuck away from me.” 

I flinched at the grit and harshness of his tone and the proximity of his suit covered body. 

His words, It was too much. 

Did Vincent not understand that he tore me apart when he opened his mouth. 

His transfixed harsh eyes glaring at my sappy ones told me that he understood it very well but just didn’t give a fuck, because I was nothing to him. 

This was it. 

I would no longer love this man. 

I would learn to move on from Vincent Stone. 

How could I not, when it was obvious he loathed me. 

He was a made man and I was just a nuisance. 

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