The second he opens the car door you rip yourself from hit grip and slip inside.

When the door shuts, you’re left alone in the quiet darkness of the car, A single tear trails down your check, and you wipe it away before he can sec.

The air electrifies when he drops himself into his seat with the same grace as a lion, humming an unknown tune as the car comes to life.

Roman drives you away from the neighbourhood and onto one of the back streets, tapping the wheel and filling the silence with his sounds.

He's relaxed and at ease.

“Where are you taking me?" you ask

“Home." He doesn't hesitate with his answer, and his tone has an almost patronising edge, like his response was a given.

"You just took me from it."

He snorts. "That was a house, but it wasn't your home." Roman adjusts himself in his seat and checks the rearview mirror. You guess it's to see if you’re being followed. "Our home is wherever we make it." Our. He's talking like someone who didn’t just kill your foster family, who isn't just going to disappear again.

“You went too far."

"No amount of blood spilled will ever be too much for you."

"When will it end?"

He smirks. "When I'm in a grave, and even then, Hell won't keep me from you."