Impending doom.

You felt it when Terzo was dragged off of stage, and you feel it now that he had texted you something terrifying.

Terzo lived fast and hard. Lover after lover, but no such thing as love. “I do not feel love, only lust,” he had told you once after you had confessed you loved him. You spent nights together, but never days. And sometimes, your nights were left empty as he took another woman to his chambers.

But lately, there were no other women. No other lovers. Just you.

“I love you, Tesoro,” the message read.