"Joshua, whatever it is, we can talk it over."
Grace Roe just thought that maybe this girl named Avery Jane really intrigued her son, or perhaps men simply favored beautiful women, a little fascinated by novelty.
But now it seemed far from simple. Over the years, it was the first time she saw such tenderness in her son's eyes.
She always felt Joshua Hughes was an everlasting icy mountain, cold and unyielding, impossible to melt.
Yet when he looked at that girl, his eyes were like a pool of passionate waters, shimmering invitingly; if he weren't her son, even she might be captivated by such an allure.
"This isn't the place you should come to. I've given way; don't take a mile when given an inch."
Joshua didn't even glance at his mother, stepping forward.
He pulled Avery Jane's hair aside, revealing several wounds with traces of blood, as if marked by a beast. Against the backdrop of her pale, smooth skin, they appeared all the more horrifying.
