Elara Wynn

That night, the silver light of the moon shimmered faintly on the car windows, casting layered shadows inside the small, enclosed cabin. My breath was ragged, my body covered in a warm sheen of sweat. Every breath I took felt deep, heavy… and meaningless.

I cried, I begged, but nothing stopped him. Nothing made him stop. My fingers pressed hard against his body, scratching his strong back and shoulders in frustration, leaving faint red marks—but he didn’t care. Only that low, ...