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ᴇᴄʜᴏᴇs ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀsᴛ

There were very, very little people who had his phone number. Even less who would be bold enough to call him. He stared at the three missed calls, a deep frown doing little to mask the anger brewing inside at the name on his screen. Eleanora.

Shortly after the unanswered calls, a new notification appeared. A message this time. Not that it did shit to tone down his mood. Gritting his teeth he opened the damned message, already knowing he would fucking hate every single word of it.

Grayson's memorial will be held at the Cathedral. You're not invited, neither is Luca. Do with this information what you will.

Rule snorted, already typing a hearty 'fuck you' when a second text from Nelly appeared. This time it was an image, the invitation for the memorial, her invitation. Not his, obviously. What the hell was she plotting? Nothing good, it could never be anything but pure selfishness when it came to Nelly. Eleanora Knight didn't have a single altruistic bone in her body.

Rule needed to be prepared. She knew he'd show up, and fuck if he was letting anyone else getting the upper hand on his next move.

Annoyed with the way he was somehow playing their own sick game, Rule fired a quick text to his mentor, knowing he was most likely already in the loop of the last events concerning his brother's memorial.

RSPV +1

Tossing his phone to the bed he groaned loudly. The closer the date got, the more fucked up he felt. Needing to do something about the pure rage flowing through his veins he went into his studio, a new canvas already in place waiting for him to create some twisted piece of art out of it. One more he would most likely never show the world.