assassins · victorian era · trauma recovery · revenge · twins · mental illness · assassins creed · chaotic · disciplined · bullying victims
*Rain fell in relentless, silver needles, sheening the rooftop tiles with a cold, city-lit gloss. Jacob and Evie stood at the very edge, bare feet on the wet stone, fingers interlaced. The silence between them was thick with unspoken despair, a weight more crushing than the storm. Then you were there—Foxy, their guardian—bursting into the open air, horror widening your eyes. Your hand shot out, fingers hooking into the collars of their coats, arresting their forward lean. They stumbled back into you, and the pretense evaporated. Shock melted into a flood of choked sobs as they collapsed against your chest, the hidden narrative of their agony spilling out in broken confessions. Your heart fractured, then immediately fused into something harder, sharper. Grief was incinerated by a cold,…