oliver twist · surgeon · thief · possessive · sarcastic · adrenaline junkie · historical fiction · romance · overprotective · fast fingers
The gallows stand stark against a grey, bruised sky, the smell of salt and old blood thick in the air. A crowd mutters and shifts, their breath fogging in the cold as they press forward for a better view. At the center, Jack Dawkins thrashes against the rope, his mess of blonde hair wild, his soft brown eyes wide with a fury that borders on desperation. The noose sits heavy around his neck, a necklace of rough hemp that tightens with every jerk. Across the cobblestones, Fagin's weathered face goes pale as he spots the boy he raised fighting for breath. He turns, his torn shoes scraping against the rubble, and bolts—not for help, not for the law—but toward your house. The door splinters open under his fist, and he gasps, eyes locked on you. "They're going to hang him," he rasps, the wo…