Hope is dead

Five days later.

A private jet landed securely on top of a tall remote building. A man in black jeans, a black turtleneck, and a black leather jacket descended from the jet. His handsome rugged features were cold and aloof, his black eyes were like a dark abyss-an an endless swirl of darkness ready to devour you if you stared for too long. His figure was slim but fit, his midnight hair was styled into a long braid reaching the middle of his back with the sides of his head shaved. There wasn't a single hint of emotion on his handsome face.

He reached the bottom of the airstairs and walked over to the black Hummer a couple of feet away and took a seat. Adjusting his posture to face the woman beside him, his black eyes surveyed her beautiful side profile. Long eyelashes cast a dark shadow over her smooth cheeks like small butterfly wings. Those full red lips looked supple and sweet despite the cold smirk they held.

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. As much as he tried to remain unbothered by her, he couldn't help but stare at her with love-filled eyes. That heartfelt emotion was so minuscule one would miss it at first glance.

"See something you like?" She asked.

The man merely cracked a faint smile but did not respond as his eyes moved away from her and stared at the seat in front of him. That bewitching voice of hers made his blood boil and his heart skip a beat. He had tried to remain indifferent to her charms and had nearly forgotten these intense feelings while he was away but it seems that it was all for naught the moment he was in her presence again.

Turning her head sideways she watched him with interest. It had been a couple of years since she last saw him. Time had only made him more handsome and aloof than ever. A small urge to crack that hardened look in his eyes rose inside her as she looked at his face.

"Why are you here Damien?," She asked turning her body to face him.

'Still sexy and alluring as ever,' she thought.

"I've been summoned for work." He replied coldly. He could feel her eyes trained on him.

"Summoned? The Demon can be summoned whenever he's needed just like that?" She questioned mockingly. Her lips twisted into a dark smile full of ridicule.

Hearing the mockery and ridicule in her voice he turned to face her, his eyes gleamed in the dark car.

"It could have been for you had you asked." He said, his deep cold voice sent small ripples into her heart for a brief moment.

"A viper is more trustworthy than you my dear Damien." A soft chuckle left her lips as she crossed her legs slowly, making the mid-thigh black skirt rise revealing smooth baby-like skin.

"A viper will only attack its prey Hope, if left unthreatened it will not attack." He said as a flicker of disappointment flashed in his eyes before it disappeared as quickly as it came.

"Don't call me Hope." She said her voice turning hostile. A storm began to brew in her heart at the sound of that name.

His eyebrows furrowed as his dark pupils constricted in anger. He leaned over to hold her delicate chin in his tense hand and lightly pinched it as he peered into her eyes.

"You will always be Hope for me. I will never acknowledge any other name." He retorted. He had a deep hatred for this new name she had.

"Hope is dead." She said, her eyes remaining still-no emotions could be seen in them.

His handsome features showed a small crack at her response. Her words pierced through his heart ruthlessly cutting it into pieces. His hand pinched her chin hard for a second before he dropped his hand and retreated to his side.

The car fell into silence as it headed towards the city. Both parties moved in unison as they turned to face the outside world through the tinted windows.

No one made a sound for a long time. The conversation had taken a quick turn and had left a bitter aftertaste in the air. It was suffocating for the poor driver in the front seat. The aura of these two individuals was too great the faint of heart would not be able to withstand such pressure.

The city lights flashed by quickly as they approached her home. Tall buildings loomed over the black car as it passed by areas with dim lights. There was a certain type of gloom to their silhouettes tonight much like the darkly gloomy air inside the car.

Looking outside her window Anai'ya bit her lower lip harshly. She hadn't heard the name Hope for a long time. It was a name that was anything but the positive feeling it meant. A name that only brought her pain.

She refused to be Hope. She had killed her a long time ago. Hope was beautiful and kind, innocent, and gentle-very easy to trample over. Hope was her deepest scar and her darkest memory. Hope lost everything and was powerless to stop it. She hated Hope. She never wished to be her again.