Where Petals of Vengeance Bloom

Chapter 312

If winter comes, he'll never make it.

Watching him, Claire couldn't help but think of herself.

She gave a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. Her own life was a mess, and yet here she was, finding room to feel sorry for someone else.

But maybe that was exactly why-she'd stumbled through her own darkness, been battered by life's storms. She understood what pain felt like. And because of that, she wanted, more than anything, to shield others from the rain, if only for a moment.

Claire turned, stepping into a nearby convenience store. She bought a loaf of bread and a bottle of water, then walked back to the man.

Her voice was gentle. "That roll's gone moldy-you'll get sick if you eat it. Here, take these instead."

Claire held out the bag. Inside were the bread, the water, and some money.

She'd kept just enough cash for the bus fare-ten dollars, no more. Every remaining bill she'd tucked inside the bag for him.

At the sound of her voice, the man's frantic, hungry movements stopped cold. He froze, as if struck by lightning.

He sat there on the ground, hair falling over his face, and behind those tangled strands his eyes were wild with fear, shame, and helpless confusion.

Claire bent down, her gaze soft, and spoke to him again, even more quietly. "Go on. Take it."

But it was as if he hadn't heard her-he didn't move. In fact, his body seemed to tremble.

he'd been bullied so often that even a stranger's approach scared

softened her tone further. "Don't be

she reached to take the moldy roll

Something twisted inside him. Without warning, tears spilled

fat tear dropped onto the back of Claire's

froze, heart aching for

must have gone so long without kindness, she thought. To him, a single act of compassion from

tossed it in the trash. Then she pressed the bread, water, and money into his

wanted to say something

lingering look at the man before

the bus pulled away, the man at the curb finally found the courage to lift his head, revealing

It was Vincent Lewis.

night, broken and bleeding, Vincent had

acting on orders from Sean Foster, who'd

Vincent's legs were already mangled beyond repair-bones shattered, flesh

orders, amputation was

was wheeled out of surgery, both

off, and he awoke

were gone, the weight of despair nearly crushed

had no money for the hospital bills. They kept him for a