Sophie Dash - To Wed A Rebel

She was a practical woman, yes, she would be fine – he needn’t worry – this wasn’t his fault. Women like her were survivors, weren’t they? Like he’d had to be.

Isaac moved automatically and without thinking. He grabbed his meagre possessions, all stowed in a satchel across his shoulder. The morning sun was already on the thin, poorly made windows, mottled with grit. He had never been here for the end result, to witness what happened afterwards to those whose fortunes he’d sabotaged. It hadn’t ever been like this before; the others had been different. They’d deserved it – or he’d told himself that to soothe what little conscience he had left.

“Mr Roscoe.” She said his name like a curse, a promise. It forced him to halt in the doorway. He would hear her; he owed her that much. “I never thought I had it in me to hate anyone,” said Ruth coldly, as she pulled herself up onto her feet, hardly strong enough to stand. “Not until this very day, this moment.”

Isaac nodded, his back to her, unwilling to face his sins. He was set on forgetting her, and all he had done, as soon as he stepped from the room and left that rotten city – a city capable of corrupting even the best of men. But fate had a different plan.

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