The Blind Angel Turns Out To Be A Sweet Demoness

Once Vera clocked out and came to pick Lindsay up, Lindsay had already buried every trace of emotion beneath a calm mask.

Lindsay settled into the passenger seat. She kept the window down, the rush of air scraping at her cheeks while her thoughts twisted and tangled inside her chest.

"Vera, let's hit a bar tonight," Lindsay abruptly suggested.

The car jerked, tires scraping along the edge of the curb.

Vera quickly steadied the car, regaining her composure. "Hitting a bar? Is everything okay?"

Lindsay turned her empty gaze to her friend. "Vera, do you also think that without my sight, I cannot be the Lindsay I used to be?"

Vera's chest tightened. Only three years had slipped by, yet sometimes, it felt impossible to remember the Lindsay from before.

Before, Lindsay had sparkled with energy. She had never shied away from anything, always living with her heart wide open. But that fearless woman had vanished the night of the fire.

The past three years had witnessed Lindsay withdraw into a shadow of her former self. She had retreated into a world revolving around Matthew, clinging to him as if he were the only thing left.

Vera sometimes wondered if Lindsay could keep breathing if Matthew ever left her side.

Sensing Vera's hesitation, Lindsay turned back toward the window. The wind whipped across her skin, and for just a second, she almost believed she could see everything rushing by outside.

Lindsay said slowly, "I visited Louis earlier. For three years, I couldn't bring myself to visit him, and now everything inside me feels scraped raw. I need something strong to take the edge off. People say a drink can quiet the things that hurt, right? And I want to start learning how to move through the world again. When we get to the bar, don't hover over me like I can't stand on my own."

Lindsay's tone carried a strange sense of acceptance, as if she had already made peace with the weight she'd been carrying.

Something about Lindsay felt different to Vera. She couldn't name it, but she wished with all her heart that Lindsay would finally step beyond her little world and reclaim the life waiting for her.

Vera replied, "Then we're going all out tonight until we can't stand anymore!"

Star Club pulsed with energy near the university. Youngsters filled every corner, and the place kept things polished without letting chaos slip in.

That bar had once been frequented by Vera and Lindsay. Not a single detail had changed since those days.

The two of them slid into a booth tucked away in the corner.

Music and alcohol surged through the room, waking up pieces of people they thought were gone forever.

Lindsay's face slowly gained more color. After downing a few fruit cocktails, she rose from her seat and said, "Restroom."

Vera made a move to follow, but Lindsay waved her off.

The restroom was down a straight hall at the end, a route Lindsay could walk even without her cane.

A while later, Lindsay finished washing her hands when Kyra's voice drifted in from outside the door. "Why drag me to this dump to relive old times? This place is crawling with college kids."

A jolt shot through Lindsay. As footsteps echoed down the hall, in blind panic, she darted across to the other side and crashed through the door marked for men's restroom.

She flung the door shut behind her, only to stumble into the broad warmth of someone's chest. Raising a trembling finger to her lips, she silently begged for quiet.

Sandalwood lingered in the air, soothing her nerves even as her mind scrambled.

"Anthony, is that you?" she whispered.

Just then, Matthew's voice came from just beyond the door. "Kyra, stay at the entrance when we're finished. Don't go wandering off."

This sent a new rush of fear through Lindsay. Instinct took over, and she grabbed the man in front of her, hauling him into the nearest stall with her.

Inside the cramped stall, their bodies pressed close. Desperate to keep him silent, she clapped a hand over his mouth, tiptoed, and whispered right by his ear, "Please. Not a word."

Anthony had more than a few drinks in him. The steady, measured control he kept at work started slipping away. With Lindsay so close, something electric stirred beneath his skin.

Without thinking, he pulled her close, his arm circling her waist. Shadows played across her face, and in that uncertain light, her eyes sparked with a wild blend of fear and defiance.

Anthony dipped his head. Lindsay instinctively shrank back, not daring to make any noise that might give them away.

As her hand brushed his chest, she felt muscles tense beneath her palm. In her attempt to dodge him, her lips brushed his Adam's apple by accident.

A sharp breath escaped him, rough around the edges.

With every passing second inside the cramped stall, her nerves stretched thin. Her brow knotted, and she shot him a warning in a low, urgent whisper. "Anthony, don't mess around!"

He drank in her distress, an almost playful glint in his eyes as he drew her even nearer. "You're hiding out in here while your husband's mistress is waiting outside? Or are you under orders from Matthew to cozy up to me?"

The memory of the detective's report flashed through Anthony's mind, darkening his gaze. His fingers found her neck, sweeping her hair aside until the red crescent birthmark stood out against her skin. That shape matched the memory etched in his mind. He couldn't deny it now. Lindsay was truly the little girl who had saved him years ago.