My Beloved Has Risen from Death’s Embrace
CHAPTER 445

Chapter 445 

She must’ve been angry because he missed their appointment 

He wanted to explain, to apologize, to beg for her forgiveness, but every time he tried to approach her, she’d dart away like he was the plague, as if he still bore that ghastly, horrific bum scar on his face. 

In the small grove, Xanthea was once again startled by Jeffrey’s fake snake, crouching on the ground, hugging her knees, and crying in 

fear 

From a distance, Orion spotted her figure and rushed over, only to be stopped by Matthew who was outside the grove. 

“Orion, stop bothering Xan!” 

“Xan really dislikes you!” 

The word “dislike” hit him like a ton of bricks, and the cold, gloomy light that burst from the boy’s dark pupils seemed deadly, making Matthew’s legs go weak, forcing him to step back. 

“Get lost!” 

Orion pushed him aside, and as Matthew fell to the ground, he watched Orion’s retreating back with resentment. He really was just like the news says, a little devil! 

“Xannie!” 

Getting closer, Orion heard her sobs and felt a wave of panic. 

He wanted to comfort her, to find out who had bullied her because he would never let them get away with it! 

But before his hand could touch her he heard her cry from between her knees, “Why won’t you just leave?” 

“Go away, just go!” 

“I hate you the most, I really, really do!” 

“Don’t come near me ever again, I will never like you, never want to see you again!* 

Her words, each like a dagger dipped in poison, stabbed him deeply in the heart. 

Orion’s lips turned pale, drained of any color, and the words stuck in his throat were bitter and hoarse. His heart felt as if it was being tom apart, bleeding, and the pain was nearly suffocating. 

He reached out to touch her but slowly retracted his hand. 

The rain poured down in torrents, the sky a blanket of grey, the entire city shrouded in a somber mist. The rain drenched the boy’s clothes and drowned his subdued whimpers, like an abandoned little creature, lost and unable to find home. 

He had killed someone, his hands stained with blood, and scared Xannie. 

Xannie didn’t remember him, Xannie hated him. 

He had made his little angel cry. 

From then on, he dared not approach her. He hid in the shadows, like a bug in a damp gutter, secretly watching her light form afar. He watched her move up in school, graduate, stand on various stages, develop different interests, and make more and more friends. As time passed, she grew up, and his feelings for her gradually transformed. 

From worshipping the devout, supreme angel to something darker, a desire to defile, to possess, to do all sorts of reckless things to 

her. 

In the prime of his burgeoning desires, he held photo after photo of her, imagining her radiant beauty, her smile bright as light In countless lonely, sleepless nights, he was tormented by his overwhelming love and yearning, feeling a unique, intense pleasure. 

He loved his Xannie so much, yeamed to possess her, to have her. 

But the person standing by her side was no longer him. He wanted to kill Matthew, but Xannie would hate him for that. 

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