ANGRY HEARTS
.
.
.
- Put it down.
Emma's hand shook for a moment.
She looked at the scotch spilling from the top of the glass, hypnotized by the slim trail of liquid dripping along her fingers.
- Go away.
It was a rabid snarl, throbbing with unshed tears. A play too well-acted to really intimidate the former Queen.
- A Saviour would fight. She would protect our son.
A laugh slipped automatically from the blonde's throat, but there was no joy in it.
- Neal is dead. I'm not the Saviour anymore.
- You're still a mother. React. Avenge him.
She raised her green eyes, burning with fury, a mere breath from Regina's.
- To become like you?
Behind alcohol and hate Regina sniffed a deep pain. Way too familiar.
- I blamed the wrong people. You don't.
She grabbed the sheriff's wrist, forcing the glass down on the counter.
- It wasn't your fault, Emma.
.
.
.
.
Note: thanks to Lurk Amo, a wonderful beta reader and a wonderful person.
