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Summary
What if Vex hadn’t seen Mark in his vision when the Oracles were trying to gather his truth? What if he’s more of a masochist he ever thought he was? That stormy day, in the cellar, for a split second he thought he was about to die; the wolf’s scowl looked scarier than usual and that meant only one thing: bad news for him. And when Dyson grabbed him by the collar he was sure he was going to die; to be honest the cop had played it too good for too long and he wasn’t surprised if he had decided in that very moment that he had enough of him. Not that Vex could blame him, but his ego was a little hurt, he’d always thought of his death as a spectacular departure from the stage – go big or go home, to make it short – and dying in a dusty winery of an old bar with sticky floors wasn’t exactly what he had in mind.
But then Dyson had crushed his lips on his, and before he could even understand what the hell was going on he was kissing the man that wanted him dead the most. Right there, in that moment, Vex thought he was going to die for all other reasons.