Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

taking the place of violence.
My mind travels to the poem I once left for Elena, a promise and threat
rolled into one.
I just hadn’t known it at the time.
‘Dis, almost in a moment, saw her, prized her, took her: so swift as this,
is love.’
The Rape of Proserpine.
Not love, but something far more sinister and deadly, in this case.
I think about the picture burning a hole through my wallet—brown eyes
just like mine, the long black French braids. An ache flares in my chest at the
thought of her, reaffirming my decision as I’m reminded of the who behind it.
If I want a single shot at a relationship with my long-lost sister, this is the
only way.
Meeting Rafe’s gaze, I raise my eyebrows. “Elena’s soul.”