Novels by Brun-Hilda writes

Daisy's POV**I stared at my phone, hands shaking so badly I nearly dropped it."I know who you are, Daisy Macklin. And I'm coming for you."The voice had been distorted, mechanical. But the threat was real. Very real.I should call my father. Should call the police. Should do something other than stand frozen in my living room like an idiot.Instead, I called Killian.He answered on the first ring. "Miss me already?""Someone just called me." My voice cracked. "They said they know who I am. That they're coming for me."Silence. Then his tone shifted completely—no more teasing, just cold efficiency. "Did you recognize the voice?""No. It was distorted. Mechanical.""What number did they call from?"I checked my recent calls. "Unknown.""Fuck. Okay, listen to me carefully. Lock your door. All the locks. Don't open it for anyone except me. I'm coming over right now.""You just left—""I'm in the parking garage. I'll be there in two minutes. Stay on the phone with me."I rushed to the do

Daisy's POV**I couldn't write.Three hours of staring at a blank screen, and all I had was one pathetic sentence that made no sense. My editor was going to kill me. The manuscript was due in three days, and I had nothing.Because I couldn't stop thinking about him.The neighbor. The asshole with the coffee and the smirk who'd watched me fall apart.I grabbed my phone, checking for the hundredth time that I'd blocked both his numbers. I had. But part of me—the stupid, desperate part—kept waiting for another text.My phone rang. Dad.I answered reluctantly. "Hi, Dad.""Daisy." His voice was clipped, military-sharp. "I need to discuss your safety."My stomach dropped. "What happened?""Your sister was attacked last week. Two men in masks outside her apartment in D.C. They knew who she was. They targeted her because of me.""Is Emily okay?""Physically, yes. But this means you're all vulnerable. I'm hiring personal security for you.""What? No. Dad, nobody even knows I'm your daughter—"

Killian's POV** I shouldn't have texted her. But I couldn’t get the scene of my mind. I wanted the embarrassment of knowing someone just saw you touching yourself burn itself into her mind until she couldn’t think about anything else. I leaned against my kitchen counter, phone in one hand, cold coffee in the other. The apartment felt too quiet now that Mandy had left. She'd been pissed when I told her to go, muttering something about me being distracted lately. She wasn't wrong. My phone buzzed. **Daisy: Who is this?** I smirked. She'd taken longer to respond than I expected. Most women would've texted back immediately—either furious or flirting. But the woman across the street wasn't like most women. I'd noticed that the day she moved in was three months ago. **Me: Your neighbor. The one you were thinking about five minutes ago. And five hours ago. And probably right now.** I hit send and waited. The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again. She was typing. Deleti

Daisy's POV** I was reading *Priest* when it started. The main character was on her knees in the kitchen, nipples visible through her damp t-shirt, thighs pressed together. She was seconds away from throwing herself at him. I was three chapters from finding out if she actually would. Then I heard it. "Oh God!" The moan came through the walls—raw, uninvited, shameless. I dropped the book. My neighbor was at it again. I should have ignored it. Should have put in earbuds or turned on music or done literally anything except what I did next. But my body moved before my brain caught up, carrying me toward the living room window like I was being pulled by an invisible string. The blinds were already parted, giving me a view of the rising sun over Manhattan. And the apartment directly across from mine. "Just like that," his voice came next. Deep. Commanding. "Fucking hell, Mandy!" Heat flooded through me so fast I had to grip the windowsill to steady myself. I was standing there in