Novels by Strawberry 🍓

Her Pov:The basement.. Leading to the hell itself. The basement where I first saw Edward killing a man! Why... Why is he taking me to there. What is he planning to do with me! Oh god! I can't even look at his face as he is giving me his back. My struggles turn frantic as I try to pull, push, claw at his back—punching, hitting, doing anything my shaking body can manage—but nothing stops him. He drags me toward the basement door as if I weigh nothing. When he opens it, the cold air spills out first, and the sight of the stairs leading down that hallway hits me like a punch. I know what waits there. I know too well.I latch onto the handrail with my free hand as if my life depends on it—because it does. My breath shudders as I look at Edward with pure horror. His back is to me for a second, but when he turns, his eyes… God. They turn void. Emotionless. Empty in a way that shouldn’t be human. The grey looks almost dead—so hollow they hold no life, no mercy, nothing.His face is carved w

Her Pov:He’s going to kill me.The thought slams into my chest so hard I almost choke on it. My vision blurs as an unexpected urge to cry rushes up my throat, desperate and childish—as if tears could save me. Every instinct in me screams to run, to hide, to vanish before he decides I’m not worth the effort. Cold fear crawls beneath my skin like ants made of ice, prickling every nerve. Goosebumps rise on my arms, my heartbeat hammering against my ribs so violently it hurts. Edward’s gaze—sharp, penetrating, downright murderous—locks onto me, and my hands begin to tremble uncontrollably. I can feel sweat gathering along my hairline despite the chill in the room, a betraying sheen of panic I can’t wipe away.For a single, agonizing heartbeat, he studies me. Consumes me. Strips me bare without lifting a finger.Then—he looks away.He pulls out his phone, eyes dropping to the screen as though I am no longer worth his attention, no longer the target he’s about to devour. And that tiny mot

Her Pov:"After all... I'm not you."The words slip out like a prayer. Or maybe a curse.Either way, I know he hears them. Very slowly, he turns around as his cold gaze falls on me. “You are not me.” He repeats it slowly, each word falling heavier than the last as he stalks toward me with that quiet, deliberate stride that always makes my pulse stutter. Saying my breathing hitched would be an understatement. It doesn’t matter how hard I pretend to be brave—every time he closes in on me, every time his cold, dissecting gaze traps mine, something inside me curls in on itself.And now, with Rafael’s card hidden under my bra, the fear claws deeper, twisting painfully in my chest.He steps into my space until the air feels too tight to inhale. Towering over me, he studies my face with that unsettling patience of his, his gaze moving slowly, intentionally, like he’s peeling back every layer I have. His wildflower scent surrounds me, betraying how close he is, but the heat of his stare bur

Her Pov:Edward—half-hidden in the dim glow of the hallway, his expression unreadable, but his presence impossible to ignore. His eyes, cold and unrelenting, found mine in an instant, locking me in place as though the air between us had thickened. It didn’t matter how far apart we were or how many people moved through the space between us—when he looked at me like that, it was as if nothing and no one else existed.There was no warmth in his stare, only control—like he was reminding me, without a single word, that he still held the reins. I tried to appear unaffected, to hold his gaze without flinching, but deep down, I could feel it—that familiar pull, like an invisible chain tightening around my ribs. No matter how far I ran or how hard I tried to untangle myself, he always found a way to draw me back in.I turn away, finishing the last sip of my drink, its bitter aftertaste clinging to my tongue like the weight of everything I’m about to do. I need to breathe. I need space. Most

Her Pov:The game has already begun.I feel it in the air-heavy with unsaid threats and unshed blood. The kind of silence that precedes storms, the kind that hides sharp teeth behind glass smiles. I stand quietly, drink in hand, letting my eyes drift across the room, not to admire, but to hunt.If I want to break free of Edward, I'll need more than courage.I'll need power.And not just any power. I'll need someone who can rattle him-someone who can force the devil to look twice.Not many men have ever managed that. But I know that if I want even a sliver of control, I'll need to find the one who can stand tall in Edward's shadow and not flinch.I sip from my glass, letting the burn settle in my throat as I scan the room.And then-"Funny... I find you alone again."The voice coils behind me, smooth and deliberate. I turn with measured ease, eyes meeting Rafael Morozgov's.Of course.He leans against the bar like he belongs everywhere and nowhere at once. The kind of man who doesn't c

Her Pov:He walks away, expecting me to trail after him—but I don’t move. His game, his rules? Not anymore. He can keep thinking he’s in control, but I’m done playing along. This time, I’m setting the rules—and he won’t see me coming.I returned to the hall, my heels echoing against the marble floor as I made my way back to the bar—the same place I stood before everything started to unravel.I order a drink, not because I need it, but because I need something to ground me. Something to keep my hands busy as I turn around and lean against the counter, my eyes sweeping over the room.The atmosphere is thick—oppressive, electric. Power hums through the air like a storm waiting to break. The people here aren't just rich or well-dressed—they're dangerous. You can see it in their posture, feel it in their eyes.Every single one of them is the kind of person you don’t look at twice if you want to keep breathing. Their presence doesn’t just command respect—it demands fear. You don’t even nee

Her Pov:I freshen up and change into a beige mid-length frock that moulds to my breasts, cinches tight at my waist, and flares at the bottom. Just a normal beige frock.But it looks… too revealing. As if I’m trying too hard. As if I want to be seen.To be seen by him.Do I?Why am I putting effort into how I look? Why am I overthinking a dress when he has already seen me in my worst states—vomiting, hallucinating, crying so hard I couldn’t even form words? He has seen the raw, ugly, unfiltered parts of me. So why does this feel different?I look into the mirror.My ice-blue eyes stare back at me.I look… flushed.I look different.Just like he said.Happy, maybe? Peaceful? I don’t even know what to call it. But something in my reflection has shifted. Something softer. Something warmer. Something that doesn’t look like it’s constantly bracing for impact.I take a comb and start running it through my hair, slow, distracted strokes, still watching myself. My eyes look more… alive. My br

Her Pov:Warm light falls across my face, gentle and golden, and a strange calm spreads through my chest. It feels almost unreal—I can’t even remember the last time I felt anything close to this peace. Maybe never. For a while, I just lie there, smiling to myself, the memory of last night sweep through me. “I choose you,” he had said. The words still thrum through me like a heartbeat, making my pulse race even now, yet somehow the peace lingers inside me too.“Beautiful.”The low, breathy murmur slices through my rosy haze, startling me awake. My eyes snap open, and I jolt upright, my heart stumbling hard against my ribs. He’s there—sitting opposite the bed, dressed in black from head to toe. A hoodie and trousers, so simple, and yet on him… it looks majestic, almost regal.The sunlight streams across the room and catches his face, softening the sharp edges and turning his hazel eyes to liquid gold. He looks less like a man and more like something otherworldly, a creature carved from

His Pov: She is asleep before I finish the words. My little mischief. My undoing. Her head rests against my shoulder, the silk of her hair brushing my jaw with every uneven breath. She clings even in sleep, her hand still curled inside mine, as if she thinks I would vanish the moment she lets go. But I don’t vanish. I can’t. I’ve built empires out of blood and steel, carved out loyalty with terror and fire. I’ve never once flinched from the weight of power or the filth of the crown I wear. Yet here she is, breaking me with nothing but a sigh against my throat. I close my eyes and inhale her scent deeply—roses, soft and intoxicating—as if I can anchor myself in it, as if I can force my mind to believe this is real. She’s real. We’re real. I was scared. No—scared is too weak a word. I was terrified. Terrified that she would choose her freedom over me. That she would slip through my fingers the way she’s always wanted to, the way she’s dreamed of since the day I chained her fate

Her Pov:The sun sinks lower over the Seine, casting molten gold across the water, painting the ripples with liquid fire. The city hums around us—soft laughter from distant lovers drifting through the air, the rhythmic lapping of waves against the stone embankment, the whisper of the wind as it tangles through my dress.Paris feels like a dream, weightless and unreal, but Leonardo beside me is more vivid than anything else.He moves with his usual silent grace, his presence coiled and restrained, like a predator choosing patience over pursuit. The evening glow sharpens the angles of his face and deepens the shadows beneath his cheekbones, making him look like something sculpted from darkness itself. He is breathtaking, but never soft—never safe.A sudden gust of wind sweeps in, lifting the hem of my dress, sending a shiver dancing up my spine. Before I can react, warmth engulfs me. Leonardo moves with a quiet swiftness that steals the breath from my lungs, pressing against my back, h

Her Pov:I swallow hard, looking away from him for a second, trying to gather my thoughts. “Is that it?” I finally ask, my voice barely a whisper. The question lingers, hanging between us, almost absurd in its simplicity.“No,” he says softly, his voice barely louder than the river’s murmur. “There’s more to be freed than just the fish.”I glance up at him, but his expression remains unreadable, as always. But something in the way he looks at me makes my breath hitch, like he’s seeing through every wall I’ve built.He steps closer, and I feel the heat of his presence before I even see him fully. The air between us thickens as though the world is holding its breath. I want to speak, to ask him everything, but my throat tightens, the words sticking in my chest. I stand there, frozen in place, as his gaze holds me captive, just as much as he claims to have done to the fish."They’re just like me..." he whispers, the words soft but piercing, making my chest tighten. His eyes are intense,

Her Pov:Paris stretches endlessly beyond the car window, a blur of elegant streets and towering architecture, but none of it holds my attention. All I see is him—Leonardo, sitting beside me in the backseat, his presence heavy, commanding. He hasn’t spoken much since we left, and I can’t tell if the silence between us is suffocating or intoxicating. Maybe both. His fingers tap lightly against his knee, his eyes staring straight ahead, but I know he’s aware of every movement I make. Every breath.The ride stretches on for hours, the city fading into quieter roads, then almost nothingness. I shift uncomfortably, feeling the slight ache still lingering in my body, a reminder of last night—of him.Heat curls under my skin at the memory, but I push it away. He hasn’t looked at me the same way since this morning, and I hate how that unsettles me. Like I’m standing on uneven ground, waiting for him to either pull me in or push me away.His two men sit in the front, quiet as ever, focused on