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CHAPTER 34 — THE DAY THE WAR ENDED
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29.01.2026 04:01:51
Aktuellstes Kapitel
A Sinful Devotion CHÀPTER 35— Where We Finally Rest
The morning light comes gently here.Rafe notices it first.It slips through the thin curtains in pale gold ribbons, warming the wooden floor, touching the edge of the bed like it’s asking permission. Nothing crashes. Nothing burns. No alarms in his head. Just quiet.He lies still for a moment, listening.Birds.Wind moving through trees.The slow, steady breathing beside him.Nicholas Rhodes—once feared by half the city, once carved from ice and blood—is asleep on his stomach, one arm flung across Rafe’s waist like an anchor. His hair is mussed, softer than Rafe ever thought possible, a faint crease between his brows that never fully disappears even in rest.Rafe smiles.He turns carefully, slow enough not to wake him, and studies the rise and fall of Nick’s back. The scar on his abdomen peeks from beneath the sheet—faded now, healed but permanent. A reminder of how close everything came to ending.Rafe leans forward and presses a kiss there anyway. Gentle. Reverent.Nick stirs. A lo
A Sinful Devotion CHAPTER 34 — THE DAY THE WAR ENDED
Rafe The café feels almost normal again. That’s the most dangerous thing about it. The sun pours through the front windows, warm and forgiving, dust motes floating like nothing bad has ever happened in this city. The bell over the door chimes lazily when customers come and go. Cups clink. Someone laughs. I’m behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, fingers steady as I wipe down a table. For the first time in weeks, my chest isn’t tight. For the first time since my memory came back, I’m not waiting for blood. Nick sits in the corner booth with his jacket draped over the seat beside him, sleeves pushed back, dark hair falling into his eyes as he pretends—badly—to read the same page of the newspaper for the tenth time. He’s watching the door. He’s always watching the door. I bring him his coffee without asking. Black. No sugar. He looks up when I set it down, and for a second, that sharp, dangerous man I once followed into hell softens into something almost gentle. “You’re smil
A Sinful Devotion CHAPTER 33— WHEN GHOSTS PICK UP GUNS
NicholasI always knew this day would come.The day Rafe stopped being a memory and became a weapon again.It starts with silence.Not the peaceful kind—the kind that presses against your ears until you know something is watching you breathe.Rafe stands at the window of my penthouse, the city laid bare beneath him like a map of sins I’ve already committed. He’s changed since last night. Not in the obvious ways—his body is still lean, scarred, familiar—but there’s a stillness in him now.The stillness of a man who remembers how to kill.“You’re thinking too loudly,” he says without turning around.I almost smile.“You always hated when I paced.”“I hated when you planned without me.”There it is.The line we crossed.I step closer. “You don’t have to do this.”He finally turns.His eyes—God—his eyes are fully awake now. No fog. No softness. Just fire banked under control.“I already did,” he replies. “The moment I remembered your blood on my hands.”My jaw tightens.“That wasn’t your
A Sinful Devotion CHAPTER 32 — THE MEMORY THAT BLEEDS (PART TWO)
Rafe The dream doesn’t come gently. It never does. It rips. I’m back in that warehouse—concrete sweating, lights flickering like they’re afraid to stay on. My wrists burn from the rope. Blood trickles down my temple, warm and slow, like time itself mocking me. Damien crouches in front of me. Smiling. “You always were loyal to the wrong man,” he says. I spit blood at his shoes. “I chose him.” That’s when he laughs. And everything fractures. THE NIGHT I DIED I remember now. All of it. Not pieces. Not echoes. Everything. They didn’t just capture me. They hunted me. Because Nicholas Rhodes was untouchable—surrounded by walls, guards, money, myth. So they came for the one thing he loved enough to bleed for. Me. Damien leaned close that night, voice soft, intimate. “Kill Nicholas. Walk away clean. Or we take our time with you. And then we kill him anyway.” I didn’t hesitate. I laughed. “You don’t understand,” I told him. “If you touch him, the world ends.” He though
A Sinful Devotion CHAPTER 32— THE MEMORY THAT BLEEDS (PART
Rafe I don’t wake up anymore. I surface. Like something buried underwater that refuses to stay dead. The dream is already waiting for me when my eyes open. Same night. Same gun. Same scream lodged in my throat. But this time, the details are sharper—crueler. The warehouse smells like oil and rust and old blood. My wrists burn where the rope cuts too deep. My heartbeat is loud enough that I’m sure they can hear it, mocking me with every second I’m still alive. Damien’s voice echoes again. Not shouting. Never shouting. He didn’t need to. “You could’ve walked away,” he’d said, crouching in front of me like we were having a private conversation. “But you stayed loyal. That’s always been your problem.” I gasp and sit up. My hands are shaking. The room is quiet. Safe. Warm. Nicholas’s penthouse. But my body doesn’t believe it. Nicholas I hear him before I see him. The sharp inhale. The stuttered breath. I’m already moving. Rafe is sitting upright in bed, eyes unfocu
A Sinful Devotion CHAPTER 31 — THE NIGHT THAT REFUSES TO DIE (PART TWO)
Rafe wakes screaming.Not loud.Not dramatic.Just one sharp sound ripped from his throat like his body can’t contain it.Nicholas is on his feet before the echo fades.“Rafe.”Hands. Steady. Familiar. He grips Rafe’s shoulders, grounding him, keeping him from folding into himself.Rafe’s eyes are wild.Focused on something that isn’t here.“He said your name,” Rafe gasps. “He kept saying your name like it was a joke.”Nicholas goes still.My blood turns to ice.“Who did?” I ask.Rafe swallows. Hard.“A man,” he says. “Dark hair. Scar on his mouth. He smiled when I bled.”The room tilts.Damien Cross.Rafe doesn’t know the name yet—but his body remembers the face.NICHOLASThis is how it starts.Not with facts.With pain.I force my voice to remain calm. “You remember him clearly?”Rafe nods. “Too clearly.”He presses his fingers into his temples like he’s trying to keep his skull from splitting open.“He tied me to a chair. Not because he had to. Because he liked watching me struggle
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