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His Chicken, Our Crisis
Last Updated:
2025-12-29 17:19:17
Latest chapter
His Ex Mistress, His Enemy The Shape of Us
The light behind my eyelids felt too white for a world that had just gone up in flames.I woke slowly, not the cool cinematic kind of waking. More like waking with a dry mouth that tasted like I’d chewed on sidewalk chalk. My nose complained first: antiseptic, expensive linen, and something that reminded me of espresso machine coffee, not the instant stuff.Voices hit me before my eyes caught up, coming from the half-open door.“I’m going in first,” Ash barked. “She’s my mami.”“She’s my aunt,” Zoe shot back, louder. “I’m the cousin plus the princess. My rank is above yours.”“No! Mami is—”“If you raise your voices one more octave, you’re sleeping in the parking lot,” Krystal cut in, sharp as glass. “The doctor said she needs rest. Ash, lower your hand. Zoe, if you step on his foot again, I will sell every piece of glitter you own.”Two tiny protests flared at the same time. A chair scraped. Something fell, probably a crayon. Someone muttered in Spanish.My eyes finally gave up and o
His Ex Mistress, His Enemy The Line I Cross for You
Zane climbed down from his firing position.Diego and another guy shoved inside, spreading out, rifles aimed at the far side of the room where the gunshot had come from. Two men in black—definitely not our people—dragged themselves behind a small forklift at the end. One wasn’t moving. The other tried to lift his gun with a shaking hand.“Put it down.” Zane’s voice cut through the room. Cold. “Now.”The guy turned, eyes wild. His right hand rose, the gun lining up with… me. Great.I held my breath. Erick pressed against the drum behind me, his body forming a thin wall.The next bullet didn’t come from the enemy.A single shot cracked. Diego. His rifle jerked up just a little, then dropped again with a blink-fast reflex.The man’s gun flew from his hand, clattering against the wall. He staggered, shouting, clutching the shoulder that was now bleeding.“Try it again,” Diego spat in Italian, keeping the barrel low. “We’re not the police.”Amelia lifted her hands higher, fast, her fingers
His Ex Mistress, His Enemy Cutting Zip-Ties and Fate
If I ever claimed my life was dramatic, tonight the universe answered, “Hold this.”The hallway outside the door exploded in sound.Another shot. Close. A bullet slammed into the doorframe, splinters spraying into the room. Amelia and Sophia dropped into a crouch, backs pressed to the wall, their elegance evaporating along with whatever pride they had left.I hit the floor on instinct, half sprawled over Erick. The chair scraped again, loud on the concrete.“Di,” Erick hissed. His breath snagged in his chest.“Quiet.” My forehead pressed against his collarbone. “If you die, I need whatever energy I have left to yell at your corpse.”From the hallway came Diego’s voice, sharp and clear beneath the chaos.“Linea sinistra clear! Move slow!”Another voice answered, younger, fast. Probably Zake. “Two behind the forklift, twelve o’clock. I’m moving.”Then the voice that made my spine shake, even in a warehouse that smelled like rust.“Hold, Zake. Wait. They have hostages.”Zane.My ears cau
His Ex Mistress, His Enemy cover, cover
The second blast hit closer.The floor lurched for real this time. The light overhead stopped being décor and turned into a threat; the cable swung hard, its shadow dancing over the brick wall. Dust rained from the ceiling, stinging eyes and throat.“What was that?” Erick choked from the chair.“Picnic,” I muttered without thinking. “Gangster edition.”Amelia was already at the window. Her heels clicked on the concrete with a rhythm that didn’t match the situation at all. She yanked the grimy curtain aside and looked out.When she turned again, the change on her pretty face wasn’t dramatic. My brow even appreciated the Botox. Her jaw locked.“They’re here,” she said.“They?” I gripped the back of Erick’s chair, heart counting down on its own.The third explosion didn’t come from far away. It felt like something blew right under our feet. Heat rushed through the cracks of the window, carrying the bite of smoke and metal.Then… gunfire.The first shot cracked through the warehouse halls
His Ex Mistress, His Enemy Detonation
"Okay, what plot twist is this supposed to be."The words slipped out before my brain caught up.Sophia leaned on the doorway like this was just an internal meeting relocated to hell. Black blazer, slacks, spotless white sneakers. Her hair was tied in a lazy knot, loose strands brushing her cheeks. Glasses hooked on her blouse collar instead of her face. One hand toyed with her phone, thumb sliding once."Seriously, D," she went on, her tone flat. "If you need fifteen more minutes for a dramatic reunion, I’ll resend the email. The one that says, ‘We found something about Erick’ in triple bold."I stayed on the floor. One hand on Erick’s knee, the other gripping the chair. My lungs dragged for air, my chest tight. My head still refused to accept what I was seeing."Sophia." My tongue felt like paper. "How did you even…""Get in?" She lifted a brow. "The door wasn’t locked, sweetheart. You just walked in too."That wasn’t what I asked and she knew it.Erick shifted weakly. "So…" his voi
His Ex Mistress, His Enemy The Side Door
If there had been an award for the Worst Midnight Decision, I would’ve been holding the trophy already.I slipped past the iron gate and dropped onto the dirt road. Mud splattered my shoes. Milan’s cold bit straight through my hoodie. The narrow stretch ahead sat empty, washed in a thin ribbon of fog and framed by old trees leaning over the path. A low engine hum crept closer. A pale yellow glow broke through the dark.A taxi.Not a sleek black sedan with tinted windows. Just a regular city cab. White paint. A crooked TAXI sign on top that looked like it had survived too many bad nights. The engine rolled to a stop right in front of me. The driver lowered the window.A man in his fifties, gray hair, thin mustache, sly eyes that had clearly watched too many fools get into his car at even worse hours.“Signorina?” Thick accent. His gaze drifted from my face to the hoodie, to my pants, then to the gate behind me. He checked the address on the phone strapped to his dashboard. “Via… that o
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