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Chapter Thirty-Two Part 1: Day Fourteen - The Final Test
publish date:
2026-03-23 08:40:13
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Marked, Broken and Carrying his Heir Book Two | Crowned in Blood | Chapter Two Part 1: The King's Meeting
The Neutral Ground was a church, or had been, long before anyone currently breathing in Triplicity staked a claim to anything. The stained glass was long gone, replaced with reinforced panels that let in the same colored light without the vulnerability of actual glass. The pews hadn't gone anywhere. They sat in crooked rows under sheets gone gray with dust, half of them split down the middle where the wood had finally given up holding itself together. The altar staging at the front had rotted soft at the edges, the steps up to it no longer trusted to hold anyone's weight. Bird droppings streaked the walls under the high windows, and something larger than a bird moved in the rafters from time to time, unbothered by the meetings held below it. Behind the last pew, someone had built a nest of blankets and flattened cardboard into the corner, empty for now but recently enough that no one had cleared it out. No one bothered with most of the church at all. That was exactly why it worked. No
Marked, Broken and Carrying his Heir Book Two | Crowned in Blood | Chapter One Part 2: The Beginning is the End
"Enter," she said. Her voice was rough, cigarettes and something older than cigarettes, years that didn't match her face."Corporal, we've secured the area and will take care of the rest," a man reported from the doorway.She nodded without turning, snapping the case shut and gripping the handle. She stepped to the window and tipped her head once at the crew below. Enough. They dispersed like smoke."Clean up and let's get the fuck out of here. Doubt they've regrouped yet, but it looks like we need a King's Meeting sooner rather than later.""New treaties need to be drawn up," the man said."New treaties." She said it the way you said a word you'd said so many times it had stopped meaning anything. "Yeah."She moved past him and headed for the stairs, already lighting a fresh cigarette. The cherry hit the back of her throat and she held it there a moment before exhaling. The smoke tasted like every room she'd ever stood in after something like this. Every cleared building, every ended
Marked, Broken and Carrying his Heir Book Two | Crowned in Blood | Chapter One Part 1: The Beginning is the End
The cherry cigarette smoke hung in the air, shifting like a ghost dancing on a breeze. Could there be any more lame symbol of the era of addiction over true moral choice than the cigarette? Perhaps coffee and cars, with their bizarre use of prime agricultural land and gratuitous pollution. And yet, here the young woman was, adding to that pollution, that addiction. All for that toxic tar cherry taste that coated her tongue, not to mention her lungs. Even the air coming in through the cracked-open window could do little to dissipate the cloud of smoke that hid her face from view.The room was an empty office on the sixth floor of a gutted commercial building, stripped down to concrete and exposed wiring and the smell of old water damage. No furniture except the folding chair she'd brought up herself and the table holding the rifle case. A single window, cracked two inches. Enough for the barrel, enough for the breeze, not enough to see her from the street below. She'd swept the floor b
Marked, Broken and Carrying his Heir Chapter Fifty-Eight Part 2: The Aftermath
A week later. Novalee woke. Hospital room. Private. Secure. Guards outside. Not to keep her in. To keep threats out.The surgeries had been extensive. Emergency hysterectomy. Facial reconstruction. Blood transfusions. Infection prevention. Three days under heavy sedation while her body began the long process of healing.Atlas sat beside the bed. Waiting. His shoulder bandaged but functional.Her eyes opened. Unfocused. Confused. Then—memory. Rushing back. The rape. The stabbing. The child. The killing. All of it.Her hand moved to her abdomen. Bandaged. Stitched. Empty."The baby," she whispered. Voice raw. Broken."Gone," Atlas said gently. "I'm sorry. The knife—it killed the child. They had to remove—they had to do surgery. To save you. They couldn't save the baby. Or—or your ability to have more. The damage was too extensive. They had to remove everything."Tears fell. Silent. Devastating. The child gone. The future gone. The possibility of more—gone.All of it taken. All of it des
Marked, Broken and Carrying his Heir Chapter Fifty-Eight Part 1: The Aftermath
The doctors worked fast. Professional. Efficient. Years of treating Blackwing injuries made them unshakeable.Novalee on a gurney. Unconscious now. The adrenaline finally fading. The pain overwhelming. The blood loss catastrophic.Three major wounds. The face—slashed from left eye to chin. Deep. Requiring careful suturing to minimize scarring. Though the scar would remain. Permanent. Visible.The abdomen—stabbed. The knife had gone deep. Into the uterus. Into the child. Emergency surgery required. To remove what couldn't be saved. To repair what could. To stop the bleeding. To save her life.Between her legs—trauma. Tearing. Bleeding. Evidence of brutal sexual assault. The doctors documenting. Photographing. Building the case. The evidence of what had been done to her.Atlas stood nearby. Watching. Waiting. His own shoulder wound bandaged. Minor compared to hers. Survivable without surgery. Just cleaning. Packing. Wrapping.The head doctor approached. Older. Experienced. Loyal to the
Marked, Broken and Carrying his Heir Chapter Fifty-Seven Part 4: The Truth
The knife moved one final time. To his navel. She pressed the tip in. Then dragged. Slowly. Deliberately. Up through his abdomen. Through his chest. To his sternum. Up his throat. To his chin. Into his mouth.Dante screamed. Tried to. The sound gurgling. Blood pouring.She pulled the knife out. Watched him collapse. Watched him bleed. Watched him die. The light fading from his eyes just like the life that faded from her womb.Slowly. Painfully. The way he deserved.Her child didn't deserve what he did though. This was justice for that being.When he finally stopped moving, when the man who'd owned her, used her, destroyed her was dead, she dropped the knife.Looked around. The war room. Blood everywhere. Bodies everywhere. Isabella dead. Dante dead. Guards dead. Atlas—Atlas caught her as she collapsed. The adrenaline fading. The pain overwhelming. The blood loss, too much. From her face. From her abdomen. From everything."I've got you," he said. Lowering her carefully. "I've got you
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