LOGINThis book is officially over. I can't believe I finished it. There were times I wanted to give up. Times I did at some point, but for some reason, I always found the energy to push through. I want to thank everyone who gave this book a chance. Without you, this book wouldn't be as successful as it
“Nikolai, I- ouch” She takes a step towards me and then stops, her face twisting into a grimace. I'm at her side in an instant, my hands around her shoulder, steadying her, “What's wrong?” I ask, my gaze scanning her carefully. My eyes land on the thin ragged line on her knee. The edges are raw, a
To be honest I wouldn't blame her if she did. She’d just seen me torture information out of a man. A man who deserves every bit of pain I dished out to him and more but still. Ava wasn’t used to this. She wasn’t used to seeing other people suffer. I was. I thought I could shield her from the darknes
Nikolai There's a solid second that follows after I see her, where the two of us just stare at each other, neither one of us willing to break contact first. Fuck. She wasn't supposed to be here. How the hell did she even find this place? "Ava, wait," Her eyes widened, a flicker of panic cross
I don’t. My pulse dips, and my heart rate spikes. The passageway is dark and the light seeping in from the library barely serves as an adequate lighting source. I whip out my phone and turn on the flashlight, barely containing the scream that threatens to erupt from my throat, when I see a roach s
The drawing is far from perfect, but it's perfect enough to make Kira smile, and that's enough for me. “Do you think Papa will like it?” I smile softly, brushing a strand of her dark hair away from her face. "I think your papa will love it.” Kira's smile brightens even more. The door to the
Ava Two things happen in that very instant. The first is that I scream. Loudly. I scream so loud that my eardrums rupture and the eardrums of others at least a thousand miles away do the same. I scream so loudly that my throat burns from the stretch, and my father —or should I say ex-father—and An
Ava. "Dad?" The word falls from my lips as a broken whisper. My father stands in front of me, impossibly real, and no matter how much I pray for it not to be so, his feet remain firmly planted on the concrete. Unlike last time, he looks put together. His hair is brushed over, and his beer belly l
But there is a part of me that is still too afraid to believe that this, any of this is real. “I’m scared,” I admit, watching the words form on my lips more than I hear them leave me. I'm scared that this isn't real. I'm scared that my father will crawl out from whatever hole he's dug himself in t
Ava I wake up the day with a nervous pit growing in my stomach. I received an email yesterday summoning me to the school's gallery at 10 a.m. today for a press briefing and walk-through. It was nothing unusual, just standard protocol for graduating students showcasing their final projects. And wh







