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Adriano slowly lifted his boot, letting the blood drip off the leather onto the concrete as his stare swept across the rest. "Now," he whispered, a terrifying smile finally touching the corners of his lips, "Who else feels like telling me a story?" Morgan started sobbing violently. I shook my h
No, no! "I wasn't even there when they hurt the girl!" Cole yelled, "They brought her to me already bleeding! Brianna was the one who hit her in the head! She used a heavy wooden club from the garage! They carried her in here like a sack of rocks, and I was the one who washed the blood off her fac
Cole’s chest heaved, his eyes turned frantic, like a rat looking for a hole in the wall. "I know how Chicago works. You don't survive in this city by picking a fight with the Capones," he slowly shook his head, "I'm not suicidal." My stomach twisted. No. He was lying. I made a desperate sound
"Move!" Capone guards surged forward with frightening speed. Cole's men reached for their weapons but they never got the chance. One guard twisted a man's arm behind his back before he had even cleared his waistband. Another kicked a pistol across the concrete floor. Boots thundered in every dire
I looked at Cole again. He wasn't even watching us. He was checking his phone. Rage exploded inside me, "MMPH!" I lunged forward as far as the ropes allowed. "If she keeps doing that," he said calmly, "she'll reopen the wound." I wanted to claw his face apart. I wanted to scream. Instead, anoth
Gianna ━⊰ ❦ ⊱━ Pain. That was the first thing I felt. It was a deep, heavy ache that pulsed through the back of my head. It throbbed with every heartbeat, every breath, every tiny movement. A quiet whimper escaped me before I even opened my eyes. The world slowly came into focus. The ceiling a
My brain felt like a tangled ball of yarn. I tried to read the data set again, but the numbers blurred into gray smudges. I needed to be perfect. If I wasn't perfect, I was nothing. I was just a broken thing taking up space in a house that wasn't mine. My hand moved to my bag. It was a reflex
Then, she looked back at me. Our eyes locked for a heartbeat. There was no warmth there. Her face hardened, her brow furrowing into a deep frown of pure disgust. It wasn't jealousy, it was the look of someone who had just stepped in something foul and couldn't get the smell out of her clothes.
She let out a small, broken whimper and dove back down, her tongue frantic, her teeth grazing me as she tried to prove me wrong. She was gagging, her eyes watering as she fought her own anatomy to please mine. It was exactly what I needed. No complexity. No "stepsister" bullshit. I watch
The first turn was a death trap, a sharp left around a rusted shipping container. I didn't brake. I leaned the bike so low I could feel the heat radiating off the asphalt, my knee puck dragging and throwing sparks into the dark. One slip, one patch of oil, and I’d be a smear on the concrete. I di







