MasukHi Dear Reader đđ˝
You've probably noticed that I've been struggling to keep a steady updating schedule these last few weeks. My older readers may be aware but I have a busy schedule. I'm a student, and I also juggle a full time job in addition to writing and while I love writing it's becoming increasingly difficult to keep up with my schedule. I either disappoint my readers or myself and that's something I don't want to do. Plus I've been suffering from a severe writers block. I feel like everything I write is trash and I'm not sure if my new chapters align with the story I originally intended to tell. So because of this I've decided to take a break. At least for a week. I'll try and be back once the week is over. I want to use this time to go through my notes of the story as well as re-read this book but most importantly I want to use this time to rest. I think a huge reason for my burnout is because I'm stressed. A friend advised me to take a break and she's right. I need it and as much as I've been trying to deny it my body has done an excellent job at pointing it out several times this last week. From falling sick to recovering and then falling ill again. I hope you understand the reason for my decision. I want to create a story I'm proud of and one you'll love and I can't do that if I constantly feel like everything I'm writing is terrible. Again I hope you understand. I'll be back soon but until then see you soon. Thank You â¤ď¸AaronMy sister slips into the empty seat beside me and hands me a soda can she got from the vending machine at the front desk.My pinky finger twitches at my side but I make no move to procure the can from her fingertips.âTake it.â She urges and when I still donât make an attempt she pins me with a look Iâve only ever seen her use on her kids.Even though Iâm older than her, Ava has always been somewhat of a maternal figure to me. It's always just been both of us for so long, even when Marcus was around. Growing up, whenever I tried to picture our motherâs face, it was Avaâs I saw instead. She always found me at my lowest and was there to pull me back together again, even now.My fingers hover over the can for a moment before I let out a sigh and take it from her.She lets out a sigh of her own and shoves her hand back into the pocket of her coat and redirecting her attention to the sleeping child sprawled across Nikolaiâs lap on the other side of the room.âIt appears sheâs taken
Aaron.Elle passes out the second she notices me pointing a gun at her. Well not her, but the asshole straddling her who is now slumped against her body.Anger simmers in my blood as I slide my gun back into its holster and step inside the trashed living room over to my wife. Once I push the bastard's weight off her, I gather my wifeâs passed-out body and hold her against my chest.âIâve got you,â I whisper, moving my hand to cup the back of her head, pressing her face into my neck. âIâve got you. Youâre okay.âSheâs okay. Sheâs okay. Sheâs here and sheâs okay. God, if I were only a second laâ I shake my head pushing the dark possibility out of my mind.Sheâs here. Sheâs here.Her eyes are closed, cheeks wet like sheâs been crying but sheâs still alive. My gaze drops to her wrist, where a bruise is now forming.Rage twists in my gut.The sick Bastard. He did this to her. He hurt her.âWhat the hell happened here?â Nikolaiâs thick Russian accent cuts through the silence as he steps in
Elle.I believe in taking my mind off the bad when things get worse.Itâs a coping mechanism I developed somewhere between childhood and now, born out of simple necessity and the refusal to let dread swallow me whole.I don't always succeed at it but at least I try.Itâs been over a week since Neil escaped, and a lot has changed.Aaron is on edge, well, more on edge than usual, which is saying something. Heâs barely home, and when he is, he isnât really here. It's like he's far away, tending to phone calls, following clues and even though I get why, it doesn't mean I like it.He stays out late almost every night, tracking down leads on Neil and Ivy, and each time he comes back empty-handed the silence between us gets a little heavier. Itâs almost like theyâve disappeared off the face of the planet, which would be a comfort if I didnât know any better.People like them donât just disappear simply because you want them to. They wait. Which is a lot more worrisome.âSomething on your min
ElleLife is absolutely fantastic.No, really I mean it. My husband loves me and I love him. And even better? I told him how I felt and didn't throw up or run away or both.I am on fucking cloud 9 and nothing is going to bring me down. At least thatâs what I thought.Until three days later, when I wake up to find my husband speaking rapidly into the phone, it takes me a while to realise heâs speaking English.He ends the call on a harsh âFind them.â Before tossing his phone back on the bed, he swore harshly in a language I donât understand.âSince when did you know how to speak French?â And why has he never spoken it to me before?He spins around, wild eyes softening as he meets mine.âBaby,â the nickname which usually warms something me from the inside instead today makes my skin prick with worry because thatâs the emotion I see on his face as he looks at me.âWhatâs wrong?â I say, adjusting on the bed so I can cross my legs underneath me.He says nothing, inhaling sharply, while ru
Aaron.*Five years ago*âHe went this way,â one of my pursuers shouts, barking the order for the others to follow. Fortunately for me, they do.Fucking hell.My uncle says something over the earpiece but I can hardly make out the words through the immense throbbing at my side. I clamp my hand over the stab wound at my side, forcing myself to ignore the warm blood slipping between my fingers.Damnit. Iâve been stabbed before, but the memory of a blade piercing through my skin and tissues doesnât live up to the reality of this. This pain slowly consumes me, like Iâm close to the brink of death.I was fairly certain the blade had punctured something important, but since I wasnât particularly good at biology, I couldnât guess exactly what had been hit.Not only was being stabbed rare these days, but it also required me to be stupid enough to let someone get close enough to do the damage, which apparently I was. When I found out the Italians had intercepted our shipments I shouldâve know
Elle.Shit. Fuck. Shit. I didnât want it to come out like that.Aaron stops his exploration, his eyes drifting up to hold my gaze. âYou what?ââI- well, that wasâŚââSay it again.â He rasps breathlessly. He nips lightly at my chin and a low almost desperate whimper slips from my throat. âSay it again.â He repeats when the words fail to be uttered once more. I remain quiet not because I donât want to say the words again, but because a sick part of me liked the desperate twinkle I saw gleaming in his eyes.âPlease, Angel.â He breathes, âDonât make me beg. Iâll do it if thatâs what you want just let me hear you say it again.âMy heart is at the front and centre of a marching band. Heâs bluffing. He canât possibly beg me to say those words again, can he?âDo it then.âFucking hell. I did not just say that.But itâs too late. The words are free and I now have to deal with the consequences of my stupid actions.For a second, the only sound in the room is the heavy, jagged rhythm of our br
Elle"You're a lot better at this than I imagined," Aaron says mildly amused as he glides us through the sea of gowns and tuxedos, his hand firmly planted on my waist."You thought I was a terrible dancer didn't you?" I arch a brow at him letting a small teasing smile twist my lips.He shrugs "It m
Elle"Aaron?" I gasp.My fake fiancĂŠ stands merely inches away from me, his hand around the throat of a man I don't recognise, practically choking him as blood dribbles down the side of his mouth.What the hell happened here?I wasn't even gone that long.But apparently, going to the ladies' room f
ElleThe door of the limo falls open and Aaron stands in front of me, thrusts his hand forward and waits for me to take it.I hesitate.I've never been one to shy away from the spotlight. I amâwas a stripper. My entire persona at the club depended on being seen. Noticed. When I was Dahlia I had n
Elle"No", I immediately say, reeling back. Ava watches me, her gaze narrowing, pinning me with an inquisitive look."It's nothing like that.""Then why are you marrying him and please don't say it's because you're in love with him."A blush crests my cheeks at the memory of my previous outburst in







