All Chapters of TWISTED BONDS : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

TRIGGER WARNING [MENTIONS OF DEATH]—GIANNA—I'm sick. I know that. Whatever disease I've got I have no clue, but being sick in the head would certainly explain why I’m putting on my makeup while my shitty boyfriend's corpse lies on top of his mistress's dead body.The smell of blood filled my one-room apartment, their clothes scattered all over the bedroom, and my gun was neatly arranged in his hands, artfully staging the scene while I finished my makeup.I never really liked Aaron. I got him last year as a plaything, probably because I was a sexually starved, traumatized woman—or maybe I just liked the idea of having a boyfriend as an accessory. Maybe it was both. Last I checked, he was supposed to stay loyal and not divert every single penny I worked so damn hard for into his personal account, take ownership of my house behind my back, and, worst of all, blow my money on the whore I caught him with.I helped them meet the Lord with a bullet through each of their heads. Lovers dying

— T O B I A S — ❛I’mma treat you right tonight; let's make this last forever❜ — Gnash/Lights Down Low. *** From the moment she walked through that door, I sensed she could bring trouble. Gianna was strikingly beautiful, her features delicate and innocent peeking out from behind her mask, yet her aura and personality were anything but. I was particularly intrigued by her defiance when I asked her to leave; it seemed she had more tricks up her sleeve than I could ever imagine. Listening to her share her story, I felt nothing but admiration for how far she’d come and how strong she had become in this cruel world. It felt like the only thing I wanted was to stay beside this resilient woman who masked her pain so well. I had an overwhelming urge to take care of her, to protect her from any harm. Sometimes, even the strongest soldiers need help. My friends Kim and Elis dragged me out tonight; I had come primarily to drink away my worries and annoyances about my grandmother sti

ONE YEAR LATER.—GIANNA (RENEE)—I yawned slightly, attempting to turn, only to be restrained by a man's hands on my waist. My eyes widened. “Shit. Shit. Shit!” I cursed, hurriedly buttoning my shirt and searching for my shoes. When I couldn't locate them, I stepped out barefoot, draping his coat over my body for modesty.After a few minutes of searching, I finally found a taxi and jumped in, struggling to organize my racing thoughts. I ran my fingers through my hair, my mind drifting back to him. I couldn't just leave him without an explanation—not after everything we'd been through. He didn't deserve that, and deep down, I knew I wanted him.“Turn around,” I instructed the taxi driver.“Huh?”“Take me back to where you picked me up,” I clarified.“You’ll still pay me, right?” “Yeah, yeah, just go!” I rolled my eyes, nibbling on my fingers in agitation.The driver shifted the car into reverse, but in an instant, from the corner of my eye, I spotted a truck barreling toward us. Boom!

— TOBIAS—I adjust my tie before slipping on my wristwatch. Anna is still asleep, turning with a loud yawn, so I decide against waking her. I put on my suit jacket, grab my suitcase, and leave the room.“You're leaving?” Her voice makes me pause, and I turn to look at her.“Yes, I’ll see you when I get back.” I smile at her.“Good luck.” She groans and pulls the duvet over her face.I take my leave, not bothering to initiate conversation or kiss her cheek. We weren't that lovey-dovey couple, anyway. She often complained about my distance.Over the past year, I wouldn’t say I regret marrying her, but I can’t deny it hasn’t been what I hoped it would be after that first day. Flash marriages aren't something I’d recommend, especially if your wife is intent on changing her entire personality to please you.We lived more like strangers, and I supported her in launching a clothing line just to keep her busy, preventing her from wasting her years on a marriage where I’m hardly present.My mi

— GIANNA (RENEE) —I’m trying to stay calm, taking deep breaths like I did this morning when I first saw him. Pictures hardly did him justice—he’s a walking masterpiece, as though sculpted for a world more elegant than this one. He makes me sound poetic, which I’m not, but it’s his fault—his voice is deep and velvety, soaked in an intoxicating British accent, laced with effortless charm.I came here to seduce him, to control the situation. But at this rate, he might as well be the one doing the seducing. The turquoise of his eyes is a striking contrast to his sharply defined features, like some forbidden god descended to earth. And worse, there’s something familiar about him—his voice, his presence. But that must be my mind playing cruel tricks on me. Right?When he commented on my outfit earlier, the urge to grab a handful of his perfectly styled hair and remind him who he was talking to was overwhelming. But no, I can’t risk showing my hand. The plan demands subtlety, and until I fi