Shatter Me Book 1 Novelas e Histórias

**This is the third book in the Guardians Next Generation Series. It can be read as a standalone book but will have references to events that occurred in Shattered Bonds. This book will run in a parallel timeframe to Shattered Bonds. Events in this book will overlap with events in that book. Maeve Three Years Ago

Charlotte’s shoulders collapsed inward, like she wanted to disappear. I closed my eyes, and the rage surged through me like wildfire. It wasn’t just about Evan and Charlotte. It wasn’t even just about betrayal. It was years - years - of being taken for granted, of having to be the bigger person, the one who understood, who endured. And now I was standing in the middle of a room full of people - an audience - and two of them had shattered me. I felt the burning bile rise in my throat. Felt it clawing to be released.

Shattered Resolve LIAM'S POV The ground felt unsteady beneath me as I stood in the wake of Elena’s rejection, her words echoing in my mind like a nightmare I couldn’t escape. My chest was tight, my breath shallow, and yet my heart—my heart was a battlefield, torn between the raw, unrelenting pain of her words and the brutal weight of responsibility pressing down on me as Alpha. I could still feel the cold sting of her departure, each step she took away from me like a knife, carving away the hope that I hadn’t even realized I was clinging to.

I wanted to be your partner, not your project. He turned the page. You made me feel beautiful and broken at the same time. And that contradiction lived in me like wildfire." Page after page, her voice bleed through. Raw. Honest. Forgiving in some places. Devastating in others. By the time she was finished, Killian was holding the book with white knuckles. If you ever find your way back to me, I won't make it easy. Because love shouldn't be easy. But if you're still willing to fight. then maybe we have a chance."

His words were needles, but I’d long since grown used to the sting. I curled my fingers into tight fists before letting them speak with deadly calm: You won’t break me. His head tilted, his eyes narrowing. “Oh, but I don’t have to break you,” he whispered, stepping back into the shadows like a vulture circling a carcass. “You’re already cracked. All I have to do is tap…” He tapped his fingers once, twice, thrice against the stone wall—each knock loud, deliberate. “And watch you shatter.” The echo lingered longer than it should have. He thought he could chip away at me until I collapsed into dust. He didn’t realize—I’d already shattered. And from shattered things, sharper edges are born.

“You want it.” Her lips parted on a shudder. “Yes.” The kiss crashed down like a storm, fierce and consuming, the culmination of every unspoken battle between them. It wasn’t gentle it was a surrender, a collision, a fire neither of them could put out. When they finally broke apart, foreheads pressed together, Grace’s whisper trembled into the dark. “You’re going to ruin me.” Damien’s voice was a vow, rough and raw. “No, Grace. I’m going to claim you.”

The memoir she once swore she’d never write. Each keystroke was a heartbeat. Each sentence, a reclaiming. They said silence was survival. But silence was the weapon that killed me the slowest. Hours passed. The rain outside turned to a downpour, tapping against the glass like impatient fingers. But she kept writing. By the time dawn touched the horizon, Alina had twenty pages. Pages that bled truth, grief, strength — and hope. She saved the file, titled it “Shattered Promises — Draft 1.”

And I definitely didn’t know my soft, curvy body would soon swell with his child… People mocked my shape for as long as I can remember, so I rebuilt myself piece by piece. But all my hard-won confidence crumbles the moment the past is thrown back at me—Especially when the Alpha who once broke me now insists my body belongs to him. Especially when my destined mate looks at me once and decides I’m his completely. I swore I no longer wanted him. Yet here I am, fighting, and losing, to resist his pull. My curves tremble whenever he’s close, betraying how badly they crave him. My body pleads for his hands, humiliating me with how much it wants him.

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But he doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know that every ounce of pain I’ve endured in my life has turned me into something sharp, something that bites back. He doesn’t know that I don’t just break, I shatter , and I take down whoever’s closest when I do. I feel the nausea curling tighter in my chest, but underneath it, something else bubbles: anger. No. Rage .