Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke Kindle Novels & Stories

A contract I'd been after for a year now, and a deal that will have my bikes all over the world. "Tell me something, Jared, is she going to turn my place upside down?" "Nah...well not in a bad way anyhow." I looked at him full on with the do not fuck with me glare. "What am I in for?" "All I will say is that it's good to see some of the old Kat again, after what those fucks did to herª" He stopped short and cut himself off. I felt a burning in my gut as my fists curled. "What fucks, what're you talking about?"

Smoke clung to the air, thick and bitter, curling through the splintered trees. The silence after the clash felt heavier than the fight itself, as though the whole forest was holding its breath. I leaned into Kieran, my voice raw. "It's really... gone?" His storms flickered, scanning the smoldering wreck. "For now." "For now?" My chest tightened. "You mean it could come back?" He shook his head slowly. "Not that thing. But whatever made it" He broke off, jaw clenched, fire still crackling faintly across his skin. "That's not gone. Not yet."

“Now. This is getting worse.” He didn’t move. “They won’t let us leave,” he said quietly. “We don’t know that,” I argued. “I do,” he replied. Irene stepped closer. “Then we make it happen,” she said. “We’ve gotten out of worse.” Wilson blinked. “…Have we?” he asked. “Because this feels like the worst so far.” “No,” Irene said. “It’s just the most complicated.” “That is not comforting,” Wilson muttered. I turned back to Cameron.

Fair enough. The meeting continued for another hour. By the time it ended, I had a clearer picture of just how bad things were. And somehow, aclearer picture of her too. The last person packed up their things and left, thanking Kiara before heading out. The door closed. And just like that, It was just us again. The silence between us was heavy. She turned to me slowly. “That’s the situation,” she said. “Hoping it gets better.” She crossed her arms.

"Threatened to withhold the tissue debt if I didn't." He laughed, pulled out my chair actual chair-pulling, who does that? and we sat. The place was quiet, just low chatter and the hiss of the espresso machine. No cameras, no screaming fans, no kiss cams. Just us. "So," he started, pushing my cup over. "How's the post-apocalypse going? You look... less like you want to murder someone." I snorted into my coffee. "Progress. Yesterday I only wanted to murder half the population."

Things had been strange between us, our feelings still growing, and the two of us constantly dancing around us. At least the triplets were thriving, much to my relief. I didn’t look up from the book in my lap. “You knock now? That’s new.” “Don’t get used to it,” he said, stepping in anyway. “You busy?” “Mentally or emotionally?” “Both,” he said flatly. “But I need you to listen for a second.” I closed the book, sliding a receipt in as a placeholder. “Okay, shoot.” He crossed his arms, like he was building armor before even speaking. “My dad’s been doing better. Stronger. The treatments… they’ve been working.”

“I didn’t want you to give in and go back to a toxic relationship!” Was it toxic? It was uneven, maybe - unequal. “Now, what do you think?” I steal the cookie Joy’s just picked back up. “I think… I think, whatever it was before, you left things better.” “We both still have the same problems, Joy. My father’s still in jail and he doesn’t have an heir. Actually,” I say. “Things are worse. My father’s in maximum security and he’s sick, I don’t have a wolf anymore, and Ansel’s dealing with his mess.”

I will never forgive him even if he apologizes. "But it seems something is going on with him. He talked like he would be dying soon. He seems to have really poor health. Maybe poison, long-term disease, a curse…" I ended the call, putting a permanent end to Karen's never-ending chatter and thoughts but he got one thing right.

“…you just said it’s not bound anymore.” “…doesn’t mean it knows everything.” “…yet.” He doesn’t respond to that. Which tells me— I’m right. “…we made it smarter,” I whisper. “…yeah.” “…we made it stronger.” “…yeah.” “…we made it harder to kill.” “…yeah.” I let out a slow breath. “…great.” A faint huff of air escapes him. Not quite a laugh. “…we always did have a talent for making things worse.”