Calculating, cold, often without emotion was how I was described by those closest to me. I had thought perhaps there was truth to their depiction until this endless searing pain took the place in my chest where my heart used to be. Vengeance now ate away at my soul. The wrath I planned to unleash would make the demons in Hell appear mild.

At least, that was until…

The twisted crux came in the form of eyes bluer than the sky on a warm summer day, a slightly upturned nose with a scattering of freckles, a pink cupid bow mouth, and a smile that made a man’s knees weak.

The events that brought us here meant I should loathe her existence for eternity, yet my need for her grows with each passing day. She’s too young, she’s vulnerable and broken, but somehow, she’s not damaged. She was the cause of what had left me with this raging agony, and yet, the balm that eased my soul. Still, I can never forgive the destruction she caused me and those I love.

I had become a mockery of my revenge because holding her at night while she slept was the only thing keeping me sane. She’ll pay the price through my cruelty, never knowing that while she dreams, I find my solace.

My story begins with my worst nightmare.
And she’s the reason behind all of it.

Saylor
Was it a sin to hate the dead?

It was something I had pondered many times over the past ten months. Although it wasn’t why I required medication to sleep at night. I wasn’t truly concerned about the level of darkness that resided in my soul. It was the images of the night I had watched a bullet take down the boy I had loved most of my life. Seeing the life leave his body, the way his eyes had gone void. It haunted me. Even now that I knew he’d betrayed me. That what I thought had been real had all been a lie. Crosby Cash had been in love, alright, just not with me.

Those closest to me, the ones who were supposed to love me, all accused me of being dramatic. Because that made sense. I just loved the panic attacks that robbed me of my ability to breathe. And the passing out from lack of oxygen was the best. Looking in the mirror and not recognizing the girl looking back at me was my favorite.

Perhaps that was the reason I sought solace in the last place anyone would think I’d go. We weren’t religious people. I’d been born into a family of organized crime. The day I walked into the catholic church seeking… forgiveness, closure, something…anything to find the girl I had once been, I hadn’t expected him. The man ordained by God to lead his people to salvation. Well, that man in the sky so many believed in made a grave mistake allowing a man who looked like Jude, or rather Father Jude, to wear that white collar.

I could lie and say I found what I was looking for standing in front of the altar, staring up at the crucifix, but even those with tarnished souls have their limits. I found something alright, but it wasn’t forgiveness. My answer wasn’t going to come from the one they called their Savior but the one they referred to as Father.

Taking her was a means to an end. The task was to weed out the man who had stolen millions from us. He may have succeeded, but he’d pay with his life. Hiding from us was a grave error he’d regret soon enough because once he found out that we had taken the one thing he cared for as repayment- he’d show up. When a man had a weakness, it was foolish to make a mistake like this. He would come for her, and when he did, he wouldn’t walk away unscathed, nor would the sister he adored.

This was my fault. I hadn’t seen his scheme. It was my mistake, so I had to fix it. However, it seemed the joke was on me. What I had thought would be an easy job proved more difficult than I’d imagined. I had underestimated the power of her big brown eyes, full lips, and sweet, sultry voice. Keeping my focus on torturing information from her- when what I really wanted to do was touch her, have her, own her- would not only be a painful obstacle but possibly my biggest failure.

Except she hated the sight of me.
But I couldn’t blame her.
I’d walked out of her nightmares as her own personal monster.

“They were kings, and for a brief part of my life, I was allowed to live inside their kingdom.”

Branwen
Little girls grow up, and time steals their innocence. Memories fade, and things you love change. Except for me. You see, I fell in love at first sight when I was six years old. The problem with that was he was a grown man. My young heart had believed that he belonged to me. That should have faded with time. It didn’t. Although I hadn’t seen him in over twenty years, I still found myself measuring up the men I dated to him. That was until the day he walked into a nightclub in Vegas and sat down beside me at the bar.

He didn’t recognize the woman I had become, but I knew exactly who he was. My heart had soared, and the flutters in my stomach that no one else had ever stirred came roaring back to life. Fate had brought him back to me.

Waking up in his suite alone the next morning with a note and a morning after pill with no way to contact him had taught me that flutters were not to be trusted and that fate was a mean bitch.

Five years later, I am engaged, happy, and about to give my four-year-old daughter the life I want for her, complete with a white picket fence and a father.

That is… until I find out that I can’t get married. Because I already am.

Montana

Momma hadn’t been gone from the world for twenty-four hours before the first letter showed up. Blue paper, folded into an origami heart, left where the writer knew I’d find it. Dealing with my grief, I was able to put it out of my mind until the next one came, then the next. Each one more disturbing than the last. Until I woke up to find one beside me.
He’d watched me sleep.

Only desperation could drive me to ask the man who had fertilized my momma’s egg for help. I preferred to forget him and his existence, just like he had us… me. But with Momma gone, I had no one, and I needed a safe place to escape—out of this town and away from the stranger who was stalking me.

To say I was shocked that my father turned me down would be a lie. I’d expected as much. He’d left me with no choice but to threaten to expose his sins to the God-fearing people of Mississippi who placed him in office. The nineteen-year-old daughter of a stripper he’d knocked up and deserted would know a lot about his transgressions.

However, the two men he sent to get me weren’t what I’d been expecting, but I didn’t really have much of a choice. It was trust the devil I knew or stay and live in fear of the one I didn’t.

Ransom
Within the family, we had no secrets. Our lives were intertwined, and the darkness that came with our way of life was something we all shared. Accepted. Had been born into. But for ten years, I’ve had one thing that was mine. Something I kept to myself. A source of light when things got heavy. The nerdy, overlooked tutor from high school who had been a breath of fresh air while helping me pass British Literature was someone I hadn’t let go of. Sure, it had been ten years since we’d seen each other, but that wasn’t important. Our texting was what I needed. Her wittiness had the ability to make me laugh and lighten my mood with her comebacks. She had never tried to impress me or flirt. It was the strongest relationship I’d ever had with a female, but it was also platonic, which was why it lasted. Noa Raines was my calm in the storms of life, and I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.

Noa
When faced with a situation you weren’t expecting and have no idea how to navigate, one normally asks for advice from someone they trust. Typically, I’d text out my problem to my texting pen pal and ask him what to do. Except this time, my issue was with him. In the flesh, in front of me, glaring at me like he’d rather lick the bottom of his shoe than speak to me. I had no logical reason why he should dislike me on sight. He didn’t recognize me, that I knew. The name he’d been given was my pen name. One I had actually chosen because of him. Ironic that he’d made a snarky comment about it.
How was the man sitting across from me the same one I’d talked to almost daily for ten years? This man was cruel, rude, and although he was still mouthwatering, I didn’t like him. And he didn’t deserve to know who I was now. I’d walk out of here keeping that to myself. The next time he texted, he’d go unanswered. If he wanted to treat others so harshly, then I’d return the favor.

Noa

The man I’d grown to know over the past ten years through our texting was much different from the possessive, secretive, and dangerous one I was slowly unraveling. The different personalities he seemed to have were giving me whiplash. When he was with me, it was perfect, I didn’t question anything.

It was when he was gone that the insecurities crept in, and soon enough, those fears became reality. Like so many before me, I became one of Ransom Carver’s cast offs. He managed to break me in ways not even
my mother had been able to do.

Ransom

When called out, I had admitted to my mistake. But the price for it was too high. Never had I disobeyed an order, but I had never been told I couldn’t have the one person I depended on for peace. Being born intom the southern mafia left you without a choice. It was simply a life you grew up in. You didn’t leave it. You lived it.

Staying away from Noa was asking too much of me. I’d tried, but my will was breaking along with my weak grip on my sanity. I was crossing lines that could get me killed, but even if she couldn’t see me, I had to protect her. Keep her safe. Do unsavory things to those who got too close or wanted what belonged to me.

Without her in my life, then the rest no longer mattered.