Page 186 of Uprising

My Roman. My husband. We’re bound together now. Till death us do part.

THE END

RECKONING BLURB

They broke me. Abused me. Treated me like trash and left me to die…

I survived everything they put me through and when my brother came back from the dead, I thought it was over.

I thought I could move on.

Except they’re still here, in Verona, they’re still living free and with every day that passes I feel that insult more and more.

And my abusers aren’t just going to trust I’ll keep my mouth shut. They start stalking me, start trying to turn my own family against me and then it’s game on.

They think I’m still some broken little thing. They think I’ll just roll over and die.

Except I’ve got claws now. Long f*cking claws.

I will have my revenge. I will have my vengeance.

Even if I have to make a pact with the devil to achieve it. Even if I have to sell myself to Koen Diaz himself.

SNEAKY PEEK AT RECKONING:

A TWISTED LOVE STANDALONE STORY

Sofia

Ishouldn’t be here. That’s the thought that keeps echoing in my head.

That I have to stop. That I need to stop.

Turnaround Sofia. Turnaround you utter fool.

Only I don’t. I just keep my pace, creeping through the darkness like I’m some sort of avenging angel.

But that’s not what I am is it?

I’m not anything remotely close to angelic anymore. Not after what they did to me. Not after what they put me through. I used to be a good person, considerate, despite how my family and I suffered, I still believed that the world was a good place.

And then Otto Montague happened.

I grit my teeth burying the wave of emotion that rises up at the mere thought of that man’s name.

Ahead a street lamp flickers. I pause, watching as my would be target comes to a stop and I press myself flat against the damp brick of a building.

I had to take this chance. I didn’t know when I would see the bastard again. If I would see him. I didn’t even know his name, we’d never been introduced. After all, who makes introductions in the kind of situation I was forced in? No, I wasn’t going to let him slip through my fingers. Wasn’t going to let him continue to live his life like none of it happened.

As soon as he starts moving so do I. Around the corner, into the yard of some construction company.

It’s hard not to smile. It’s hard not to let out a laugh because I couldn’t have picked a more perfect place if I tried. It’s away from the street. Away from any would be bystanders. Would be witnesses.

I grip the knife firmer in my hand. My eyes fix on him. One firm strike will be enough to bring him under my control and after that I can take my sweet time. The way he did with me. The way he brutalised and tortured my drug addled body as my monster of a husband stood by and laughed.

I take a bigger step. Then another closing the distance. Just as I get within striking distance he turns and our eyes connect.

He must recognise me. He must.

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