KimberlyPaul

"I'm just saying," Vivienne replied, leaning against the doorframe, "walking into her turf uninvited might not be your best idea. She's dangerous. You said it yourself—people like her don't play games."

"Neither do I." There was no room for debate in his tone. He stepped past her, but she moved before him, her hand lightly grazing his arm.

****

In the underworld, power is seized by blood and loyalty is nothing but an illusion.

For Mira Callahan, vengeance is a promise, more than a prophecy—it's inherited. Raised in the shadows, where an entire empire was consumed by the deep darkness, she built herself piece by piece over the years into the ruthless commander of  The Black Reign. Her heart serves as armor; her past is a weapon. Nothing can penetrate the solid wall she has built—until he arrives.

Luca Moretti, however, is the ghost of her past: a man forged in violence, driven by obsession, and blind to the truths lurking beneath their history.

 As fate has it, their paths cross once again, forcing Mira to confront the one thing more dangerous than her enemies-her past with Luca.

He wants answers, she wants revenge, and in a world where love is a weakness and betrayal is inevitable, the only certainty is war.

She refuses to be caged. He refuses to let her go.

The problem? Luca’s greatest weakness has always been a woman who won’t kneel.


But in this game of power and betrayal, who will remain standing when the veil finally drops?

****

A story of obsession, power, and the fine line between love and ruin.When the game is over and you're on you're knees? Remember I warned you.
Vendetta Veil will leave you breathless until the very last page.

Vendetta Veil

This girl should only be a memory.

I yanked open the drawer, ignoring the mess of papers, old reports, and scattered remnants of things I once gave a damn about. This drawer was supposed to be a grave—where I buried everything that no longer mattered. Where I buried her.

My fingers froze when they brushed against the worn edges of a photograph.

I didn't need to look to know what it is.

Me and Mira—back when the world hadn't yet carved us into enemies.

At least if the leader of 'The Black Reign' is really her.

When we were just two lost kids, pressed together in the dim glow of streetlights, caught in a moment that never should have lasted. She had been smirking, that little fox-smile of hers, her eyes daring, teasing. And me—fuck, I almost looked happy.

I shoved the photo deeper into the drawer, suffocating the memory before it can sink its claws in.

I push past the clutter, the dust-coated past, until my fingers wrap around cool metal.

The weight of it is familiar. Too familiar.

I shouldn't still have this.

The small locket sat cold in my palm, its edges worn from years of being carried, turned over, and clenched in fists like a damn lifeline. I should have tossed it years ago. Should have melted it down, crushed it beneath my boot, let it burn like everything else she left in ruins.

Because despite everything, despite the hell she carved into my skin and left bleeding, a part of me still held on.

I run my thumb over the tiny engraving on the back—so faint now it's almost unreadable. A fox. Her mark. The only piece of her I still had, aside from the scars.

I closed my eyes, and for a second, I was not in this office, surrounded by power, by men who would kill at my word. I'm back there. Back in the cold, cracked pavement of the orphanage.

She had found me like she always did.

"Why do you always hide here?"

I should've told her to leave me the hell alone, but I never could with her. Instead, I asked, "Why do you always find me?"

Mira had smirked then, the same way she did every time she thought she was a step ahead of me. "Maybe I'm just good at finding things people want to keep hidden."

I let out a bitter laugh. She had no idea how right she was.

She sat next to me, close, like she belonged there, and pulled an apple from her pocket. Tossed it to me without a word. She always had a way of making things feel normal like the world wasn't as fucked up as it really was.

"You stole this?" I had asked.

She lied so easily. Even back then.

But she made me believe, even if just for a moment, that there was something good in the world. That maybe, just maybe, life wasn't just fists, fear, and blood in my mouth. She made me believe in something better.

I open my eyes, my grip tightening around the locket until the metal bites into my skin. My jaw clenches, rage burning through my chest like gasoline. She's the one who showed me that the world could be something more—something beyond survival, beyond cruelty. And then she ripped it away.

And now, she thinks she can stay hidden from me? That I won't find her? That I won't drag her back into the world she left me drowning in?

And this time, she won't be the one walking away.

The Locket.