zarawalter8

“Go away from me. Let me be, you monster!” Eira screamed, her voice echoing from behind the room she had closed herself on. Determined more than ever not to see him. She heaved, her chest rising and falling to the pain.”You took everything from me, Draven. You took everything from me!”



“Then take it back, Eira.” Draven called out possessively, “Hate me, fight me, do everything Eira, but don’t dare leave me. I won’t let you do that.”





…



Eira Katz’s world is ripped apart when she is abducted by Draven, a man blinded by grief and vengeance. Accused of murdering the only woman he ever loved—a woman carrying his child—Eira becomes the target of his rage. Held captive, she endures relentless torment, all for a crime she did not Commit.



But when the truth is revealed, the damage is already done. Draven has destroyed her life, killed the man she loved, and left her with nothing. As Eira grapples with the aftermath, she learns she is carrying his child, a bond neither of them can escape.i

Trapped in a cycle of vengeance, guilt, and reluctant dependency, Eira must decide whether to escape her captor or confront the broken man who refuses to let her go. But in a world where pain and passion collide, the line between love and hatred blurs.



Will Eira find freedom, or will she be forever bound to the man who took everything called life away from her?

The Mafia's Little Plaything

The walls of the safehouse were made of stone, but they couldn't stop the chill that crept into my bones.

I stood rooted to the spot as the creaky door opened, revealing the shadows of the rescue team… and behind them, limping, pale, and shaking,Kira.

I didn't realize I was holding my breath until it escaped my lungs in a strangled exhale.

She looked like death had flirted with her but hadn't committed. Her lips were dry and cracked. Her arm was bound in a blood-soaked bandage. Her once fierce eyes were dull, frightened, but they still locked onto mine like a plea.

I didn't move. I couldn't. There were too many words sitting like knives in my throat.

Two medics rushed her to a cot. I followed slowly, arms tight around my torso. She flinched as they unwrapped the hastily done bandage on her arm. The gunshot wound was ugly, angry, festering with rage,just like what boiled inside me.

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