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

Not the kind that kept you warm,this one scorched from the inside out. I stood with my hands clenched, jaw tight, back ramrod straight as I watched the medic finish bandaging Eira's wrist. Her lip was split, her knuckles bruised, and there was a darkening mark just beneath her collarbone that made my stomach twist.

I wanted to destroy something. Someone.

Instead, I stood there. Silent. Useless.

"Try to rest," the medic said softly before gathering his things and slipping out, leaving us in a room heavy with silence and truths that refused to stay buried.

She sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders tense, eyes distant. The bandage on her hand was too white, too clean, against the red bite of her bruises. My mouth opened, but nothing came out. What do you say to the woman who walked willingly into a trap for you?

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