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Chapter six: Drowning in Mud
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2025-02-28 17:04:54Water slammed into Sienna’s chest, cold and black, clawing her down like it had teeth. She choked, lungs burning, kicking against the flood swallowing the basement. Roman’s hand locked around her arm, fingers digging in hard, dragging her through the mess toward where the stairs used to be. Her pocket sagged with the vial’s weight, that damn glass nagging her, and Ezra’s laugh still rang in her head—his smug ass waving the key like a prize.
“Grab something!” Roman shouted, voice torn over the rush, his other hand scrabbling at the wall’s edge, now just a crumbled lip of concrete. The water was winning, surging up her ribs, tugging at her soaked jacket. She gagged on it, tasting mud and salt, her arm screaming where the knife had cut—blood swirling red in the dark churn. “Grab what?” she yelled back, thrashing, boots slipping for any hold. His face was right there—wet hair plastered flat, eyes blazing dark and fierce, pinning hers like she was all that mattered. It hit her, that look, a jolt through the panic, and for a stupid beat, she pictured his mouth crashing into hers, messy and desperate. She stomped that thought flat, pissed at it. “There!” he barked, jerking his head up. A busted hole gaped above, where the stairs had caved, a dim flicker of light leaking through—maybe a way out, maybe more crap. He yanked her closer, their bodies slamming together in the flood, and she felt him—hard, warm, all muscle under drenched cloth. His arm hooked her waist, pulling tight, and her breath snagged, a dumb spark flaring she didn’t want to name. “Up,” he growled, shoving her toward the gap, hands gripping her hips, rough and hot through her jeans. It burned where he touched, a quick, dumb thrill she hated herself for feeling. She clawed at the edge, concrete cutting her palms, and hauled up, his push lifting her through. She hit the foyer floor hard, rolling onto broken glass and wood, coughing up water till her throat felt raw. The chandelier dangled above, half smashed, spitting light across the wreckage. Roman climbed out after, heavy and dripping, his coat ripped open at the shoulder. He landed near, his hand brushing her back as he caught his balance, and it lingered—just a second, warm and scraped-up, enough to make her twitch. “Ezra’s out,” he rasped, scanning the shadows, gun still in his fist. His voice was wrecked but solid, like he’d seen worse and walked away. “Took the key and bolted.” “Yeah, I noticed,” Sienna snapped, shoving wet bangs off her face, the vial heavy in her pocket. She stood, legs wobbly, and glared at him. “You let him waltz off. What’s the move now, hotshot?” He got up slow, looming over her, water running off his jaw. “Same as before,” he said, stepping close, boots crunching debris. “Crack that vial’s secret. What Dorian stuck you with.” His eyes flicked to her pocket, then up, holding hers too damn long—dark, digging in, like he could see through her. Her neck prickled, a flush she didn’t ask for, and it ticked her off how his closeness messed with her head. “Quit staring,” she muttered, turning sharp, but he grabbed her elbow, reeling her back—just enough to stop her dead. “Staring how?” he said, voice low, scratched raw, his grip warm through her sleeve. He was too near now, rain and leather smell hitting her hard, and her stomach did a stupid flip—hungry, reckless, wrong. “Like you’ve got me pegged,” she shot back, pulling free, but her words wobbled, betraying her. She stepped away, needing air that wasn’t thick with him. “We’ve got real trouble.” He didn’t push it, just watched, a glint in his eyes saying he knew she felt something—whatever it was. “Yeah,” he said after a beat, nodding toward the trashed hall. “Like that.” Sirens screamed closer, red and blue slashing through the broken windows, lighting the walls in streaks. Sienna’s gut clenched—cops could mean help or a bigger mess. She dug the vial out, holding it up, the red inside catching the glow. Yours, Sienna. Always was. Her blood, his blood—Dorian’s twisted game, and she was neck-deep. “We gotta—” she started, but a loud snap cut through, close and mean. The floor bucked, the house groaning like it was dying, and Roman yanked her toward the door as plaster crashed down. They stumbled out into the storm, mud sucking at her boots, rain stinging her face. Lightning ripped the sky, and Sienna froze—there, near the cliffs, a figure stood, key flashing in his hand as he turned, slipping into the dark. Ezra. But it wasn’t him that stopped her cold. Another shape loomed by the trees—taller, wider—eyes glinting mean and yellow, fixed on her like prey. “Who’s—” she got out, but Roman’s hand clamped her arm, dragging her back. “Move,” he said, voice hard, and the ground shook again, the cliff cracking, sliding into the sea with a roar, half the house tumbling after it.Related chapters
A Crown of Ashes Chapter 7: Static and Steel
The radio’s voice hung in the shack like smoke, low and warped—“Bring the vial. Cliff road, now—or he pays.” Sienna’s gut twisted, the vial a cold weight in her hand, her breath catching on the static’s last hiss. Roman stood stiff by the door, gun up, his eyes boring into hers—dark, steady, asking questions she didn’t have answers for. The twig snap outside hit like a slap, sharp and close, and her pulse kicked hard.“Who’s ‘he’?” she said again, voice low, rough, barely holding steady. She stepped toward Roman, the floor creaking under her boots, the air thick with damp and him—too close, too real.“Dunno,” he said, sharp and quiet, his head tilting toward the door. “But they’re here. Move back.” He shifted, putting himself between her and whatever was out there, his shoulder brushing hers—quick, firm, enough to spark a dumb flicker she shoved down fast.“No chance,” she snapped, pocketing the vial and grabbing a rusted poker from the stove. It was heavy, cold, better than nothing.
Last Updated : 2025-03-05A Crown of Ashes Chapter Eight: Heat in the hollow
The drizzle had faded, leaving the woods damp and quiet, the air thick with pine and the faint rot of wet earth. Sienna leaned against the shack’s warped wall, her breath fogging in the chill, the vial a cold lump in her pocket. Roman stood by the busted window, peering out, his silhouette sharp against the faint moonlight—broad shoulders, torn coat, too damn still for the mess they were in. The radio’s threat—“Bring the vial, or he pays”—still gnawed at her, but her mind was stuck somewhere else, pulled by the way he moved, the way he filled the space.“Anything out there?” she asked, voice low, rough from the cold, trying to shake the itch crawling up her spine. She rubbed her arms, the cut on her forearm stinging under crusted blood, but it wasn’t the pain nagging her—it was him, standing there like he owned the dark.He turned, slow, his eyes catching hers—dark, steady, cutting through the dim. “Nothing yet,” he said, voice low, gravelly, like he’d smoked too much or shouted too l
Last Updated : 2025-03-05A Crown of Ashes Chapter 9: Blood on the boards
The shack shook as the door rattled, a hard thud that snapped Sienna’s head up, her heart slamming against her ribs. That warped voice—“He’s bleeding already”—still echoed in her ears, cold and mean, and Roman stood there, gun raised, his eyes locked on her like she was the only thing in the room. The headlights outside cut through the cracked window, painting his face in harsh streaks—jaw tight, stubble dark, too damn steady when everything was spinning. “Get back,” he said, voice low, rough, cutting through the hum of the truck outside. He stepped toward the door, putting himself between her and it, and damn if it didn’t piss her off—how he acted like her shield, how it made her feel something she didn’t want to name. “No way,” she shot back, voice sharp, grabbing the poker again—cold, solid in her grip. “I’m not cowering while they play this out.” Her eyes flicked to his, and there it was—that look, dark and heavy, burning into her, and it hit her hard, low in her gut, a heat sh
Last Updated : 2025-03-06A Crown of Ashes chapter 10: Blood and Desire
Sienna’s boots crunched on dry pine needles, the shack a fading speck behind them as she and Roman cut deeper into the woods. The truck’s bloody mess was miles back, that scream still ringing in her skull, but the air here was still—too still—thick with the tang of sap and something sharper, like metal or smoke. Her fingers flexed around the vial in her pocket, its cold glass a tether to whatever hell Dorian had left her, and Roman walked ahead, his stride long and sure, gun tucked close, his silence loud enough to grate on her nerves.“Say something,” she snapped, voice low, cutting through the quiet. Her breath puffed in the chill, her jacket stiff with dried mud, and she hated how exposed she felt—out here, with him, no walls to lean on.He glanced back, eyes catching the faint starlight—dark, steady, peeling her open in a way that made her skin itch. “What’s to say?” he said, voice rough, low, like he’d swallowed gravel. “We’re moving. That’s it.” But there was a hitch in it, a c
Last Updated : 2025-03-06A Crown of Ashes Chapter one: Mud and Mahogany
Rain smashed into the earth like it wanted to bury the whole damn city, turning the graveyard into a sopping mess of mud and hunched figures clutching black umbrellas. Sienna Calder stood off to the side, her boots sinking into the muck, her old jacket—splattered with paint from a dozen late-night rants—sticking out like a middle finger among the somber suits. She wasn’t here to weep. She’d come to see the bastard in the ground for herself.Dorian Ashford’s coffin sat there, slick and shiny, all polished mahogany that hollered wealth even as it sank toward the dirt. The priest mumbled some nonsense about peace everlasting, his voice half-drowned by the storm, but Sienna didn’t hear a word. Her eyes were glued to that box, her jaw locked tight. Twenty-seven years of bile churned inside her. He’d left her mom to waste away in a rusted trailer, coughing up her last breaths, while he piled up his shipping billions—money built on the wreckage of the only person who’d ever given a damn ab
Last Updated : 2025-02-28A Crown of Ashes Chapter two: The weight of wet leather
The Rolls-Royce carved through the rain, a beast of a car cutting the night in half. Water streaked the blacked-out windows, looking like tears Sienna wouldn’t let fall. She sat stiff, spine like a steel rod, the folded letter from Dorian clenched in her fist till her knuckles ached. You’re not safe. Neither is he. Find the truth before they do. The lines scratched at her brain, a puzzle she didn’t want, a trap she couldn’t shake. Across from her, Vivienne gazed out at the city’s smeared lights, her perfect nails clicking a slow beat on the armrest—tap, tap, tap—like she was counting down to something. Roman sat next to Sienna, too damn still, like a coiled snake sizing up its next bite.“Where are we hauling ass to?” Sienna finally barked, her voice hacking through the heavy quiet. She wasn’t some doll they could drag wherever they pleased.Vivienne didn’t bother looking at her. “The estate,” she said, crisp and cold, like she was spitting out a fact everybody should know. “Your fa
Last Updated : 2025-02-28A Crown of Ashes Chapter three: Shadows
Sienna crashed to the marble floor, Roman’s hand jerking her down as glass shattered somewhere in the guts of the estate. Her elbow smashed into the stone, a jolt of pain shooting up her arm, but it got lost in the rush tearing through her. Footsteps pounded closer—fast, hard, stomping from the east side of the house. Too many boots, too much purpose. Her breath hitched, the silver key digging into her palm where she gripped it like a lifeline.“Keep your head down,” Roman growled, half-sprawled over her, like she was some fragile thing he had to cover. She shoved him off, hard, scrambling into a crouch, her soaked jacket clinging like a second skin.“I don’t need you playing shield,” she snapped, locking eyes with him. His cool mask was gone—those gray eyes burned dark now, wild and sharp. He didn’t waste breath arguing, just yanked a black pistol from his coat, the barrel catching the chandelier’s glow.“You’re packing?” Her voice jumped, sharp with shock and suspicion. “Who the he
Last Updated : 2025-02-28A Crown of Ashes Chapter four: The Devil's Smile
The scarred guy’s claps rang through the study, slow and nasty, each one hitting the walls like a slap in the face. Sienna’s arm burned where the knife had cut her, blood trickling down to the floor, but she barely noticed. Her eyes were stuck on him—tall, lean, that ugly scar twisting under his eye like a claw mark. His grin was sharp, wrong, holding her still even as Roman’s hand tightened on her shoulder, too damn tight.“Who are you?” she rasped, voice scraped raw, jerking free of Roman’s grip. She wasn’t about to shrink, not with a dead guy leaking foam at her boots and the silver key shining on the floor like a challenge.He tipped his head, looking her over like she was meat. “Ezra,” he said, smooth and slick, stepping past the busted doorframe. “Ezra Locke. And you’re Sienna Calder, the lost kid who’s in way over her head.” His eyes slid to Roman, still hunched by the body, gun in his fist. “Valtieri, you I figured I’d see. Always sniffing around the old man’s scraps.”Roman s
Last Updated : 2025-02-28
Latest chapter
A Crown of Ashes chapter 10: Blood and Desire
Sienna’s boots crunched on dry pine needles, the shack a fading speck behind them as she and Roman cut deeper into the woods. The truck’s bloody mess was miles back, that scream still ringing in her skull, but the air here was still—too still—thick with the tang of sap and something sharper, like metal or smoke. Her fingers flexed around the vial in her pocket, its cold glass a tether to whatever hell Dorian had left her, and Roman walked ahead, his stride long and sure, gun tucked close, his silence loud enough to grate on her nerves.“Say something,” she snapped, voice low, cutting through the quiet. Her breath puffed in the chill, her jacket stiff with dried mud, and she hated how exposed she felt—out here, with him, no walls to lean on.He glanced back, eyes catching the faint starlight—dark, steady, peeling her open in a way that made her skin itch. “What’s to say?” he said, voice rough, low, like he’d swallowed gravel. “We’re moving. That’s it.” But there was a hitch in it, a c
A Crown of Ashes Chapter 9: Blood on the boards
The shack shook as the door rattled, a hard thud that snapped Sienna’s head up, her heart slamming against her ribs. That warped voice—“He’s bleeding already”—still echoed in her ears, cold and mean, and Roman stood there, gun raised, his eyes locked on her like she was the only thing in the room. The headlights outside cut through the cracked window, painting his face in harsh streaks—jaw tight, stubble dark, too damn steady when everything was spinning. “Get back,” he said, voice low, rough, cutting through the hum of the truck outside. He stepped toward the door, putting himself between her and it, and damn if it didn’t piss her off—how he acted like her shield, how it made her feel something she didn’t want to name. “No way,” she shot back, voice sharp, grabbing the poker again—cold, solid in her grip. “I’m not cowering while they play this out.” Her eyes flicked to his, and there it was—that look, dark and heavy, burning into her, and it hit her hard, low in her gut, a heat sh
A Crown of Ashes Chapter Eight: Heat in the hollow
The drizzle had faded, leaving the woods damp and quiet, the air thick with pine and the faint rot of wet earth. Sienna leaned against the shack’s warped wall, her breath fogging in the chill, the vial a cold lump in her pocket. Roman stood by the busted window, peering out, his silhouette sharp against the faint moonlight—broad shoulders, torn coat, too damn still for the mess they were in. The radio’s threat—“Bring the vial, or he pays”—still gnawed at her, but her mind was stuck somewhere else, pulled by the way he moved, the way he filled the space.“Anything out there?” she asked, voice low, rough from the cold, trying to shake the itch crawling up her spine. She rubbed her arms, the cut on her forearm stinging under crusted blood, but it wasn’t the pain nagging her—it was him, standing there like he owned the dark.He turned, slow, his eyes catching hers—dark, steady, cutting through the dim. “Nothing yet,” he said, voice low, gravelly, like he’d smoked too much or shouted too l
A Crown of Ashes Chapter 7: Static and Steel
The radio’s voice hung in the shack like smoke, low and warped—“Bring the vial. Cliff road, now—or he pays.” Sienna’s gut twisted, the vial a cold weight in her hand, her breath catching on the static’s last hiss. Roman stood stiff by the door, gun up, his eyes boring into hers—dark, steady, asking questions she didn’t have answers for. The twig snap outside hit like a slap, sharp and close, and her pulse kicked hard.“Who’s ‘he’?” she said again, voice low, rough, barely holding steady. She stepped toward Roman, the floor creaking under her boots, the air thick with damp and him—too close, too real.“Dunno,” he said, sharp and quiet, his head tilting toward the door. “But they’re here. Move back.” He shifted, putting himself between her and whatever was out there, his shoulder brushing hers—quick, firm, enough to spark a dumb flicker she shoved down fast.“No chance,” she snapped, pocketing the vial and grabbing a rusted poker from the stove. It was heavy, cold, better than nothing.
A Crown of Ashes Chapter six: Drowning in Mud
Water slammed into Sienna’s chest, cold and black, clawing her down like it had teeth. She choked, lungs burning, kicking against the flood swallowing the basement. Roman’s hand locked around her arm, fingers digging in hard, dragging her through the mess toward where the stairs used to be. Her pocket sagged with the vial’s weight, that damn glass nagging her, and Ezra’s laugh still rang in her head—his smug ass waving the key like a prize.“Grab something!” Roman shouted, voice torn over the rush, his other hand scrabbling at the wall’s edge, now just a crumbled lip of concrete. The water was winning, surging up her ribs, tugging at her soaked jacket. She gagged on it, tasting mud and salt, her arm screaming where the knife had cut—blood swirling red in the dark churn.“Grab what?” she yelled back, thrashing, boots slipping for any hold. His face was right there—wet hair plastered flat, eyes blazing dark and fierce, pinning hers like she was all that mattered. It hit her, that look,
A Crown of Ashes Chapter five: Cold water, Hot lies
Ezra’s laugh lingered in the dark, sharp and low, creeping down the basement stairs like a chill Sienna couldn’t shake. Her chest heaved, heart banging against her ribs, her hand still buzzing from where she’d held the key—now gone, dropped in the black with that cursed vial. The air down here was heavy, wet, pressing too close, and Roman was right there, his breath rough on her neck, too damn near for comfort.“Don’t move,” he muttered, voice scraped low, his hand brushing her arm as he shifted—a quick graze, rough fingertips catching her skin. It hit her wrong, a flicker of heat she didn’t want, not now, not with him breathing down her neck like that.“Don’t move?” she shot back, sharp and quiet, jerking away from his touch. “He’s practically on us, you idiot.” She squinted into the nothing, eyes burning to see something—anything—but it was all shadow, thick and suffocating. The lights were dead, the cabinet’s guts spilled out, and Ezra’s boots scraped closer, slow and cocky, like h
A Crown of Ashes Chapter four: The Devil's Smile
The scarred guy’s claps rang through the study, slow and nasty, each one hitting the walls like a slap in the face. Sienna’s arm burned where the knife had cut her, blood trickling down to the floor, but she barely noticed. Her eyes were stuck on him—tall, lean, that ugly scar twisting under his eye like a claw mark. His grin was sharp, wrong, holding her still even as Roman’s hand tightened on her shoulder, too damn tight.“Who are you?” she rasped, voice scraped raw, jerking free of Roman’s grip. She wasn’t about to shrink, not with a dead guy leaking foam at her boots and the silver key shining on the floor like a challenge.He tipped his head, looking her over like she was meat. “Ezra,” he said, smooth and slick, stepping past the busted doorframe. “Ezra Locke. And you’re Sienna Calder, the lost kid who’s in way over her head.” His eyes slid to Roman, still hunched by the body, gun in his fist. “Valtieri, you I figured I’d see. Always sniffing around the old man’s scraps.”Roman s
A Crown of Ashes Chapter three: Shadows
Sienna crashed to the marble floor, Roman’s hand jerking her down as glass shattered somewhere in the guts of the estate. Her elbow smashed into the stone, a jolt of pain shooting up her arm, but it got lost in the rush tearing through her. Footsteps pounded closer—fast, hard, stomping from the east side of the house. Too many boots, too much purpose. Her breath hitched, the silver key digging into her palm where she gripped it like a lifeline.“Keep your head down,” Roman growled, half-sprawled over her, like she was some fragile thing he had to cover. She shoved him off, hard, scrambling into a crouch, her soaked jacket clinging like a second skin.“I don’t need you playing shield,” she snapped, locking eyes with him. His cool mask was gone—those gray eyes burned dark now, wild and sharp. He didn’t waste breath arguing, just yanked a black pistol from his coat, the barrel catching the chandelier’s glow.“You’re packing?” Her voice jumped, sharp with shock and suspicion. “Who the he
A Crown of Ashes Chapter two: The weight of wet leather
The Rolls-Royce carved through the rain, a beast of a car cutting the night in half. Water streaked the blacked-out windows, looking like tears Sienna wouldn’t let fall. She sat stiff, spine like a steel rod, the folded letter from Dorian clenched in her fist till her knuckles ached. You’re not safe. Neither is he. Find the truth before they do. The lines scratched at her brain, a puzzle she didn’t want, a trap she couldn’t shake. Across from her, Vivienne gazed out at the city’s smeared lights, her perfect nails clicking a slow beat on the armrest—tap, tap, tap—like she was counting down to something. Roman sat next to Sienna, too damn still, like a coiled snake sizing up its next bite.“Where are we hauling ass to?” Sienna finally barked, her voice hacking through the heavy quiet. She wasn’t some doll they could drag wherever they pleased.Vivienne didn’t bother looking at her. “The estate,” she said, crisp and cold, like she was spitting out a fact everybody should know. “Your fa
