Dare “Move in,” I ordered, through the comms. Like a ripple in the water, my men moved. Armed to the teeth, dressed in black. The first wave hit the perimeter. Twelve men were stationed outside—some lounging near the front gate, a few patrolling the grounds, and others lingering near the back door smoking cigarettes, unaware. At the front, Marco and Theo led the charge. Marco tackled the first guard, slamming his head against the stone wall so hard he crumpled to the ground unconscious. Theo followed, pulling his silenced pistol from his hip and putting two guards down before they even realized what was happening. Behind the house, two of my best snipers, Ivan and Rick, took position on the neighboring rooftop. The faint glint of their scopes caught the moonlight just before two muffled shots rang out. The two guards by the back entrance dropped without a sound, their bodies slumping to the ground. A guard near the garage heard the thud and turned, his hand going for his g
DarePain is a funny thing. It’s loud and quiet all at once. It roars through my body, twisting and burning, but at the same time, there’s a stillness, a numbness creeping in. My chest feels heavy, the warm wetness of blood soaking into my shirt, the scent thick in the air. But none of that really registers—not the pain, not the blood, not the dizziness creeping in.Because the only thing I can focus on is the fact that she pulled the trigger.Sky shot me.The realization hits harder than the bullet.I keep replaying the moment in my head—the way her eyes darkened with something I couldn’t recognize, the way she raised the gun without a hint of hesitation. She had aimed straight at me, her hands steady, her breathing even.She knew exactly what she was doing.She wanted to hurt me.And then she left.She didn’t look back.She stormed out of the room, the sound of the gunshot still echoing in the walls, and I couldn’t move, couldn’t even call out to her. Maybe I was too stunned. Maybe
Sky’s hands trembled as she pushed open the door to her father’s office, the familiar scent of old paper and cedar hitting her like a wave. The room was just as she remembered—dark wood, shelves packed with books he never read, and that heavy oak desk where he spent most of his days, more a monument to his presence than a workspace. But now, it felt cold. Empty.Her eyes stung, but she blinked the tears away, forcing herself to breathe. Not here. Not yet.“Miss Sky,” a voice broke the silence, smooth and careful.Sky turned to see her father’s secretary standing by the window, hands folded neatly in front of him. Mr. Bennett. His eyes were soft with pity, his posture respectful but rigid. He’d worked for her father for as long as she could remember, always precise and collected. Now, that same calm steadiness almost cracked the fragile control she had over herself.“I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said, his voice low and measured.Sky managed a nod, her throat too tight for words.Mr.
Author’s pov; Sky’s hands trembled as she pushed open the door to her father’s office, the familiar scent of old paper and cedar hitting her like a wave. The room was just as she remembered—dark wood, shelves packed with books he never read, and that heavy oak desk where he spent most of his days, more a monument to his presence than a workspace. But now, it felt cold. Empty. Her eyes stung, but she blinked the tears away, forcing herself to breathe. Not here. Not yet. “Miss Sky,” a voice broke the silence, smooth and careful. Sky turned to see her father’s secretary standing by the window, hands folded neatly in front of him. Mr. Bennett. His eyes were soft with pity, his posture respectful but rigid. He’d worked for her father for as long as she could remember, always precise and collected. Now, that same calm steadiness almost cracked the fragile control she had over herself. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said, his voice low and measured. Sky managed a nod, her throat
Dare’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. The engine low, His car was parked a little ways down the street, just far enough to be hidden but close enough to see the house—two-story with faded blue shutters and flower boxes beneath the windows.His gaze drifted to the second floor, to the window with the pale curtains half-drawn. Her room. Dare exhaled slowly, breath fogging up the glass, and ran a hand over his face. He shouldn’t be here. He knew that. But knowing didn’t make it any easier to turn around, to press the gas and drive away. Not when she was right there.Through the curtain, he could see her silhouette—slim shoulders, hands trembling as they wiped at her face. Sky was still in black, the dress loose around her, sleeves falling over her knuckles. It made her look small, almost fragile. Dare’s chest ached at the sight. She was crying, her head bowed.His heart wrenched , the urge to get out, to go to her, was overwhelming. To climb those steps, and knock until she a
Sky stared at the ceiling, shadows stretching long and thin in the dark, the silence pressing heavy and absolute. The sheets were cold beneath her fingertips, twisted and crumpled from restless tossing, but sleep wouldn’t come—hadn’t come for days now, not since the funeral, not since the world had cracked open beneath her feet and swallowed everything whole.She squeezed her eyes shut, breath shaky, but all she could see was him. Dare. The look in his eyes—stunned and raw and something else she hadn’t wanted to see, not then, not with her pulse pounding loud in her ears and the gun heavy in her hands. Not with rage roaring hot and wild in her veins, drowning out the pain, the grief, the guilt.Her fingers twitched, nails biting into her palms, throat tight. Maybe she’d been too harsh. Maybe the words had been too sharp, too cruel, laced with venom and blame that had no right to be there. Maybe she shouldn’t have screamed that it was his fault—that her father’s blood was on his hands,
Sky I hold my mouth shut with my hands as I shiver watching the horror unfold in front of me. Secluded in such a dark area had hidden me from participating in the trauma of my life but my eyes were not shielded from it as I watched it all unfold. Standing in the room was five men, four of them dressed in black while one of them, tall and husky wore a grey pant and a black shirt, his build was bigger despite being hidden under that oversized shirt. A couple of inches taller than all the men in the room, it was easy to know he was the leader of the group. Right in the middle of them was the Klaus family, his wife and his 24 year old daughter who was the same age as me. “Do you have any idea who I am?” Mr Klaus demanded, his breathing heaved. His eyes daring as he stared at the men before him. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t” the man replied, he leaned on the wall with his left leg raised up. A smug look on his face as he flicked through his fingers. “How dare you co
Sky I am standing in front of a bed in a room filled with lavender scent, a vanity table adjacent to the dressing area, the surface adorned with trinkets and treasures. A pair of curtains flutter in the breeze, the green folds pushed to each corner allowing the rays of sunlight into the room. He stands behind me, his gaze lingers, unwavering, sending a shiver down my spine. As if he could see the layers underneath the clothing. A tremor courses through my fingers, I try to stay calm but fail helplessly, fear and uncertainty grips me, making me rethink my decision. Should I have just died like the others, should I have ended my fate right there when I was caught. No, I don’t want to die. His shadow stood enormous on the bed almost like I had disappeared into him, I was nothing but a fragile and petite girl standing close to his figure. I could hear the sound of cushion bring pressed backwards, strange enough that my hearing was at its highest peek when my life i
Sky stared at the ceiling, shadows stretching long and thin in the dark, the silence pressing heavy and absolute. The sheets were cold beneath her fingertips, twisted and crumpled from restless tossing, but sleep wouldn’t come—hadn’t come for days now, not since the funeral, not since the world had cracked open beneath her feet and swallowed everything whole.She squeezed her eyes shut, breath shaky, but all she could see was him. Dare. The look in his eyes—stunned and raw and something else she hadn’t wanted to see, not then, not with her pulse pounding loud in her ears and the gun heavy in her hands. Not with rage roaring hot and wild in her veins, drowning out the pain, the grief, the guilt.Her fingers twitched, nails biting into her palms, throat tight. Maybe she’d been too harsh. Maybe the words had been too sharp, too cruel, laced with venom and blame that had no right to be there. Maybe she shouldn’t have screamed that it was his fault—that her father’s blood was on his hands,
Dare’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. The engine low, His car was parked a little ways down the street, just far enough to be hidden but close enough to see the house—two-story with faded blue shutters and flower boxes beneath the windows.His gaze drifted to the second floor, to the window with the pale curtains half-drawn. Her room. Dare exhaled slowly, breath fogging up the glass, and ran a hand over his face. He shouldn’t be here. He knew that. But knowing didn’t make it any easier to turn around, to press the gas and drive away. Not when she was right there.Through the curtain, he could see her silhouette—slim shoulders, hands trembling as they wiped at her face. Sky was still in black, the dress loose around her, sleeves falling over her knuckles. It made her look small, almost fragile. Dare’s chest ached at the sight. She was crying, her head bowed.His heart wrenched , the urge to get out, to go to her, was overwhelming. To climb those steps, and knock until she a
Author’s pov; Sky’s hands trembled as she pushed open the door to her father’s office, the familiar scent of old paper and cedar hitting her like a wave. The room was just as she remembered—dark wood, shelves packed with books he never read, and that heavy oak desk where he spent most of his days, more a monument to his presence than a workspace. But now, it felt cold. Empty. Her eyes stung, but she blinked the tears away, forcing herself to breathe. Not here. Not yet. “Miss Sky,” a voice broke the silence, smooth and careful. Sky turned to see her father’s secretary standing by the window, hands folded neatly in front of him. Mr. Bennett. His eyes were soft with pity, his posture respectful but rigid. He’d worked for her father for as long as she could remember, always precise and collected. Now, that same calm steadiness almost cracked the fragile control she had over herself. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said, his voice low and measured. Sky managed a nod, her throat
Sky’s hands trembled as she pushed open the door to her father’s office, the familiar scent of old paper and cedar hitting her like a wave. The room was just as she remembered—dark wood, shelves packed with books he never read, and that heavy oak desk where he spent most of his days, more a monument to his presence than a workspace. But now, it felt cold. Empty.Her eyes stung, but she blinked the tears away, forcing herself to breathe. Not here. Not yet.“Miss Sky,” a voice broke the silence, smooth and careful.Sky turned to see her father’s secretary standing by the window, hands folded neatly in front of him. Mr. Bennett. His eyes were soft with pity, his posture respectful but rigid. He’d worked for her father for as long as she could remember, always precise and collected. Now, that same calm steadiness almost cracked the fragile control she had over herself.“I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said, his voice low and measured.Sky managed a nod, her throat too tight for words.Mr.
DarePain is a funny thing. It’s loud and quiet all at once. It roars through my body, twisting and burning, but at the same time, there’s a stillness, a numbness creeping in. My chest feels heavy, the warm wetness of blood soaking into my shirt, the scent thick in the air. But none of that really registers—not the pain, not the blood, not the dizziness creeping in.Because the only thing I can focus on is the fact that she pulled the trigger.Sky shot me.The realization hits harder than the bullet.I keep replaying the moment in my head—the way her eyes darkened with something I couldn’t recognize, the way she raised the gun without a hint of hesitation. She had aimed straight at me, her hands steady, her breathing even.She knew exactly what she was doing.She wanted to hurt me.And then she left.She didn’t look back.She stormed out of the room, the sound of the gunshot still echoing in the walls, and I couldn’t move, couldn’t even call out to her. Maybe I was too stunned. Maybe
Dare “Move in,” I ordered, through the comms. Like a ripple in the water, my men moved. Armed to the teeth, dressed in black. The first wave hit the perimeter. Twelve men were stationed outside—some lounging near the front gate, a few patrolling the grounds, and others lingering near the back door smoking cigarettes, unaware. At the front, Marco and Theo led the charge. Marco tackled the first guard, slamming his head against the stone wall so hard he crumpled to the ground unconscious. Theo followed, pulling his silenced pistol from his hip and putting two guards down before they even realized what was happening. Behind the house, two of my best snipers, Ivan and Rick, took position on the neighboring rooftop. The faint glint of their scopes caught the moonlight just before two muffled shots rang out. The two guards by the back entrance dropped without a sound, their bodies slumping to the ground. A guard near the garage heard the thud and turned, his hand going for his g
SkyThe warmth of the bed tempts me to stay wrapped up in it a little longer, but the soft weight of someone’s gaze pulls me from sleep. My lashes flutter open, and for a moment, I’m caught between dreams and reality. Then, I see him—Dare, lying next to me, his dark eyes watching me with an intensity that makes my heart stutter.He’s never here when I wake up. He’s always in his study, working before the sun even fully rises. But today, he’s here, his arm resting on the pillow, his head propped up slightly as he watches me.I blink at him in sleepy confusion before a small smile tugs at my lips. “Good morning.” My voice is soft, still thick with sleep.“Good morning,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a small smile.I stretch, my body still sluggish from sleep, and let my fingers brush against his arm. “Were you watching me sleep?” I tease, tilting my head at him.He smirks slightly but doesn’t deny it. “Didn’t notice I was until now.”I roll my eyes but can’t help the way my chest w
SkyThe warmth of the bed tempts me to stay wrapped up in it a little longer, but the soft weight of someone’s gaze pulls me from sleep. My lashes flutter open, and for a moment, I’m caught between dreams and reality. Then, I see him—Dare, lying next to me, his dark eyes watching me with an intensity that makes my heart stutter.He’s never here when I wake up. He’s always in his study, working before the sun even fully rises. But today, he’s here, his arm resting on the pillow, his head propped up slightly as he watches me.I blink at him in sleepy confusion before a small smile tugs at my lips. “Good morning.” My voice is soft, still thick with sleep.“Good morning,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a small smile.I stretch, my body still sluggish from sleep, and let my fingers brush against his arm. “Were you watching me sleep?” I tease, tilting my head at him.He smirks slightly but doesn’t deny it. “Didn’t notice I was until now.”I roll my eyes but can’t help the way my chest w
SkyThe warmth of the bed tempts me to stay wrapped up in it a little longer, but the soft weight of someone’s gaze pulls me from sleep. My lashes flutter open, and for a moment, I’m caught between dreams and reality. Then, I see him—Dare, lying next to me, his dark eyes watching me with an intensity that makes my heart stutter.He’s never here when I wake up. He’s always in his study, working before the sun even fully rises. But today, he’s here, his arm resting on the pillow, his head propped up slightly as he watches me.I blink at him in sleepy confusion before a small smile tugs at my lips. “Good morning.” My voice is soft, still thick with sleep.“Good morning,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a small smile.I stretch, my body still sluggish from sleep, and let my fingers brush against his arm. “Were you watching me sleep?” I tease, tilting my head at him.He smirks slightly but doesn’t deny it. “Didn’t notice I was until now.”I roll my eyes but can’t help the way my chest w