All Chapters of Sinner's Empire Series: Sin of Silence, A Silent Reckoning, Goodnight Sinners: Chapter 141 - Chapter 149

Shaun sucked in a breath as images from that day slammed through her. She had worked with her counsellor on mitigating their impact, but when the head of the Vor told her she was meant to be dead, it was like a fresh wound being ripped open again. "So I've been told," she murmured, bringing her teacup to her lips with a shaking hand. "You survived." He didn't sound either approving or disapproving, and Shaun wondered where the direction of the conversation was going. "You were poisoned, and you survived. You were attacked, stabbed, and you survived. Your husband was attacked, many within the building fell, yet you still survived." A chill ran through Shaun and she felt nauseous. She desperately wished she'd told Jozef where she was going. Was Ivan angry over the deaths that seemed to follow Shaun? Did he blame her for what happened to Krystoff? She didn't know what to say to Ivan, but he'd paused, seeming to expect some kind of response. "Yes, I survived."

Nikolay had a bad feeling. He'd had it for months, but when no one accused him of betraying Jozef, he'd shoved the feeling aside. They didn't know. He was safe. Then why did he feel like the sword of Damocles was hanging over his head, awaiting the right moment to drop? "Saskia." He'd been standing in the shadows outside her suite, waiting for her to appear. She was coming down the hall toward him, her blue headphones wrapped around her neck, her wild brown hair a messy halo around her head. She wore tight ripped jeans, a black hoodie and running shoes. It hit him that she was really quite beautiful in her own way. He'd never found her particularly attractive when they'd dated. She was too wild and headstrong, and he preferred his women compliant. Submissive. Not words one could use in association with Saskia Koba. Yet, in this moment, with the light of the sun behind her, she looked ethereal. He felt a moment of loss, but quickly shook it away. His

"Krystoff..." He moved closer to the bed. Dasha squinted against the harsh glaring light, but he still looked like nothing more than a shadow, frustratingly insubstantial. She knew it was him, though. She knew his shape, his scent, his touch... She'd poisoned him. More than once. She hadn't regretted it at the time, but she regretted it now. She worshipped him. She shouldn't have manipulated his love. Soon she would be with him again, and she would have to explain her actions and hope he could forgive her. Dasha had poisoned her first victim when she was five years old. Miss Anya. She'd hated her nursemaid. The woman was sour, dour, and no fun at all. She insisted Dasha wear dresses and always have her hair brushed. She was never allowed out if the weather was bad, and she was always made to complete her studies. If she didn't learn her letters, then she would get a sharp smack across the knuckles. Dasha had overheard her mot

Dasha woke with a start, the clicking of heels on the tiles of the hospital floor reminding her of muffled gunshots. She took several deep breaths, trying to calm her pounding heart. Slowly, painfully, she sat up, reaching for the water on her nightstand. The process was made awkward by her other hand being cuffed to the bed. She'd been transferred the day before. She'd waited as long as she could manage before finally giving away her condition. She'd been in so much pain, the poison twisting her guts; the fever raging through her that she'd raved with hallucinations. Screamed obscenities at the prison staff as they strapped her to a gurney and moved her. She took long sips of water, pulling it through the paper straw. It felt like heaven against a throat raw from days of vomiting. Her hand shook as she set the water down. Collapsing against the pillows, she forced herself to stay awake, to keep alert. She was here for a reason. Someone had poisoned her. Not some

Jozef sat in the window of his hut, looking out at the incredible cerulean blue of the ocean beyond. When Shaun had found out that Jozef had never spent time near the ocean, except briefly when he was on mission, she'd insisted they choose an oceanside setting for their honeymoon. It had been four months since Jozef had murdered his aunt, and he still thought about that moment. Her confessions, her reaction to his being there. He felt intense anger when he thought of her killing his parents and her attacks on Shaun, but time had given him a better perspective. She'd grown up in the mafia. She'd been highly intelligent and motivated. Like Jozef, like his uncle, like the best in the business. Perhaps if she'd been born a man, given her own organization to play god with, she might have channeled her abilities into better use. Her death made him think long and hard about himself. He wasn't much different. He killed too. She used death and destruction to manipulate w