Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 1 - Chapitre 5

"𝔖𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔡𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔥𝔞𝔱𝔢, 𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔯𝔢, 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯, 𝔩𝔲𝔰𝔱, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔰—𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢."— 𝔲𝔫𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴𝔫.Fucking a stranger in the washroom of a hospital while my classmate’s stepfather lay dying in the ER has to be my worst sin. But let me back up a bit, because this story starts with a bang—well, not that kind of bang.It starts with me, Camilla Dawson, sitting in the hospital lounge, tapping my foot impatiently. I hate hospitals. The odd chemical smell, the beeping machines, the constant reminder of mortality. I promised myself I’d never set a foot here again after finally being free of the regular visits. But here I am, waiting for news about Claire’s stepfather, because that's what friends do.And maybe my presence here tonight will finally convince her that I care about her. I’ve failed to keep the act up lately.Truth be told, I think it's better if the man kicks the bucket. He's a total dick, always making Claire

"ℑ 𝔰𝔞𝔴 𝔪𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔠 𝔦𝔫 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰. 𝔇𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔶, 𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔨, 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔪𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔠." — 𝔑𝔦𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔢 𝔏𝔶𝔬𝔫𝔰[CAMI]The bass thrums through my veins as I sip my drink, leaning against the bar. The club is just loud enough, just wild enough—exactly what I need tonight. No overthinking, no stress, no impending disaster looming over me. Just music, a drink, and the chance to momentarily forget about the corporate world that I have to dive into again tomorrow.Claire leans into me, her blonde waves brushing against my shoulder as she nudges me with her elbow. “Cami, maroon shirt, two o'clock. He's staring at you.”I roll my eyes but can’t help the slight lift of my lips. Claire has this awful habit of playing matchmaker whenever we go out. Still, I glance over my shoulder, keeping it casual. And, well—hello, tall, dark, and fine. The guy oozes confidence, one corner of his mouth tilting into a smirk as he raises his glass in a silent toast. Then… he winks.Oh, fantastic. An

"𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔰 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔨 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱 ℑ 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔡."— 𝔲𝔫𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴𝔫.[ZEKE]The crying is starting to piss me off.Elio’s wife hasn’t shut up since the bullet tore through her husband’s skull. It wasn’t even a messy shot—clean, precise, almost surgical. He didn’t suffer. I could’ve made it worse, but I’m not feeling particularly cruel today.I slide the gun back into my jacket, welcoming it back against my ribs like an old friend. My eyes trail lazily to the body on the floor. Elio’s eyes are wide open, lips parted like he still thinks he can talk his way out of this. He can’t. Not anymore.Marco crouches down beside him, clicking his tongue. “Carpet cost too much,” he mutters, poking at the blood pooling under Elio’s head. “Stupid prick couldn’t even bleed somewhere convenient.” Milo joins him, and together they carry the body outside. His wife in the corner is still sobbing—those dry, hiccuping cries that have lost their edge. That first wave of pani