Wicked Promises

r forehead, but it did little

ed by the bruised lavender of an approaching dusk. The city buzzed below-horns, sirens, ca

blend with the blurred sk

ehind her, as though he hadn't just signed away her li

. "You said I'd

ou were nearly killed last night. I will not

her throat. "Isn't that

. The way he always got when she broke character. "You're not g

like shattered glass. "To another of your secret bun

ensed. "T

linked. "

protection of someone

oked general? Another skeleto

e said e

no Mor

ed like a pun

ge laced with disbelief. "Jesus Christ, Dad. He's a ghost sto

ful enough to keep you a

trembling-not with fear, but

like his morals had years ago. "Because I'd rather have you in the lion's den wi

retched between them

t a paw

ce on the board, Isadora. The only differenc

to cry, to break every mirror in the house just so sh

ead, she

house, survival always

crew, sterile air. It could've flown her to heave

essed her forehead to the oval window, watching t

no Mo

painted him as many things: assassin, billionaire, recluse. No one really knew where he wa

'd never met was about

e her ex

icily was black, armored, and d

ked into the earth like secrets. Then came the gates-wrought iron, ancient and sprawling. The

ught in her throat

oss her bare arms like blades. Th

n he ap

lacks, sleeves rolled to his forearms. His face-God, his face-was carved from storm clouds

he looked through he

ting. N

sil

a word and disappe

aightened h

is the l

e was