He saved her life, and in return, she had to become his wicked witch. His chaos. His weapon. But being ride or die for someone like Wickman? That's a curse in itself. Because loyalty gets complicated when the devil wears the face of the man who owns you.

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"B-But no, why did you hit my mommy?!" The six year old boy whimpered to his dad, earning himself a hard slap onto his face. "Stop fucking crying, you are a boy you can't be shedding no tear like you some type of bitch, you hear me?" The father hovered his height over his son, winning dominance. "Now get ya soft ass on," and with that, Horace did as told, taking off in embarrassment. © A NARDO WICK FANFICTION.

BOOK ONE||Met you... 🫀✨ Made this