"There are several kinds of love. One is a selfish, mean, grasping, egotistical thing which uses love for self-importance. This is the ugly and crippling kind. The other is an outpouring of everything good in you-of kindness and consideration and respect-not only the social respect of manners but the greater respect which is recognition of another person as unique and valuable. The first kind can make you sick and small and weak but the second can release in you strength, and courage and goodness and even wisdom you didn't know you had." Includes Mature Content | 18+

"Why do you care?" he asks. But it's not soft. It's sharp, defensive, like he's already bracing for the answer. I want to tell him the truth. Because you saved me. Because you're the only one who makes me feel real. Because if you fall apart, I don't know what happens to the rest of us. Instead, I just say, "Maybe I want to understand." He scoffs, no humor in it. "You don't. Trust me." Silence stretches between us. Then he steps forward, close enough that I can see the way his hands won't stop shaking. "You already know too much," he says, voice low. "More than you ever should've." I don't look away. "Then tell me the rest." He shakes his head. "It's not your place. You don't get to ask." "But I am asking." He exhales sharply. "Jesus, Lily. This isn't a story with a clean ending. I'm not a mystery. I'm a goddamn warning sign. I'm dangerous." I flinch, but I don't move. And that pisses him off more. He takes a step back like he's going to leave, then pauses. His eyes flick to my jacket. In one quick motion, he reaches in and pulls out the burner phone. "I think this belongs to me," he says, tone sharp but quiet. No accusation. Just fact. I don't respond. Just watch as he slips it into his pocket, like closing a door I wasn't supposed to open. He looks at me for one long second, jaw clenched. "Go home," he says again, this time like a warning. And this time, I believe him. He crushes the cigarette under his boot, turns his back, and walks down the alley, leaving me standing in the dark. - Lily didn't ask to be assigned to him. Harry Styles is a name whispered like a warning, famous for his ink, infamous for everything else. Brooding. Untouchable. But Lily has a habit of looking too closely. And when she finds something she shouldn't, the line between curiosity and consequence begins to blur. He told her to stay away. She should've listened. - TW: emotional abuse, manipulation, drugs, sex, violence, trauma.

"In silent screams, in wildest dreams, I never dreamed of this."

"We only met 24 hours ago and I already couldn't remember what it was like to not know that he existed. And now, I wasn't so sure I could ever handle not knowing him again."

"You'd be wise to tell me the truth. Which racer would the Circuit rather see dead?" "Redline." --- The Circuit is the top name in underground car racing - an elite, globally connected syndicate operating secretly beneath multiple polished fronts. Each season, it attracts blacklisted professional racers, unknown talents, and secret donors who are all chasing high-stake wins on illegal, unpredictable tracks. With a new season approaching, the racing world remains unsettled by the shocking conclusion to last year's run - and the role Harry Styles played in it. Known as Redline, his reputation was built on unmatched speed and precision. But a collision at the final race ended his most recent season just short of the win, and rumors suggest he hasn't quite recovered. Still, his brand can't afford to disappear. If he can't race, Redline still has to. He needs a ghost driver; someone who can match his skill, win under his name, and navigate the pressure the Circuit demands. Val has several lurking issues of her own. As a getaway driver for organized criminals, her life depends on speed, discretion, and skill. When she betrays a top client, she needs a way out - and fast. Unbeknownst to her, an offer is already lingering nearby. Deals are made. Obstacles lurk in each city. And two stubborn individuals must work together to ensure that Redline finishes this next season on top.

It was only supposed to be one night. One stupid night. One broken heart. One dimpled boy. And half a bottle of tequila. One night was all it took to turn her whole world upside down. EXCERPT FROM ONE NIGHT: Harry laughed softly into her mouth, "That's a good sound." He pulled back just enough to look at her, brushing a piece of hair out of her face with a tenderness that made her chest ache. He looked at her like he saw her, really saw her. And she'd never known what that felt like until now. "Beautiful," he whispered. Mae blushed-actually blushed-and tried to cover her face with her hands. Harry grinned, catching her wrists and tugging them gently away. "Uh-uh. I wanna see." She was already a puddle. He kissed her again, pinning her hands above her head this time, and the shift in power made her pulse race. His mouth moved to her neck, soft and slow, making her shiver. "When do you leave?" he murmured, kisses trailing toward her collarbone. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "Train's at one. It's just after ten now." Harry smirked, lifting his head. "Plenty of time, then."