False Enemies

False Enemies

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WpMetadataReadOngoing1h 35m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Tue, Oct 20, 2020
*Coming home, I was positive nothing could make me sway. Little did I know there was still someone of whom one sight had me crumbling.* A year ago, I ran. Well, not literally. I got on a plane like a civilized person but the point is, I left my hometown without the intention of ever going back. And that is not even an exaggeration. Coming back home for the summer, I am not ready to face everything I hadn't thought I would see again, at least not until I graduate from university. I am not ready to explain why I'd left or face the consequences of my sudden departure. And I am definitely not ready to face him. A lot has changed when I've been gone. My parents are getting married for the second time. There is some illegal racing going on. And I'm pretty sure my used-to-be-best-friend hates me now. But what's worse? There are some things that haven't changed at all. And going through what I left behind again - feeling what I thought I would never feel again for someone I hoped I would never see again - might just be too much. He still has that bike. Those ever-present band shirts. That attitude. That piercing gaze. What he doesn't have anymore? Me. And it's going to stay this way.
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Book 2~𝔐𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔢 𝔑𝔢𝔯𝔬 The girl I'd kill for left me to die. Let that sink in. She walked out of that hospital and didn't even look back. Said she was done. Said we were over. Lied. She always lies pretty. I remember the way her footsteps faded down that hallway-quiet, quick, final. But I knew. She wasn't running from me. She was running from herself. And maybe I should hate her. Maybe I should've let the pain rot me from the inside out and buried the part of me that still aches for her. But I didn't. I still love her. God help me, I still fucking love her. I see her every time I close my eyes. Her skin on mine. Her voice in my ear, sweet and poisonous. I dream about her lying next to me-then wake up alone with blood on my knuckles and rage in my throat. There's not a single bone in my body that hates Donatella. But I'll never forgive her. And now? Now I'm crossing borders, spilling blood, burning everything in my path just to find her. Because I know she's out there. Hiding. Surviving. Trying to outrun the mess she left behind. But she won't outrun me. She's not walking away this time. Even if I have to drag her home kicking and screaming-she's coming back. With me. Or in pieces. 𖤐✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰ OMG! I'm so excited for Angela Della Morte book 2! This is all in Amirs POV, and possibly some brothers...

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