Hell's Angel (18+)
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- Parts 34
MatureOngoing4h 11m
Last published Sat, Apr 20, 2024
"She was the lightening and he was the fire that followed. Her anger was clear and precise, his would burn everything to the ground in one foul swoop."
...
Mikhail Ivonav is the heir to the Russian Bratva. His father was killed in a suspicious manner, leaving room for a waiting suitor to step in and take his mothers hand in marriage. By the time he was 15, he was the most successful assassin in his family, killing anyone and everyone he's been told to. Now, he has two feelings: Wrath and Despair, the rest he numbs with alcohol and pills.
Julie Makovich is the middle sibling of her cabal. Her father was an addict with nothing to do with her. Her mother is the head of the Assassins Guild, an organization made for the soul purpose of breeding women to be killers.
When his stepfather meets her mother, they're all too eager to marry the meddlesome middle daughter to the heir of the Bratva.
As they navigate their marriage, will they be able to see the cracks in the mold? The arrows pointing to betrayal?
Mature content.
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They handed her to me in a silk dress and diamond collar. The spoiled Sokolov princess. The executioner's daughter. My wife. Kira Sokolov dances in chaos like it's a language she invented- spinning through Paris in stilettos, kissing danger with blood-red lips, dragging her demons behind her like a designer coat. She was meant to be my obligation. A Bratva arrangement sealed in blood and silence. I never wanted a wife. Especially not one with wild eyes, bipolar swings, and a mouth that lives to drive me insane. But now she's mine. My problem. My obsession. And when she falls apart in my arms- with whispers to ghosts and bruised apologies- I'll burn kingdoms to keep her breathing. Because no one touches what belongs to Ivan Smirnov. Not the bratva. Not her past. Not even her own madness. She was born royalty. But she'll die as something else. Mine.Complete![Heart of Fury - Stone and Fire # 2 [17+]](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/349318920-256-k805469.jpg)
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ππ§ π°π‘π’ππ‘ π¬π‘π π¦ππ€ππ¬ π ππππ₯ π°π’ππ‘ ππ‘π πππ―π’π₯, ππ§π π©π«π¨π―ππ¬ ππ¨ ππ π°π¨π«π¬π ππ‘ππ§ ππ‘π π¦ππ§ π‘π’π¦π¬ππ₯π. . . . . . . . . . . We've all heard the tales of good and bad, the tales of innocent deceit and her hero, the tales that despite their nature, show us the beauty in contrast. But it's the tales of pure evil that get swept under the rug. The tales of deception, where cruelty is rewarded. The tales that have you questioning who the real villain of the story is. There's a simple philosophy to most thing in life; two wrongs π―π¦π·π¦π³ make a right. So what ensues when you put two of the worst kinds of people together? Loyalties transfer, lines blur, and hatred ignites complete chaos. She's cunning. ππ¦'π΄ π³πΆπ΅π©ππ¦π΄π΄. She's dangerous. ππ¦'π΄ π·πͺπ€πͺπ°πΆπ΄. She's evil. ππ¦'π΄ πΈπ°π³π΄π¦. Or so that's what we're told. The devil is always worse. But maybe, just maybe, she's the devil in disguise, playing his advocate... . . . . . . . . . . - πππ«π€ π«π¨π¦ππ§ππ - ππ§ππ¦π’ππ¬ ππ¨ π₯π¨π―ππ«π¬ - πππ«π«π’ππ π π¨π ππ¨π§π―ππ§π’ππ§ππ. -Complete
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Bratva's Bloodline Preface ο»ΏThey call me the lost Queen of the Bratva - the ghost who vanished, the woman her king bled the world to reclaim. You've heard the story, I'm sure. The queen who rose from ashes, and the ruthless man who would've burned heaven itself to bring her home. You probably think it ended there. That the war was over, that love conquered the darkness. But in the Bratva, there's no such thing as happily ever after. There are only ghosts wearing familiar faces, monsters hiding behind loyalty, and shadows that never stop watching. They linger - silent, patient - waiting for their moment to strike. Nikolai swore he'd be right behind me. He swore we'd be safe, together. But safety is just a prayer whispered into an empty room, and together was nothing more than a beautiful lie. A promise he broke the moment vengeance swallowed him whole. Now I have two tiny hearts that beat in rhythm with my fear. Two fragile souls who have never known the sound of their father's voice. Nikolai went dark - not the kind of darkness you come back from, but the kind that devours everything good in its path. Mikhail disappeared into the wind, and even Maksim doesn't know what his twin has become. The safe house became a tomb, its silence heavier than gunfire. Every breath felt like a countdown, every shadow a threat. So I did the one thing I swore I'd never do to the man I loved - I ran. But you can only outrun the Bratva for so long. And every promise, no matter how broken, has a way of finding you again.
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They handed her to me in a silk dress and diamond collar. The spoiled Sokolov princess. The executioner's daughter. My wife. Kira Sokolov dances in chaos like it's a language she invented- spinning through Paris in stilettos, kissing danger with blood-red lips, dragging her demons behind her like a designer coat. She was meant to be my obligation. A Bratva arrangement sealed in blood and silence. I never wanted a wife. Especially not one with wild eyes, bipolar swings, and a mouth that lives to drive me insane. But now she's mine. My problem. My obsession. And when she falls apart in my arms- with whispers to ghosts and bruised apologies- I'll burn kingdoms to keep her breathing. Because no one touches what belongs to Ivan Smirnov. Not the bratva. Not her past. Not even her own madness. She was born royalty. But she'll die as something else. Mine.
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