Veil Of Thorns
- Reads 307
- Votes 60
- Parts 25
MatureOngoing3h 34m
Last published Sun, Apr 12, 2026
Enemies by blood. Bound by fate. Destroyed by love.
They were childhood frenemies.
Eight years apart did nothing to bury the hatred... or the heat.
Zoe Fischer thought she buried the Volkov name the night Killian disappeared without a trace - the night he left her bleeding and broken with the taste of heartbreak still fresh on her tongue.
Now, eight years later, he's back - darker, crueler, and more dangerous than any memory she's ever held onto.
He's her new college classmate.
Her group project partner.
Her walking, breathing nightmare.
Hatred is a thin veil hiding something darker.
Something forbidden.
Something that curls around her throat whenever he gets too close-
...whispering promises of pain, pleasure, and the kind of obsession that always ends in ruin.
He still knows exactly how to break her.
How to own her.
How to turn her body into his favorite weapon-
...even if she swore she'd never fall for him again.
---
Enemies by blood.
Addicted by fate.
Bound by something neither of them were ever supposed to survive.
Zoe Fischer was born into blood and betrayal - the porcelain daughter of a mafia empire destined to hate the boy who would one day ruin her.
Killian Volkov was a storm wrapped in cigarette smoke and a mouth that promised violence - the Russian prince she was sworn to destroy.
They were never meant to touch.
They were never meant to fall.
But when obsession tastes like sin and the only way out is through him...
How do you kill the villain when he's the one who taught you how to be one?
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Her anchor. Her solace. Her Husband. He is the stillness in her whirlwind. Nikolai Adrian Petrov, the supreme head of the wicked Bratva brotherhood in Russia, a notorious strategist of the Cosa Nostra, and an emotionally detached, and manipulative lawyer. Everyone envied him for the power he held, and the mystery that clung to him like a second skin. Behind closed doors, he built empires from shadows, orchestrating chaos. He embraces twisted and cunning behavior. He wore control like a tailored suit. Some said he had no heart. Others believed he buried it long ago beneath layers of logic and ice. No one dares and want to cross paths with him; it's a cold embrace of oblivion. The grave they won't escape. His life. His haven. His Wife. She is the calm in his chaos. Svetlana Katerina D'Bianchi, a former successful super model and a hobbyist artist. She's an alluring and decisive woman. She makes her own rules, makes her own way and makes no apologies. She knows what she wants and how to tame it, when to work the angles and when to work her curves. Yet, all of that was cruelly snatched from her by her devious husband. · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · They married not for love, but for reasons unclear, Two lives intertwined, yet distant, sincere. No passion, no warmth, no promises spoken, Just quiet routines and hearts left broken. But time, like the seasons, has its own way, And where there was nothing, something began to stay. A bond slowly grew, soft and undefined, Love blossomed, though hesitant, hard to find. Then fate turned cruel, its hand so cold, Shattering what once had begun to unfold. Blame took root where once hope had bloomed, And silent hearts in bitterness loomed. Years passed in shadows, both trapped in their grief, Wounds left untended, no relief. Until a whisper came, with quiet despair-A truth so fragile, a truth laid bare. Time, once endless, now runs thin, Can love survive, or is this the end?
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