Ashes Of The City
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Elara Quinn couldn't remember when running stopped being escape and became instinct.
She had slept in broken sheds, woken with dirt on her face and someone else's blood on her hands.
Her village still clung to her skin like smoke.
Raven Hollow wasn't home.
It was a place where questions died before they reached her.
A city that didn't greet her-just watched.
The alleys were wrong.
Too quiet.
Too loud.
Every shadow felt like it was whispering her name.
She kept her head down.
It didn't matter.
Eyes had already found her.
She felt Damon Blackwell before she ever saw him-
a shift in the air, a silent promise of danger settling on her spine.
Then came Cassian Ward.
His gaze held no curiosity-just a cold, broken calm of a man who'd destroyed more than he'd ever saved.
Their eyes met once.
It was enough.
He wasn't safe.
None of this was.
Streets twisted behind her.
Whispers followed.
Old memories crawled out of the dark.
She came to disappear.
Raven Hollow wanted to study her instead.
And two predators had already marked the girl who tried so hard not to exist.
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[ON HOLD] Sloane doesn't love. She doesn't even try. Girls come and go- useful until they're boring, discarded the moment they start to cling. Control is the only thing that matters, and it has always been hers. Until Elara. Dark-eyed. Sharp. Calculated. A woman who strips Sloane bare with nothing more than a look, who takes control without asking, who makes submission feel less like a choice and more like inevitability. What begins as a game of power becomes an obsession neither of them can walk away from. For the first time, Sloane isn't the one pulling the strings-she's caught in them. This isn't love. This isn't safe. This is control. Twisted. Consuming. Addictive.
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