Month: December 2025

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” The gruff edge of Jude’s voice makes needle-like goosebumps erupt on my skin. The heavy helmet on my head smells like him—leather, wood, and inescapable danger. It’s suffocating, but I still look around, searching for someone. Anyone who’d be able to save me. “Violet.” I grow still, my gaze flashing to

Acrushing weight smothers me, pulling me down so viciously, I gasp, my eyes flying open. At first, I think it’s sleep paralysis—that sickening awareness where my mind is awake but my body refuses to move. But it’s worse than that. A woman sits perched on my ribs like a demon, her seemingly skinny frame impossibly

My stalker has a vendetta against me. In reality, he’s not a stalker, but more like a man out for revenge. Jude Callahan. That’s the name of the man who’s been inserting himself into my unremarkable life lately. I googled him earlier, after I threw up upon seeing him on-screen. Jude Callahan is not only

Afew hours later, I’m somewhere I shouldn’t be. I should be home, but I don’t have one of those. My only home—my mother—was ripped from between my fingers in a gruesome scene. So here I am again. Tilting on the edge of violence, rage, and…something else I can’t quite pinpoint. I lean against my bike,

The end of the unofficial summer skate leaves me with…nothing. Just another flare of violence. Another burst of light. But then it’s all done. And I’m back to square one. Violent-less. With these goddamn urges still coursing through my veins with the blood. Slipping beneath every ridge of tense muscle, every scar, tattoo, and godforsaken

“Morning, Vi!” I flinch when slim arms hug me from behind, nearly making me spill the soup in the saucepan. Masking my nervousness, I turn to face my sister, who’s grinning wide. Dahlia is about a year younger than me, and even though we’re not related by blood—we met in my last foster home—she’s the

Someone’s watching me. Constantly. Overtly. The attention prickles the back of my neck like a thin, tiny needle delving deep beneath my skin. In the beginning, I thought it was one of the bar’s patrons who had a tendency to make me feel uncomfortable with their lingering gazes and ‘accidental’ touches. Or maybe it was