Running from hell isnʼt easy. Especially when thereʼs someone dragging you back down into it.
Belligerent, brash and always in shades of black, Freya is hardly a lady. Hidden away by her father, sheʼs lived a normal life despite being born into the...
I know Iʼve been missing for some time, Iʼm currently trying to publish Torment after many of you guys requested a physical copy of the book. if you are able to, please donate to my publishing fund! you can find the link in my bio on wattpad and on instagram. thank you for your endless support! <3
xoxo Rhia
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I’M IN THE WAITING ROOM of the hospital, the sterile smell of disinfectant hanging heavy in the air. Across the hallway, a figure approaches me, and I look up to find Luca strolling towards me with an air of quiet confidence, his hands in the pockets of his slacks.
“You good?” he asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
His brown eyes soften with understanding. It’s a while before he speaks again, and the air between us seems empty.
“Why did you stay?”
I consider his question for a moment. Any sane person would’ve taken the chance to get on that jet. Would’ve ran far away from this life. So why did I stay?
I know the answer. It’s simple.
“He asked me to.”
Luca glances at the ring on my finger, and a faint light enters his eyes.
“Your stepmother wants to talk to you,” he says.
My brows furrow. “She’s here? Now?”
He nods. “I can tell her to leave if you want.”
I pause, considering his offer for a moment, but I know that avoiding her would only prolong the inevitable.
“It’s fine,” I murmur, “I’ll speak to her.”
Just as I’m about to leave, his voice stops me. “Freya.”
I pause and turn.
Luca’s eyes settle on me. “You had the right to play on the offense. But only once. That’s over now. If you stay, you’re one of us. I care about you, but Torren’s like my brother. If you betray him again…”
His unspoken warning hangs in the air like a sharpened blade, and for a second, I’m reminded that Luca is still a Costa, and that’s where his loyalties will always lie. Behind his seemingly carefree smile lies a lethal predator.
I meet his gaze with unwavering resolve. “It won’t happen again.”
“In that case,” Luca murmurs, pulling me in as he cups the crown of my head, pressing his lips to my temple. “Welcome to the family.”
With hesitant steps, I turn and make my way down the hospital corridor. The weight of the situation presses upon me, my shoulders tense and my breath shallow. And there, standing amidst the bustling hospital staff, I spot her. The distinct platinum blonde of Greta Morozov’s short hair catches my eye.
