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“Is everyone okay?” Jax asked softly, his smooth voice rough and mangled, similar to my own. A chorus of weak grunts sounded. Was I alive? Yes. Was I okay? Hard. Fucking. No.
The story of my life should have been titled Sadie: The Bitch Who Was in Pain. Existence fucking hurt.
Hell is paved with the bones of the disloyal, took on new meaning as we struggled past the words on the wall.
Cobra, Ascher, and I were built for torture, built to withstand the atrocities of war, pain, and suffering. They weren’t. Yet here they were, destroyed among us.
The omega stared down at the little alpha with an intensity that made me want to growl at him that she was mine. Not his. Claim her in every way possible, so he knew who she belonged to.
No one had ever called me smart. No one had ever said, “Sadie, she’s a clever one. That girl has a bright future.” However, I’d been labeled mentally unhinged with homicidal impulses plenty of times.
In that moment, I learned something very important about myself: I had a praise kink.
Serenity wasn’t the absence of conflict; it was the stillness within chaos.
“Ugh, don’t be so selfish, Aran.” “Don’t be so unhinged, Sadie.” “Don’t be so ugly.” “Don’t be so scrawny.” I gasped with hurt. “Take it back. You said my muscles were looking bigger, you lying cow.” “Moo, bitch.” Aran released my limbs from her death grip and climbed off the bed.
