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To the ones who wear a smile like a loaded gun.
He stole my breath, my life, my damn existence. And now, I’ll steal his.
My name is Teal Van Doren, and I’m a thief. The type who’s not interested in pieces of jewellery or goods, but the type who’s after lives. His life.
Some are born for peopling; I was born for anything that doesn’t include that.
When people started calling me adorable with snow-like beauty in my youth, I smothered it.
The feeling that I’m continuing in Dad’s footsteps is one of the reasons why I tolerated the idea of leaving Birmingham to come all the way to London. And him. The one who’ll soon go down.
They look at me like I’m a freak, and I don’t acknowledge them at all. Why? Because I was never interested in fitting in.
I have my world, and no one is welcome in.
Besides, no one actually knows me — or at least not the way they think. They don’t see the constant shadow over my shoulder or the tears trapped in the middle of nowhere. Only I do.
He’s so daft, my brother, and I have no words to describe how much I appreciate him for it. I wouldn’t have come this far if I didn’t have him. When the darkness swallows me and I have nowhere to go, he’s there, telling me without words that we have each other.
Ronan Astor. An earl’s son with a Prince Charming complex. Nicknamed Death for his position on the team. He doesn’t know that death isn’t a title. Death is the beginning of every war, and I’ve already started mine. I stole his will, his future, and soon enough, his life will follow. I have a secret, I’m a thief. Ronan Astor is my next target. As well as my future husband.
His face is too symmetrical, as if it were sculpted by a Greek god.
His beauty makes no sense at all for two reasons. A, he’s too aware of it; it’s cringey. B, and most importantly, there’s no depth behind it.
I know all too well what he’s hiding beneath all the laughs and grins.
I have watched him. After all, he’s part of my plan. He just doesn’t know it yet. Soon, though. So very soon.
As I slide my attention back to my phone, a harsh glare registers in my peripheral vision. When I lift my head and my eyes collide with that infuriatingly symmetrical gaze, a grin greets me, all perfect and put together and worthy of an earl’s son.
“Bonjour, ma belle,” he tells me, his tone light, welcoming, and I think there’s some flirting in there, too, but I’m not sure. Ma belle. My beautiful.
Maybe one day after the war finishes, I’ll stand in a public place and recognise every face and every person. I’ll be normal. Though, what’s normal? I never lived it, never experienced it, so how come I want it so much?
Ronan and I often throw jabs at each other. What? I’m allergic to his over-positivity, and I can’t stay quiet about it. He always retaliates and we soon drop it.
“Ma belle, ma belle…” He’s still smiling as he muses. “I call you ma belle, but you keep missing the point entirely.”
“I’ll give you one piece of advice, just because you’re Elsa and Knox’s sister.” I don’t get a warning before he grabs me by my nape. His hand covers the tiny space, shocking my skin as it wraps around my neck from behind. The scent of something spicy fills my nostrils as he leans in to whisper against the lobe of my ear. “Run, ma belle.”
I brush my teeth and pay a morning tribute to Ron Astor the Second. Yes, that’s my dick’s name, and yes, I always need to give him the morning routine.
The only thing I gave up is the black makeup. I think you missed the memo about makeup. It’s supposed to make you prettier, not uglier. No, it’s not because of his words. Ronan Astor doesn’t affect my decisions and never will. Not even if I wear his engagement ring.
In the end, the hero won’t win. The villain will topple everyone’s lives over.
What everyone doesn’t know is, the villain wasn’t always a villain. Once upon a time, they were a victim.
At the head of table stands the lord of the estate. Earl Edric Astor, member of the House of Lords, a ruthless investor, a faithful husband. And a fucked-up human being.
oh no… a sense of foreboding…
But that doesn’t mean I’ll give up on the plan. I’ve finally gotten here, and no rich spoilt boy will take away my justice.
I can’t fight it off as I watch him, hear him, his voice with that distinguishable tenor. It’s changed a little, but it has been more than a decade, after all. He’s still the same: confident, arrogant, and a wolf in a sheep’s clothing. Back then, I could do nothing about it. Now, I’ll slaughter his legacy, crush his name, and make him bleed.
You’re always a victim of war, whether by losing a loved one or your property or both. And right now, Ronan appears ready to make me lose everything.
I meet those black eyes that should belong in some gothic tale about black magic and sucking people’s souls into nothingness.
That tiny girl with black hair and eyes, and possibly a black heart, has riled up a part of me I’ve been keeping hidden for so long I actually thought maybe it’d start disappearing, but nope, it came back reeling from the dead. And now she’ll fucking pay for it.
I charmed Mrs Abbot, the librarian, and found out which books Teal borrowed from the school’s library. They’re all about wars. Every last fucking one of them. Why would the nerd only read about wars? Who fucking knows.
Her lack of reaction is beginning to grate on my fucking nerves. Her disinterest and mighty attitude has started to scrape against my walls, and even I don’t know how I’ll act if those walls somehow end up falling and letting everything break loose.
Teal insisted she doesn’t have a secret, but as I said, everyone does. And when I have hers, nothing will save her from me. She’ll wish she’d never said yes.
I meant it — he can bring it. Nothing will sway me, and there’s no way in hell he’ll have me abandoning what I started.
Different just means…special.
I feel something break inside me as he speaks. “Bonsoir, ma belle.”
Her beauty. It’s a special type, the kind you not only want to stare at but also want to trap somewhere so you’re the only one who sees it. It’s kind of sick, but it fits her.
And suddenly, a thought I never had becomes my sole purpose in life. I want my teeth on that lip. I want to lick it, bite it, then devour it.
I motion at the angry red scratch marks on my forearm. It’s like I’ve been attacked by a kitten — a small, furious kitten.
A spark just passed through the dim colour of her eyes, almost like a shooting star in a moonless night. It disappears as soon as it appears.
She glares at me as if she wishes she could bite my eye out with her teeth. I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s a bit crazy, and fuck me, it’s starting to grow on me.
The moment she gasps, I crush my lips to hers. She tastes like…madness, the type you can never get away from or with. It’s the type that gets under your skin, and soon enough, you don’t know whether you’re losing your sanity or your life.
For the first time in my life, I fucking feast on someone. Using my grip on her jaw, I squeeze it open so I can claim her tongue, bite it with my teeth, suck it with my lips. I steal her breath and her damn sanity just like she’s been doing with me.
She stirred up my ugly side, and now she has to become its target. I, Ronan Astor, the most attentive lover you could ever find, want to break someone — but not just anyone. Her.
They say you should find what you love and keep it close. The same can be said about what you hate.
The moment his smile disappeared — which is rare as hell — it was almost as if a different person altogether emerged. A person who finds sick pleasure in trapping me, subjugating me to his will and mercy.
Ronan Astor is only a pawn in my game, a domino. That’s it. That’s all.
He thinks it’s fine to play with me? He’ll see what playing means.
I approach her until once again she’s against a surface and I’m towering over her. I’m starting to like this position, maybe even love it.
