Part 1
My name is Eleanor Vance, and thirty seconds ago, I was dragged down a marble staircase by three armed security guards while my custom wedding gown tore against the sharp gravel outside the Sterling estate. Through the blinding downpour, I looked up at the balcony where my fiancé, Arthur Sterling—heir to a multi-billion-dollar real estate empire—stood silently, holding...
Part 1
My name is Eleanor Vance, and right now, I am lying on the freezing pavement outside the Sterling estate in Manhattan, drenched in cold rain while two heavy iron gates slam shut in my face. Ten minutes ago, I was supposed to marry Arthur Sterling, heir to the multi-billion-dollar Sterling Real Estate empire. Instead, his ruthless mother, Victoria,...
I am Elias Maddox. I spent twelve years operating in the shadows as a Navy SEAL, burying friends in places that don't exist on any map. Now, the only thing keeping me alive is a ninety-pound German Shepherd named Titan, and the security guard in this crowded Seattle ER is about to shoot him.
"Sir, call off the dog!" the...
Part 1
I’m Maya Vance, a twenty-eight-year-old art conservator from Chicago who thought she had landed a real-life fairy tale when I met Julian Sterling, heir to Manhattan’s most powerful financial dynasty. But standing at the altar of St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City, surrounded by five hundred elite guests and millions watching on live television, my dream instantly...
Part 1
I am Josephine Miller, a twenty-eight-year-old art restorer from Chicago, but right now, my face is burning, blood is dripping onto my white lace gown, and thirty million live stream viewers are watching me bleed at the altar of Saint Jude’s Cathedral in New York.
Two seconds ago, I was looking into the eyes of Theodore Sterling—the man I...
Part 1
I stood at the altar of St. Jude’s Cathedral in Manhattan, surrounded by eight hundred sneering billionaires, wearing a repulsive, yellowed polyester gown from the 1980s.
My name is Clara Kensington. To the vulture-like high society of New York, I was nothing more than an impoverished archivist working at a dusty Brooklyn library—a nobody who had somehow ensnared Nathaniel...
Part 1
My name is Clara, and for three years, everyone in Manhattan’s ruthless high society believed I was just a penniless, quiet archivist from a fourth-floor walk-up in Brooklyn. Right now, I am standing at the altar of St. Jude’s Cathedral, wearing a hideous, itchy 1980s polyester dress with gaudy plastic sequins—a public humiliation arranged by my future mother-in-law,...
The name's Lieutenant Jesse Vance, and my heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird as tracer rounds lit up the pitch-black Afghan night. "Falcon Ridge, this is Eagle One, I'm touching down in the kill zone—whether you like it or not!" I barked into the radio, my hands locked white-knuckled around the cyclic control of the...
Part 2
As my F-35 plummeted, dropping off Connor's radar like a ghost dissipating into thin air, his jet roared helplessly past me. He had been so hyper-focused on his digital reticle that he couldn't react to a physical, real-world anomaly.
I immediately slammed the throttle back into full afterburner. The GE F135 engine howled, kicking me violently in the back...
"Mayday, Mayday, Dustoff 73 is hit! We are going down hard in the valley of hell, surrounded on all sides!" the frantic radio transmission bled static into the dark, pre-dawn air of Falcon Ridge Air Force Base.
I froze, my hands still caked in hydraulic fluid inside the belly of a battered Blackhawk. Twelve lives. Twelve American soldiers pinned down...
