My name is Specialist Elena Fletcher. If you asked the elite SEAL team I was attached to, I was a liability. A babysitter. Just a small woman in an oversized uniform holding the leash of a Belgian Malinois named Ryder. They had no idea about my prior life in JSOC’s clandestine explosive ordnance units.
At 4:30 a.m., the Arizona desert...
Part 1
My name is Maya Vance, I am eight months pregnant, and right now, I am bleeding on the cold marble floor of our Manhattan penthouse while my husband stands over me with a look of pure, calculated hatred.
Ten minutes ago, I was packing a hidden bag. For two years, I thought I was living a fairytale with Julian,...
Part 1
My name is Maya Vance. Eight months ago, I was a rising corporate attorney in Chicago. Tonight, eight months pregnant and bleeding on the imported Italian marble of our Gold Coast penthouse, I was fighting to survive my husband.
The crystal decanter shattered against the wall inches above my head, raining heavy, razor-sharp shards over my bare shoulders. I...
Part 2
My eyes flicked from David’s flushed, arrogant face down to his hand clamped firmly around my wrist. The ambient chatter of the grand ballroom faded into a dull roar. Five years ago, I might have flinched. Today, I was Colonel Sarah Evans, and I did not tolerate being handled like property.
With a swift, calculated motion, I rotated my...
Part 2
The groom was the first to move.
Major Ethan Cole crossed the ballroom, came to attention, and said, “Colonel Hale, ma’am.”
The other five officers followed.
Their heels struck the floor almost together.
The laughter around Brandon died.
Ethan offered his hand. “I didn’t know Olivia had invited you. It’s an honor.”
I shook it. “Today belongs to you and my cousin.”
“With respect, ma’am,...
The name's Jack Miller, and if you had told me back in Chicago that I’d be trembling behind a rotten pile of cedar planks while an invisible executioner hunted my heartbeat, I would have laughed in your face. But here I was, trapped in the suffocating hell of an American forward trench in the Vosges Mountains during the bitter...
My name is Sergeant Ray Callahan, and if any general back in Washington ever had to drag a nine-hundred-pound 37 mm M3 anti-tank gun through three miles of knee-deep, leech-infested Guadalcanal swamp, I would gladly let him taste the muzzle of my rifle. The brass called it a high-velocity weapon; we called it a glorified door-knocker that couldn't punch...
Part 1
My name is Natalie Thornton Ashford, six months pregnant, and right now, I am lying on the polished marble floor of the Metropolitan Museum of Art while five hundred of New York’s elite watch my world shatter.
The stinging heat on my left cheek hasn’t even dulled yet. Standing over me is my husband, Marcus Ashford—billionaire tech CEO, golden...
Part 1
My name is Victoria Sterling, and thirty seconds ago, my powerful husband slammed a heavy crystal decanter onto the marble floor, forcing me back against the glass railing of our fortieth-floor Manhattan penthouse.
"Hand over the drive, Victoria," Carter sneered, his tailored suit spotless while my hands trembled uncontrollably against my six-month pregnant belly. "You really thought you could...
The dirt beneath my palms felt damp, smelling of old blood and crushed sage. I am Elena Vance, a Master Scout Sniper embedded with the deep reconnaissance division of the U.S. Army. Beside me, Corporal Marcus Vance—a twenty-year-old kid whose knuckles were bleeding from scrambling up the shale—was hyperventilating into his collar. We were deep behind enemy lines on...
