I’m not
the kind of girl you forget.
I wish I
was.
I wish I
was normal.
That I could blend into a crowd. Have a future with the man I’ve loved my entire life…
Maxon
James understands me in a way others can’t.
For as
long as I can remember, he’s vowed that one day he would claim my wild, rebel
heart. God knows I wanted him to try. I wanted the life he promised me in his
lyrics.
But his assurances couldn’t change the past, and the infamous mafia blood in my veins guarantees my heart can’t be claimed.
Somewhere along the way, I slipped. I let myself believe we could have it all. Now a dark, menacing shadow hovers between us, mocking us for daring to hope for a normal future.
And it’s come to collect on a blood oath.
My name’s Elizabeth Borello—Libby for short. Don’t worry about forgetting it … He hasn’t.
Loyalties
kept us apart. A death set us free.
Our passion unleashed, nothing could stop us.
Until my world was rocked—my greatest failure leaving me with my greatest
heartbreak.
Now Maverick is baring his soul to me, begging me to let him in. God knows I
want to, but I love him, and that means I’ll do anything to keep him from the
pain haunting me. Even if it destroys us both.
Someone has been waiting for this perfect moment to strike.
Watching me.
Studying me.
Waiting for me to be too consumed with hurt to notice he was there.
Someone who knows me.
I’m Einstein . . . like the genius, only smarter and with better hair.
There’s nothing I can’t hack into, crack open, or figure out. Well, almost
nothing.
And if I can’t beat his sinister game, it won’t just be my heart that stops
beating.
Protecting
people isn’t simply my job—it’s engrained in me.
It doesn’t atone for my countless sins.
There’s no washing the blood off my hands after a lifetime in the mob.
I just
want to save those who can’t save themselves.
Then Sutton Larson came at me with diamond-encrusted heels.
She’s judgmental and guarded and the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met.
Gaining
her trust is nearly impossible. Protecting her is anything but easy. When she
becomes more than a job, our passion builds like a brutal storm—beautiful and
consuming.
But we have an expiration date made of lies and betrayals and lethal games.
One we
thought we could outlive.
And it’s taunting us for thinking we could.
My name’s Conor Kennedy. I’ve lost enough people in my life . . . I refuse to
lose her.
