Follow
Chapters
Share
Good Girl Gone Bad Novel Cover

Good Girl Gone Bad

"I'm not your toy. Find someone else you can play with because that won't be me. I won't be the one to satisfy your sick desires." "What makes you think you have a choice?" He murmured, his voice low and dangerous, sending shivers down her spine. "Because you don't go around telling people you own them and you certainly do not own me." "Every inch of ground you step upon, I own." He closed the distance between them in one step. "And unfortunately, for you darling. Everything I want. I get." ________ Zeus Trojan rules Castello City's in shadows, a ruthless mafia thriving in havoc and sin where every corner bows to his command. But Saoirse, the innocent cigarette girl haunted by her parents' murder and her brother's deadly illness, is about to shatter that rule. Blackmailed to save her little brother, she vows vengeance against the man who stole her freedom-yet destroying a king demands more than revenge: it means slipping deeper into his gilded cage, unraveling his secrets, and surrendering to his darkness that will bind them in an unbreakable, intoxicating obsession. And in a game where power devours the weak, can Saoirse destroy the man who owns her the world or will their forbidden desire consume them both?
Chapters
Share

Chapter 6

SAOIRSE.

There was no sight of him. The whole two days had been a fragile illusion of peace, a thin veil over the chaos that clawed at my edges.

For once, his gaze hadn't pinned me down, turning the world into a cage that mirrored his destructive soul, the kind that seeped into your veins and drove you mad.

Midnight struck as I stumbled out of the motel, the rain-slicked pavement gleaming under the sputtering lights. My shoes clicked against the road, I can still feel the exhaustion and adrenaline rattling my bones. 

This hiding game had stretched on too long, a relentless tug-of-war that left me hollow. But none of that mattered. Not the ache in my muscles, not the fog of my breath in the chill air. 

All that consumed me was Aofie, my little brother, trapped in that rundown hospital on the city's fringe, his tiny body tethered to machines that beeped like false promises.

He'd been there for years, fighting a disease the doctors called ‘under control.’ Lies. In this unjust world, the word under control was nothing but a myth. All they do is take and take, milking the desperate to live. 

The warm porridge I'd clutched in my hands was meant to be his comfort, a small act of normalcy in our messed up lives. I walked faster, adrenaline surging through me like fire, drowning out the fatigue. Aofie needed me. He was all I had left, the only light in this brutal city where monsters like Zeus Trojan prowled, devouring the weak without a second thought.

Rounding the corner, my heart lurched into my throat. Three black sprinter vans idled violently in front of the hospital, their tinted windows devouring the moonlight like voids. The kind that appeared in nightmares, spilling shadows that left carnage in their wake.

I recognized those vans. They are his. 

The porridge slipped from my fingers, splattering onto the cracked pavement like blood. Hot liquid seeped into the cracks, mixing with grime, and I bolted inside, my heels clicking frantically against the linoleum floors. 

The air reeked of antiseptic and decay, a nauseating cocktail that clawed at my nostrils. Nurses glanced up from their stations, their eyes widening in alarm, but I ignored them, my pulse thundering in my ears. 

Room 312. Aofie's room. At the end of the hall. I burst through the door, gasping, chest heaving — only to freeze, the world tilting on its axis.

There he was. 

Zeus Trojan. 

He is sitting bluntly on a chair beside the window. However, something was off. No cigarette dangling from his lips, no lazy puffs of smoke curling into the air. Just him, staring at me with those dark eyes, bored yet burning.

“You have exhausted my patience, little fox.”

“W–What are you doing here? Get out.” The words escaped in a whisper, my body rooted, lungs refusing to draw breath. “Leave my brother out of this, Mr. Trojan. Please…”

I couldn't bring myself to say his first name. It tasted like poison on my tongue.

“Trojan?” He arched a brow, lips twisting into a smirk that never touched those cold depths of his eyes. “You know my name. Does saying it stir something in you you're not supposed to feel?”

Does it? I don’t know. I didn't understand and I don't want to know. It didn't make sense to me how just uttering it could make my skin prickle and my pulse race.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “W–What do you want?”

“You know what I want.”

The words hit like a punch, stealing my breath. Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them back. “You're a monster. All of you. All of you are nothing but evil.”

He rose slowly, unfolding like a predator from its den, each movement deliberate. His scent enveloped me first, intoxicating and suffocating. Heat radiated from him, thickening the space between us until I could barely breathe.

“Monsters are protectors, Saoirse. In a world like Castello, you need someone like me. Someone who can shield you from the real evil, from the shadows that devour the weak. Submit, and I'll save you both.”

“Submit?” I scoffed. “To you? To a murderer, a monster? No. I'd rather burn.”

“Then burn with me.”

I didn’t have the time to process when his mouth claimed mine, fierce and demanding. Zeus’s tongue swept in but I fought it, biting his lip again, but he groaned, deepening the kiss, his hands roaming, around my waist.

Fuck.

Pleasure shot through me, sharp and unwanted, making me release a moan in his mouth.

I pushed his chest hard to pull him away. The two of us are catching our breath. Those eyes. Those damn hungry eyes glinting into the night, staring right through me made my whole body shiver. 

“Did you like my gift?”

“What? What gift—”

The memory slammed into me, a tidal wave of horror. The box on my motel doorstep the other morning, left like a sick offering. I'd opened it with shaking hands, expecting…what? Flowers? Something normal? But inside. 

Inside, was a pair of eyes. Real eyes, carved from flesh, veins glistening, blood pooling at the bottom. The stench of blood and flesh had made me gag, bile rising in my throat as I slammed the lid shut and throwing it in the bin. But the image was burned into my mind, the way it throbbed faintly, as if it still held life.

“Did you not like it?” he asked, his tone innocent, almost playful, like we were discussing a bouquet. “Your boyfriend didn't seem to mind when I carved it out of his skull.”

What the fuck. What the fuck is wrong with this man. My brows narrowed, fury and horror twisting in my chest. He’s disgustingly disturbing. How could he say something like that? So casually like it was nothing, as if Lorenzo was just a meat on a slab, as if he was a joke.

"W—What the fuck are you saying?"

“Feisty.” A low rumble escaped him, a scoff that echoed through the room. "A little smile would suit you."

“What did you do? What did you do to Lorenzo? You didn't do anything, right?” I asked, almost a whisper. “Right?!”

I knew. We both knew. He wasn't just a man. Zeus Trojan is a walking death. He could pluck souls like petals, twist lives with a flick of his finger. What he was saying wasn't impossible. It was his reality, his game.

He stepped even closer, his breath hot against my ear.

“This is why you don't get to fuck around, Saoirse. Not with me.” He stepped closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.

My gaze darted to Aofie, lying still in the bed, machines humming softly. My heart shattered.

“Test me again, and I'll have each part of his body delivered to your doorstep. Piece by piece.”

What have I done? 

Playing hide and seek with Zeus had been a mistake, a deadly game I never should have started. And now, the consequences were staring at me in the face, brutal and unyielding.

“You know where to find me.”

He walked past me. And as the door clicked shut, leaving me alone with Aofie, I sank to the floor, the room spinning, sobs wracking me as I tried to muffle them. 

I’m running out of choices and Zeus? He was ensuring I had nowhere left to run.

You may also like

From Broken Vessel To Mafia Queen Novel Cover
8.0
Years ago, I threw myself in front of an assassin's bullet to protect my Mafia boss husband, leaving me nearly infertile. He knelt in my blood, swearing I would be his only wife. But tonight, I heard him whisper to his childhood sweetheart in Italian: "My wife is a useless vessel; only you can give the Rossi family an heir." He thought I couldn't understand him, not knowing I used to work as an Italian translator. He also had no idea that an eight-week-old miracle was currently growing in my womb. Julian, you will never see your child. I no longer want your promises. I no longer want you. From now on, we will never cross paths again. Adieu, pour toujours.
HEALING IN HIS ARMS  Novel Cover
9.5
After getting raped by her uncle at the age of 10, pearl Wilson's life never remained the same. She had to live with the stigma even after her uncle Richard was sent to jail. No one knows about the case except her family and her three friends, but despite that fact, she felt eyes on herself everywhere she went. Pearl grew a deep-seated hatred for the male gender afterwards, even her own dad. She's rebellious and obstinate. As she grew, her hatred grew with her, up until college. Everyone in Legacy college knows Pearl the male hater who throws shit on the faces of every boy she meets. Pearl's male hatred met an unexpected hitch when she had an encounter with the silent one, her department's quiet boy... Ronnie Banks. Ronnie is known for his greek-god-ish calm exterior and cool personality. He only talks when necessary, but what Pearl is unaware of is that he has had eyes on her since her first year in the school. He has been watching her from a distance, and now, she willingly walked into his lair. She's caught! What happens next? When the two opposites clash... When secrets huge enough to break several hearts started coming out like. when bloodshed and unexpected events hit the ground. Are you already feeling the heat of the dramas? Damn! You don't wanna miss out on this Dark College Romance, do you? Don't you dare!
His Obsession, My Revenge: A Mafia Second Life Novel Cover
8.5
I woke up in the tangled black silk sheets of the Mafia Don's bed, my skin still burning from his ruthless touch in the dark. The heavy door burst open, and his pristine wife, Bianca, looked at my bruised collarbones with visceral hatred. Instead of having me killed for soiling her husband's bed, she offered a devil's bargain. "You will take my place in his bed. You will be a shadow in the dark." In my past life, I foolishly accepted, thinking her money would pay for my dying mother's hospital bills. I didn't realize the untouchable Mafia Queen was barren and just needed a disposable incubator. After I endured the Don's violent possession and birthed the Moretti heir, they cut off my mother's medicine. Then, they dragged me to a remote warehouse and suffocated me with a wet mattress to bury their dirty secret forever. Until my last agonizing breath, I didn't understand why my absolute submission and suffering were rewarded with such a brutal, meaningless death. Opening my eyes again, I was back on the morning after the Don first claimed me. I knelt on the Persian rug, weeping tears of fake gratitude as Bianca handed me the cash. But the moment my escort looked away, I didn't take her fertility herbs. I bought a bitter root from an alley witch to keep my womb empty. This time, I won't give the Don a child. I'll become his darkest obsession, and use his lethal power to burn this entire family to the ground.
Leaving Love for Freedom Novel Cover
8.6
I woke before the sunrise on our fifth anniversary, my heart fluttering with anticipation. For months, I'd been secretly working on Vincenzo's gift—a portrait capturing our happiest memories together. The morning light filtered through our bedroom curtains as I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him. In the kitchen, I prepared his favorite breakfast: eggs benedict with freshly squeezed orange juice and the aromatic Italian coffee he loved so much. The table was set with our wedding china, a small vase of red roses at the center. Everything had to be perfect today. I heard his footsteps on the stairs and smoothed down my silk robe, suddenly feeling nervous. Five years of marriage, and still my heart raced when he entered a room. "Happy anniversary," I said, my voice soft with affection as he appeared in the doorway. Vincenzo stood there in his tailored suit, already dressed for work.
Mafia Betrayal: Her Escape From Darkness Novel Cover
8.6
The Maybach glided through rain, Dante's cold cedar cologne a familiar comfort. Seven years, my life revolved around him, my fingers on his suit cuff, a silent promise. But tonight, our normal shattered with a single phone call. He answered, speaking rapid Italian – a language he thought I didn't understand. Every word: a death knell. Confirming his engagement to Sofia Moretti, dismissing me as a 'consolation prize.' Seven years of loyalty vanished. His loving mask back, he left for his fiancée. I stumbled into freezing rain, recalling my foster past. My numb fingers dialed his mother, Isabella, demanding fifty million for my silence. Her insults didn't sting. The true gut punch: Sofia's Instagram, a prenup on Dante's desk, proudly showing *my* watch, captioned: 'Fourteen days left.' This wasn't their celebration; it was my death sentence. I wouldn't stay another day in this gilded cage. My old duffel bag, packed, waited. The Australia brochure, a childhood dream, in my pocket. This time, I would live for myself, and they would all pay.
My Husband Sold Me to the Don Novel Cover
7.7
My husband, Hudson Higgins, used my dowry to buy his way into the Chicago underworld while his family treated me like a servant in my own home. I endured their insults for the sake of my five-year-old daughter, Josie. But then, the unthinkable happened. I found Josie's small, lifeless body by the garden fountain, while my sister-in-law Karly and mother-in-law Eleanor stood by, complaining about their party plans. "She was just too naughty," Karly sneered, adjusting her pearls over my dead child. When I turned to Hudson for help, he looked at me with dead eyes and told me it was just her fate. In that moment of absolute grief, I remembered the words of the ruthless Don Damien Falcone: "Your husband is a man who knows how to close a deal." The truth sliced through me like a blade. Hudson hadn't just ignored the Don's interest in me; he had actively sold me to the Devil of Chicago to buy his seat at the table. He let his family punish me for the very sin he committed. I had lost everything-my dignity, my mother, and now my baby-all sacrificed for a man who traded his wife's body for power. The sorrow in my chest evaporated, replaced by a scorching, blinding thirst for a blood vendetta. After lunging at Hudson and feeling the world explode into white, I opened my eyes to find myself back in the winter of 1928. It was the exact night the nightmare began, and Don Damien Falcone was walking toward me in his penthouse. This time, I won't be the broken bird in his gilded cage. If Hudson wants to use me to climb the ranks, I will use the Don's dark obsession to burn the Higgins family to the ground.