Blake Jewell
14 Published Stories
Blake Jewell's Books and Stories
Reborn: The Alpha's Regret and the Serpent's Queen
Werewolf It was the Mating Ceremony, the most important day for our pack, but for me, it felt like walking to the gallows. I stood on the velvet carpet, waiting for Jacob, the Alpha heir, to claim me.
Suddenly, my younger sister Bella threw herself at the Elder's feet, screaming that she and Jacob were in love. Jacob didn't deny it. He looked at me with cold calculation, announced he chose her, and publicly broke our engagement.
In my previous life, this betrayal broke me. I had fought to marry him, only to become a "defective incubator" locked in a room. I remembered the bruises that never healed and the fire that eventually killed me. While I burned to death, Jacob only cared about saving Bella.
Now, standing in the same spot, the crowd mocked me as "damaged goods." My father sneered, pointing to the back of the room where the "lesser" clans stood, telling me to pick a rat or a snake if I wanted to stay in the Pack House.
They thought they were ruining me. They didn't realize they were handing me the key to my freedom.
I turned away from the smirking wolves and walked toward the darkest corner of the room. There sat Draco, the Serpent King, a man everyone feared and despised.
He was the only one who had tried to smash through the burning beams to save me in my past life.
I stopped in front of him, ignored the gasps of the crowd, and extended my hand.
"I choose you." His Secret Wife: A Dangerous Game
Billionaires Ace Suarez, a man who built an empire on cold control, was convinced his wife had betrayed him.
He stormed into a Brooklyn warehouse, ready to destroy her, only to see a woman in a silk robe with a man who called her "sweetheart."
Blind with rage, he didn't check her face—he didn't need to. He assumed the worst, filed for divorce, and retreated to his glass office, leaving his wife to face the ruins of a life she didn't know was ending.
But the coincidence was too perfect. His new assistant, Delinda Howell, lived in that same building. She was quiet, efficient, and bore the exact same name as the woman he had just discarded.
I was left wondering, was this a cruel twist of fate, or had he destroyed the wrong woman in his arrogance?
Now, as the divorce papers are finalized, Ace begins to notice the assistant he once treated as nothing, and the suffocating realization hits him: the woman he fired, abused, and erased might be the very same one standing right outside his door. The Thirty-Eighth Divorce's End
Modern Today is my fifth wedding anniversary. It's also the day my husband, Ethan, asked me for a divorce for the 38th time.
He does this for Ilene, his childhood friend. The woman who crashed her car on our wedding day, leaving her unable to have children. Ever since, he's been repaying a debt of guilt, and I've been the price.
For five years, I endured the cycle of divorce and remarriage. But this time was different. Ilene pushed me down a flight of stairs.
Ethan found me bleeding and promised me justice. He swore he would make her pay.
But days later, the police called. The security footage of the incident had been mysteriously erased. There was no evidence, no case.
That night, Ilene had me kidnapped. As her men tore at my clothes in the back of a van, I managed to call Ethan.
He rejected my call.
I jumped from the moving van. And as I ran for my life, bleeding on the cold asphalt, I made a vow.
This time, there would be no 39th remarriage.
This time, I would disappear. Lies, Betrayal, And The Baby I Hid Away
Modern I stepped into our penthouse for my baby shower, caressing my eight-month bump, expecting balloons and laughter.
But instead of joy, I found my husband, Michael, cradling a newborn that wasn't ours. Beside him sat his assistant, Serena, looking far too comfortable. Michael looked me dead in the eye, his expression cold and flat, and introduced the infant as his firstborn son.
They didn't apologize. Instead, Serena mocked my high-risk pregnancy, calling me a mere "incubator" for the spare heir. When I demanded they leave, Serena shoved me.
I hit the floor hard, screaming in agony as pain ripped through my belly. But Michael didn't help me. He stepped over my convulsing body to comfort her, accusing me of being dramatic. He walked out with his new family, leaving me bleeding alone on the nursery floor.
Lying in the hospital later, I overheard Michael on the phone. He wasn't worried. He laughed, revealing his plan to use my family's connections for his IPO before divorcing me and taking full custody of my child.
He didn't love me. He only wanted the heir.
That was the moment the old Olivia died. I knew I had to deny him the only thing he truly wanted. I wiped my tears, touched my stomach where my son was still kicking, and made a decision that would sever us forever.
I told my lawyer to deliver a simple message to Michael.
"Tell him the baby didn't make it." Justice Served By My True Love
Modern For seven years, I was the secret wife of tech billionaire Ethan Richardson, the ghostwriter of his success. I sacrificed everything for him, only to be discarded for my own protégée after he forced me through five abortions.
I rebuilt my life from the ashes, finally finding peace.
But at our ten-year reunion, Ethan reappeared. He saw my five-year-old daughter, Mia, and a terrifying obsession ignited in his eyes, convinced she was the child I had hidden from him.
His madness escalated until he kidnapped her, luring me to an abandoned warehouse with a chilling threat.
"Come alone if you want to see our daughter again."
How could this man, who left me to miscarry our last child alone in a hospital, now dare to call himself a father?
He offered me a twisted deal: our 'family' back together, in exchange for my daughter's life.
But he made one fatal mistake.
He never bothered to find out who my new husband was. The Vengeful Groom's Deception
Billionaires I married Veronica Hayes, the woman whose family destroyed mine.
She thought she was setting a trap for a fool.
She didn' t know she was walking into a decade of meticulous planning.
Ten years ago, in college, I poured my soul into a painting, a raw, dark piece, a silent scream about my father' s story.
She stopped in front of it with her entourage, a campus celebrity with her sharp wit and even sharper tongue.
"A starving artist," she announced, loud enough for everyone to hear.
"How cliché. I bet he thinks this mess is profound."
Laughter rippled around me.
My face burned with humiliation, and I stood there, speechless, as she turned and walked away without a second glance.
Then, three months ago, she reappeared in my dusty studio, a vision in a power suit that probably cost more than everything I owned.
Her charisma filled the small space, and her smile was bright, almost blinding.
"Alex Miller," she said.
"I' ve been following your work. You' re incredibly talented."
My paintbrush dripped onto the floor as I stared at her, saying nothing.
She didn' t seem to mind.
She walked through my studio, examining my art with intense interest.
Finally, she turned back to me.
"I have a proposal for you, Alex."
I waited.
"Marry me."
The words hung in the air, absurd and thick.
The woman who had publicly branded me a failure wanted to marry me.
"And in return," she continued, "I' ll make you the CEO of one of my startups. A tech company. InnovateAI. You' ll have a salary, stock options, a place in the world. No more starving."
She gestured around my studio, a faint pity in her eyes, a perfect performance.
My friends all warned me.
"It' s a trick, Alex."
"She' s a shark. Remember college?"
"No one just hands you a company for getting married. It' s insane."
They were right, of course.
It was insane.
And it was a trick.
I knew Veronica' s reputation: ruthless, manipulative, her father' s daughter.
But they didn' t know my secret.
They didn' t know I' d been waiting for an opportunity like this for a decade.
I looked at Veronica, her eyes shining with false sincerity.
I let a look of stunned, hopeful disbelief cross my face.
My voice trembled just a little.
"You' re serious?"
"Completely," she said, her smile widening.
"We need to do it quickly, though. A whirlwind romance. The board loves a good story. It' ll be a PR masterpiece for the company launch."
I pretended to be overwhelmed, running a hand through my hair, letting out a shaky breath.
"Yes," I said, my voice filled with manufactured excitement.
"Yes, I' ll marry you."
Her eyes lit up with victory.
She thought she had me, the poor, struggling artist dazzled by wealth and power, ready to be her pawn.
She had no idea that I was the one holding the board, and she had just handed me all the pieces I needed to win the game. Eight Years of Gilded Cage
Romance It was our eighth wedding anniversary, and my husband, Mark Johnson, wasn't home.
He was celebrating another woman's birthday, as usual.
I sat in the silence of our gilded cage, the emotional wounds from years of neglect and indifference finally festering.
He never hit me, not until tonight, but Chloe's Instagram post-Mark, her, a cake-ignited a rage I couldn't contain.
When he finally stumbled in, past midnight, reeking of her perfume, I confronted him.
"It's our anniversary, Mark."
He sneered, "At least she's fun to be around. She doesn't just sit in the dark waiting to ambush me."
The words tasted like poison.
"I want a divorce, Mark."
His face went white.
"And," I added, "I'm pregnant. And the baby isn't yours."
His shock turned to pure fury.
"You lying, cheating bitch."
He lunged, shoved me hard, and I fell backward, hitting the coffee table.
A searing pain ripped through me.
I looked down to see blood spreading on my dress.
"Mark," I gasped, "The hospital... please..."
He just scoffed, "You think a baby that isn't mine is your ticket out? You're pathetic, Ava."
He pocketed the watch I'd bought him for our anniversary and walked out, leaving me bleeding on the floor.
Eight years.
He left me to die.
Lying there, clutching my bleeding stomach, I knew I had to do something.
For my baby.
My fingers, slick with blood, fumbled for my phone, calling the one person who had ever shown me true kindness.
Someone I' d promised I' d never call.
That night, Liam Thorne answered. Reclaiming My Life, Redefining Love
Sci-fi I opened my eyes to a sterile hospital room after three years in a coma, a miracle, Dr. Reed called me. My memory, a slow agonizing puzzle, was finally whole. I remembered everything.
The first person I saw wasn' t my fiancé, Mark. It was my old professor, Dr. Reed, holding my hand, her face a mix of relief and concern.
Mark Harrison was waiting at the entrance of our house, looking older, his face etched with ambition, not grief. He didn' t rush to hug me, didn' t even smile.
"Ava," he said, his voice flat. "You're back."
Then she emerged: Chloe Davis, my old rival, now standing on my doorstep with a triumphant smile, her arm wrapped around Mark' s. On her wrist, my patented smartwatch gleamed.
"Chloe has been a rock for me," Mark announced, looking at her with practiced adoration. "We're engaged."
A month after my car crash – a supposed accident – he was engaged. A month after that, her company acquired a crucial patent from my firm.
From inside, Spark, my AI companion, spoke. Its warm, inquisitive voice now clipped, devoted to Chloe. My home, stripped of my art, my books, everything that was me.
"Chloe has taken over the company and our lives," Mark snarled, his patience gone. "You'll just have to accept it." He expected tears, but I felt only relief.
The fog was gone. I saw him for what he was.
"Okay," I said, my voice calm and even. "I accept it."
He stared, confused. I was not the woman he thought he had destroyed. My purpose here wasn't to reclaim a lost love, but my life's work.
Then came the child' s wail. Chloe rushed out, blaming my "legacy systems" for a scratch on a boy named Alex.
"It wasn't a malfunction," I stated, pointing to the error log. "The command came from your smartwatch, Chloe. You probably held Alex's arm just a little too close to it."
Her face went pale, then contorted with manufactured fear for Mark' s benefit.
"You are unbelievable," Mark spat, blocking my path. "Something you could never give me."
"I want access to Spark," I demanded. "I am the creator."
"You have no rights!" he yelled. "Spark is not your company's property, Mark," I replied, my voice dangerously low. "Spark is mine."
He knew that wasn' t an empty threat. He knew what I was capable of. His Political Prop, Her Revenge
Romance My life with political hopeful Ethan Hayes was a gilded cage in the Hamptons.
We hosted glittering fundraisers, surrounded by donors and power brokers.
I thought I had everything, a perfect facade.
Then, my half-sister Brooke feigned a champagne glass accident, theatrically blaming me.
Ethan, my devoted husband, immediately turned on me, his face a mask of cold fury.
He publicly branded me "unwell" and "unhinged," erasing my existence for his career.
That night, two men dragged me away to a brutal "wellness retreat" in Montana.
For two years, it was a prison where I was drugged, abused, and systematically broken, losing my voice and my identity.
I was a shell, trained only to survive.
Ethan never visited, only paid the enormous monthly fees.
When he brought me back as a political prop, my trauma erupted; I instinctively dropped to my knees and shined a donor's shoes.
He called me "shameless" and "unhinged," reinforcing my public ruin.
The final, searing truth came from Brooke: Ethan had paid a "management fee" to specifically destroy me.
The numb silence of two years fractured.
An icy, pure rage ignited within me.
Locked away, I used a hidden bobby pin to pick the lock, my hands shaking with adrenaline.
This broken woman was coming for him, armed with the buried evidence that would be his absolute ruin. His Vengeance, My Deliverance
Sci-fi For eight lifetimes, I endured Julian Blackwood' s contempt, believing I could "rehabilitate" him and redeem my system-granted freedom, my student debt gone, my mother's cancer cured.
In my eighth attempt, I mistakenly fell in love and became pregnant, only for him to force a brutal miscarriage, branding me a "vessel of filth" before drowning me.
A system glitch prevented my usual reset, leaving me a ghost witnessing Julian confess to a hologram of his dead fiancée, Eleanor Vance.
"Just one more time," he whispered to her, "I only need to kill her one more time."
My mission was a lie: I was "the filth," his target for a relentless, repeating revenge across nine lives, the tenth meant to "reset the world" for him.
He wasn't a man to save; he was a monster.
The profound injustice and betrayal of realizing my entire existence had been a meticulously planned, endless torment ignited a cold fury within me.
My suffering was merely an instrument of his personal vendetta, not a path to rehabilitation.
Then, the world corrupted.
"Reset Initiated. Final Loop Engaged."
I gasped awake at Julian's engagement party, sent back further than ever before.
This wasn' t another chance to heal him-it was my final, terrifying loop to finally escape the monster who' d orchestrated my nine lives of hell.
I was done playing his game. Their Bet, Her Empire
Romance I was just a cocktail waitress at Velvet Orchid, invisible to the elite swirling around me in Beverly Hills. My days were a blur of polished wood and whispered money, my future as uncertain as ever.
Then Chloe Vanderbilt, a notorious socialite, tried to make me polish her scuffed designer heel. When I refused, her eyes narrowed, promising a reckoning. Soon after, charming heir Ethan Sterling approached me with a proposition: a "different, better life."
It sounded like a dream, but my gut screamed warning. I later overheard them in a private booth. Their "generous offer" was a cruel, year-long bet to parade me in luxury, then publicly shatter me to teach "trash like me" a lesson.
They schemed to humiliate me, to prove I didn't belong. The sheer audacity, the calculating malice of their game, shook me to my core.
But as their laughter echoed, a cold, thrilling certainty settled within me. They thought they were building a cage for me. They had no idea they were providing every tool I needed to build my empire. My Wife, The Queen of Fear
Modern My wife, Victoria, laughed too brightly with Julian Thorne, her hand lingering on his arm, a public display of the affair I'd endured for months.
My father’s company was gone, my mother frail from a stroke, and Victoria’s funding kept her alive.
I was just her husband, a ghost.
Then, impulsively outbidding Julian for a priceless patent sparked her cold fury.
She drove me to a derelict warehouse, revealing my sick mother’s hospital bed precariously close to a sheer drop.
"Give Julian the patent," she hissed, "or Sarah will have a terrible accident."
My heart hammered, knowing she'd do it.
She didn’t just threaten; she “demonstrated” by plunging a dummy from the bed, watching my agony with a cruel smile.
Julian, a venomous presence, further destroyed my father’s memory and framed me for violence.
Victoria, blinded by him, deleted my evidence and let me be brutally slapped.
The final blow: she announced her pregnancy—a child I never thought possible—and Julian threatened to destroy it if I exposed him.
How could the woman who once “saved” me, who funded my mother’s life, become this monstrous, manipulative queen, ruling through fear and humiliation?
Why did I allow myself to be trapped in this gilded cage?
What hidden truth transformed my life into this twisted nightmare?
No more.
As I picked up the platinum card she tossed at my feet, I snapped it in half.
My mother’s desperate eyes fueled a cold fury.
I called my old mentor, ready to embrace Project Chimera.
It was time for a new plan, a way out, for both of us. A Decade of Devotion, A Lifetime of Deceit
Romance For ten years, I poured my love and life into Marcus, the charismatic man I considered my future. I supported his ambitions, navigating the complexities of his relationship with his "best friend," Liam, and even overlooking his subtle slights.
But my world shattered when I awoke in a sterile hospital room, weakly clutching Marcus’s hand, only to overhear him on the phone, confessing he'd secretly manipulated me into a bone marrow donation. Not for an infection, but to save Liam.
The betrayal cut deeper than any physical pain. He offered marriage like a consolation prize, an attempt to mend a rift he couldn’t comprehend. The horrifying truth unraveled: my sacrifices for Liam had stretched beyond marrow—he’d coerced me into an abortion, shamelessly abandoned me mid-proposal to comfort Liam, and even offered me up to a ‘mugger’ to save his precious friend. Each revelation was a fresh wound, painting a picture of chilling indifference and a profound, sick devotion to Liam that eclipsed everything else.
How could he consistently choose someone else over me, with such breathtaking callousness? Was I merely a pawn in their self-serving game, a convenient resource to be used and discarded? My heart, battered and bruised, finally hardened into an icy resolve. Enough was enough.
In a desperate, empowering act of self-preservation, I made a call. I was done being his doormat. "I'm leaving Marcus," I rasped, the words heavy yet liberating. "I want in. Marry me. Let's build something that can't be broken." This was my chance to cut ties, to reclaim my worth and finally choose myself. Resurrected: Unveiling the Mystery of Telepathy
Modern I'm a rising star in the art world, but I've been subjected to online harassment due to a plagiarism scandal. Every time I finish a new piece, my boyfriend's "first love" posts an identical painting the very next moment. She portrays herself as a highly educated and talented artist, manipulating public opinion online, which has led to my entire family being targeted by cyberbullying. Yet, behind the scenes, she orders me to keep creating.
I was cornered when I went out and was brutally attacked to death on the spot. My parents, in a state of mental disarray, were driven to depression by the online exposure and turned gray-haired one after another. Before I died, I was filled with regret, wanting to understand what was happening.
When I woke up again, I found myself back on the day before my work was published. You might like
Forsaken by the Pack, Mated to the Secret Lycan King
Da Lanlan For two years, I was Alpha Jase Davenport's loyal assistant and secret bed-warmer. Because I was a wolfless Omega, I trusted his empty promises instead of instincts I didn't possess.
Then, a push notification from a notorious gossip blog shattered my world.
Jase was pictured in Paris, his hand intimately resting on the waist of my cruel stepsister, Kira. The headline screamed that he was finally claiming his fated Luna.
Before I could even process the betrayal, Jase texted me a cold command to update his schedule, treating me like a soulless employee.
Immediately after, my mother called to gloat.
"Did you honestly believe an Alpha like Jase would settle for a defective creature like you?"
She threatened to freeze my late father's Pack trust fund unless I agreed to marry an abusive, elderly Alpha to be his breeding mare. If I refused, I would be cast out as a penniless stray, easy prey for any Rogue.
I was nothing but a convenient placeholder to Jase, and a piece of livestock to my own family. They thought they had me completely cornered, ready to steal my inheritance and leave me to die.
But as the panic subsided, a cold clarity took its place. My father's will only required a legal mating bond to unlock my millions; it never said my family had to approve of the groom.
I wiped my tears, opened my laptop, and searched for a disgraced, debt-ridden Rogue named Babe Vincent.
If I needed a husband on paper to secure my freedom, I was going to buy one. Rejected Luna, Claimed by the King
Rabbit As a wolfless charity case at the Hyde Pack's celebration, my world shattered when Braydon, my supposed protector, publicly announced Katherine Parrish as his Luna, erasing me.
Heartbroken, I fled into a terrifying contract marriage with Alpha King Dallas Marshall for protection. Braydon's public assault and threats forced me to reveal my secret marriage, challenging the King.
My "protection" felt like a prison. Braydon revealed I was a "key" to power, not a mate, confirming my fears. Enraged by my attempt to take a morning-after pill, Dallas forced me to swallow it, then branded my lips with a furious kiss.
His chilling silence hardened my resolve. I immediately drafted an addendum to our contract, setting strict boundaries to reclaim control.
Rejected by the Heir, Claimed by the Lycan King
Annabell Seto I was a wolfless Omega, sold to the powerful Blackwood Pack to save my bankrupt family from ruin.
But on my wedding day, as I walked down the aisle alone, my groom didn't show up.
Braden, the Alpha heir, had abandoned me at the altar. He boarded a private jet with his scentless human mistress, leaving me to face the cruel mockery of the most powerful Alphas in North America.
To clean up his mess, the Dowager Luna offered me two humiliating replacements to fulfill our sacred marriage treaty: a brute who despised me, or a trembling coward who couldn't even look me in the eye.
The pack members sneered, publicly screaming that I was nothing but "leftovers" and a rejected stray.
They expected me to lower my head, accept their scraps, and remain a pathetic pawn in their political games. They thought a fragile, wolfless girl would just break down and cry.
But a white-hot pride ignited in my soul. I refused to be their victim.
I rejected both of their pathetic options and pointed directly at the most terrifying man in the room—the Lycan King himself.
"I demand a replacement. I choose him."
I didn't just escape humiliation; I forced the ruthless King to make me his Queen.
Now, I am the Luna of the entire pack, wielding the power to control their fate, and stepmother to the coward who threw me away.
It's time to teach these beasts exactly who they are dealing with. The Rise Of The Ugly Luna
Syra Tucker Lyric had spent her life being hated. Bullied for her scarred face and hated by everyone-including her own mate-she was always told she was ugly. Her mate only kept her around to gain territory, and the moment he got what he wanted, he rejected her, leaving her broken and alone.
Then, she met him. The first man to call her beautiful. The first man to show her what it felt like to be loved.
It was only one night, but it changed everything. For Lyric, he was a saint, a savior. For him, she was the only woman that had ever made him cum in bed-a problem he had been battling for years.
Lyric thought her life would finally be different, but like everyone else in her life, he lied. And when she found out who he really was, she realized he wasn't just dangerous-he was the kind of man you don't escape from.
Lyric wanted to run. She wanted freedom. But she desired to navigate her way and take back her respect, to rise above the ashes.
Eventually, she was forced into a dark world she didn't wish to get involved with. In Bed With My Ex's Brother-in-Law
Ady Daniels He left her on the streets. His brother-in-law picked her up. and made her his wife.
On the day her ex, Mark, married the wealthy socialite Bella, Elena was thrown out with nothing but the clothes on her back-humiliated, broken, and utterly alone.
Until Eric Thompson appeared.
Bella's older brother. Mark's powerful brother-in-law. And the most feared Alpha in the city.
He offered her a hand when no one else would. Then, he offered her a deal:
A marriage in name only. A shield against her past. A chance to rebuild.
Elena accepted, expecting a cold arrangement between strangers. But behind closed doors, Eric's carefully guarded control unraveled-and so did hers. Their chemistry was explosive, their nights intense, and the lines between business and pleasure blurred beyond recognition.
He was the one man she could never have. and the only one she couldn't resist.
But when Mark realizes what he truly lost, and Bella discovers the secret behind her brother's bride, Elena must decide:
Is this just a contract?
Or is this the love she was always meant to fight for? Alpha's Regret: Losing His True Mate
Only_Shila For years, I belonged to him. Not his mate. Not his love.
But his bedmate. His Gamma. His shadow in the night.
Alpha Calhoun made sure no man dared touch me, no wolf dared look at me. I was his possession, his secret, his sin wrapped in skin. And I endured it all-his rough hands, his dark devotion, his kisses that tasted like fire and chains because at least, for a while, he was mine.
Until she returned. His destined mate. His so-called true love.
And suddenly, I was nothing. Cast aside, silenced, left to wither in the shadows of a love that had never been mine to claim.
But the thing about being claimed by a man like Calhoun. is that he never truly lets you go.
"Try to leave me, Elodie," his voice had been a snarl against my throat, his grip bruising my waist. "I'll burn down every border, tear apart every wolf that stands in my way, until you crawl back to me. You're mine, even if the Moon Goddess herself wants to rip you away."
He didn't know then that I already had one foot out the door.
And when I finally left his pack.
I took more than just my broken heart with me. My Alpha Refused My Dying Rejection
Rabbit My fated mate, Alpha Kaden, watched me die slowly for three years while he groomed his mistress. When our pup withered and died inside me due to his neglect, he publicly accused me of murder. That was the day I stopped dying for him and started living to defy him.
The Pack Healer confirmed our pup's soul returned to the Goddess; Kaden's weakened bond was literally killing me, forcing a procedure to remove the last physical tether. Immediately after, Kaden returned with Cori Mullins, his 'true love', and found me. He snarled accusations I'd destroyed his heir-a lie Cori eagerly reinforced.
He dismissed my cries that he killed our baby, believing their narrative. My inner wolf gave a final gurgling howl as necrosis spread, and he swallowed Cori's lie that she, not me, saved him from rogues. I looked into his eyes and saw only disgust; he deemed my pain a performance, blind to the bond rotting me.
Realizing he would never believe me, I formally rejected him as my Mate. He laughed, dismissed it as a tantrum, and refused to accept. But as he walked away, leaving me to die, I vowed to reclaim my life. I vanished into the night, determined to live for myself, whatever the deadly cost. 
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