The Price Of His Twisted Love

a Quin

of the headlines, but this was different. Every news channel, every paper, screamed my name. The kidnappers,

"Orphan Hero Saves Tech Princess," the headlines blared. Greyson, a boy no one had known existed, was suddenly a house

ild welfare services. Each time he returned, his expression would be a little m

is hands reaching for me. Before I could even scream, Greyson was there. He moved like a shadow, swift and silent. He grabbed

wn, again and again, on the boy's hand, then his knee. The sickening crunch of bone was a sound I would never forget.

returned to school weeks later, his arm in a sling, he would visibly flinch whe

. Greyson, who was just a few feet away, heard it. He grabbed a champagne flute, not by the stem, but by the bowl, and smashed it against the man's face. The man reeled back, blood blooming across

protected

eve of my wedding, echoed in my mind. He had placed his hand on Greyson's shoulder, his e

ing smile. "May you both be happy

pierced through my reverie. "E

ap air freshener in the county clerk's office, the distant murmur of vo

me more than life itself. The words were a mocke

one he had created. I had sent him photos, hundreds of them, trusting him implicitly.

It was a charade. A weap