Vicious Lies (Lies 1)

I consider tossing the letter in the trash and not taking the issue any further, forgetting that it even happened. But I didn’t survive this long by tossing away idle threats.

I will kill you.

This isn’t the first time someone has made a threat like this against me.

I will kill everyone you love.

Again, not new. I just thought I was passed this part of my life. I thought I was done living in this dangerous, vicious world. One where there are no winners—at least, I never win. I just survive.

I thought, just like letter writing, this part of my life was buried in the past.

I tap my painted red nails against my desk as I read the letter over two more times. Nothing hints at who the author is. There is no name scrolled across the bottom. Like I thought—wuss.

But that doesn’t mean there aren’t hints of who my enemy is. The way the letter is scribed tells me it’s a man who wrote it. It was scribbled quickly with a pen almost out of ink on a piece of computer paper. This note was written last minute; it wasn’t thought through.

And it didn’t arrive in an envelope in the mail. It was stuffed loosely into the mailbox. I wouldn’t be surprised if I found fingerprints.

Whoever sent this is an amateur, or at least, wants me to think he’s an amateur.

I’m not an amateur. As much as I never thought I would know how to hold a gun, fire a weapon, hunt down men, rescue myself, I’ve never had a choice in the matter. My entire life I’ve lived in a cruel underworld of men who controlled everything. Men who had no right to own anything. Men who ruled with guns and darkness in their hearts, taking no prisoners. Taking what they wanted without concern of whom they hurt.

I used to be a princess in a world filled with dangerous men. I used to have friends who would protect me above everything else.

But things started slowly changing when my best friend, Enzo Black, fell in love. And then Zeke, my other protector, fell in love next. It’s only a matter of time until Langston, the playboy of the group, falls in love.

I could call any one of them to take care of the man who sent this threat. Enzo, Zeke, or Langston all have the power and abilities to handle this man without lifting a finger. That’s what they do—kill dangerous men. They protect their family, which used to include me.

Until they failed me.

Until they fell in love.

Until I decided I didn’t want to be a damsel in distress, waiting for a man to come and rescue me.

I saved myself.

I picked up every broken, shattered piece and put myself back together, painstakingly, piece by piece.

I’m whole now—even if the pieces don’t fit together the same as they did before.

I’m a survivor—that’s the term used to describe me. It’s a term I hate, because I didn’t just survive, I thrived. I fought back; I rescued myself. I’m a fucking knight in red high heels.

So while I could call my friends to save me and take care of this, I’m not going to. I haven’t asked any one of them for help in years, and I’m not going to start now.

I lift my glass of scotch from my desk and swirl it around until the single ball of ice shifts in the glass, making a delicious rattling sound before I take a sip. I’m a woman in a man’s world, but that doesn’t mean I let the men rule me anymore. I won’t give any man power over me—never again.

So that leaves me two choices. I can toss this letter in the trash and ignore it completely. There is a large chance whoever sent it will never grow enough balls to actually act on his threat. Or I go back into the world I never thought I would enter again.

A world of danger.

Cruelty.

Vows.

And lies.

A world that once consumed me. A world that turned me into the cold, heartless woman I’ve become. A world that took everything from me, yet gave me my power.

I thought I was done.