Sarah Bailey

I will bring them the heads of the men known as the Four Horsemen.

Or die trying.

I’d noticed the way he’d looked at her our whole lives. As if she was the sun and he was basking in her fucking glory. Well, now West could bask in her all over again, but this time, the rest of us would too.

She’s ours. She belongs to us. She always has.

The moment she looked up and our eyes met, it was as if all the air had been stolen from my lungs. And for a second, there was recognition in those hazel-green depths. Recognition of who I was to her and who she was to me.

Fuck. I want you. I fucking want you. I can’t stand it.

I’m not sure they realised what I was reading and how I’d become fascinated with the dark and morbid.

“Please… please fuck me, West,”

Act like you didn’t give a shit about her after you’d rocked her world.

At the end, the promise of freedom awaited. And the heavy price I had to pay was a burden I had to live with.

Prescott Ellis. West Greer. Francis Beaufort. Drake Ackley