Is There Freedom in Captivity? Silas When he died, I couldn’t pull breath into my lungs. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. His death should have released me. All it brought me was a fractured soul. Many long nights after his death were spent wishing for one more night, one more day. One more second of the profound control Aleksander held. Begging was ignored. Refusing him wasn’t an option. I loved every heart-pounding second. He pulls me under like a dense fog. I’m not going down the rabbit hole, I live there now. Only Oliver can guide me out for short doses of reality. But I’ve sipped Aleksander’s viperous cocktail again, and I’m hooked. I don’t want to face the days without him anymore. We had a horrible beginning, an even worse middle, what are the chances that we could have an amazing end? Oliver I didn’t have parents. I had Silas, my brother-dad. He’s been my world and he gave me the world. I want the same for him, even if what he wants is dangerous. I’ve always been his compass, his strength, and his kryptonite. Thank God for that. Those might be the only things saving him from being ripped away from us. But the happily-ever-after of all, including Dad, depends on how much I let him go. Letting him go means that I risk losing him forever. Can I let him go without sacrificing him to the devil he loves? Darius Well, dayum. Looks like I could get out of hell before either of my brothers, who woulda thunk it? But I’ll never leave them behind. First, though, show Asher where he belongs with the major’s help—I think we all know what that means. Then, make sure my ex-dad doesn’t take everything that kept me hanging on for nearly two decades. Are we enough to take on the force that nearly destroyed us? The captivating final pages of the Randall brothers’ heart-wrenching trilogy. Join the brothers of heartbreak for tears, tenderness, and some of the steamiest moments Miss Mock (S. Legend) has ever written. Yes, this book is definitely Hot Pink Peaches verified. Several times over. Tropes Forbidden Love Spanking Found Family Hurt/Comfort Age Gap Trauma Polyamory Daddy Kink Dom/Sub
Author
Some of you know her as Mock, others as S. Legend, or Miss S. She welcomes all names but will often go by Mock, a name given to her by her readers. Mock is an ambitious creative, weaving the most precious aspects of her soul into stories. She is an architect, building fascinating worlds, designed from inquiry, rooted in worldly wonderings. It’s an intuitive process where she is the scribe, the translator, the conduit. It helped that storytelling was the language spoken at home. One simply didn’t say, “We have an ant infestation,” in Mock’s family it was, “I was on my way to the living room, when a peculiar ant crossed my path. I looked to my right, a suspicious line of them marched toward the pantry. In that moment I knew; my kitchen was under siege.” The natural flow of conversation always took this form. And so. When Mock wrote her first novel, she didn’t plan it chapter by chapter, there was no outline, no “plotting” to speak of. But she didn’t “pants” it either, she didn’t make it up as she went along. She knew how the story felt, where it curved in places and hollowed in others; she knew the destination it rushed toward. Instead of orchestrating, she let the world inspire her, and held space for the words to come, trusting the characters knew what they were doing. All she had to do was tell a story, as she always had done; like breathing. This is her peace, her healing and solace: Gifts better shared. Mock’s works are the comfort you seek when you need to come home. Her unique writing style will take you, wayfaring reader, to unexpected destinations. She always says, “I’m not in the business of making up stories, I couldn’t if I tired. I’m lucky enough to get picked to share someone else’s story when I ask a question to the universe. Someone answers; I write it down.”
