She was a ghost, in heels. She was there, then she wasn’t. She would play with my emotions like a well-played guitar. Then she would disappear. Making me want to strangle her. Maybe she wasn’t a ghost, maybe she was the giver of sin. Because we sinned every time we touched, every time she was near. Her lips were shaped like a heart, deceiving you at every word. Her body was created straight from my fantasies, one I craved to bend to my will. Her heart, well, who the hell knew. She kept that shit locked tight. And I couldn’t find the key.

What if I was to tell you, you’re all evil? In some shape or form, you are. What If I was to tell you, I was the worst kind of evil? Would you believe me? I did not believe that there wasn’t anyone who didn’t contain evil. I was proved wrong, and it stumped me. I became obsessed with her, someone of pure goodness. And couldn’t get enough. I needed to see her insides because that’s what I do. Tearing people apart, I have to prove my point. I wanted to split her apart, to find any trace of bad. It was wrong of me to think like that. Though if death is all you know, is it so wrong? My name is Death. Her name is Pollie. And I want to see her insides. Just to understand if she is as pure as she makes out to be.

She was promised to me. I was promised to her. She was the daughter of a drug lord, I was the cousin of one. Together we could have been beautiful. Oh, so beautiful. But beautiful doesn’t factor into my life. Death. Destruction. Pain. That was my life. She’d had her taste of it. But was she really ready for it? Because I lived in hell, and my wife would soon be Satan’s bitch. She wouldn’t be prepared. She could never be.

A heart is something that should not be entrusted to me. I will tear, crush, and destroy it with my very own hands. Then back away with a smile on my face. It’s who I am—a killer, a player, a joker. But hers, I’m unsure about. Do I want to rupture and rip it from her chest? Or do I want to hold and capture it with my own?

All four Books in one! Distrust. Disbelief. Defiancé. Dismissed. Their name has meaning, holds royalty. They aren’t to be trifled with. And if you get too close, prepare to be destroyed—they are the Russian mafia. Gashes and bruises mean nothing to them, blood is what they live by. It’s all they know. So be prepared to enter the ultimate sin, because these boys will take you on a ride, one you may not want to look back on. Prepare yourself to enter all things that are the Smirnov Bratva boys. But hold onto your panties and lock your doors because your world is about to be shattered.