Frozen Heart by E.M. Shue EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Authors: E.M. Shue
- Language: English
- Genre: Action & Adventure Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
FOUR AND A HALF YEARS LATER
My boot slams against the door by the knob, and I watch as it blows
inward. Bodies line the floor. A family. Men, women, children. They
are bloody, beaten, and the women have been raped. I hold my
stomach back as the smell of sex, sweat, and feces hits my nose. These
people were tortured before they were killed. Behind my balaclava, a flush
of sweat coats my skin.
Hearing a grunt, I swing my gun to the side. The
scene I entered on stopped me from doing a proper room sweep. A mistake
like that could cost me my life. I see a man dressed in all black like me
rutting into a body. The woman he’s on top of stares back at me in pain and
fear before her eyes glass over, and I know she’s gone. I’m about to scream
when I recognize her. I thought I had saved her. A blade slams into my gut,
and I look up into the face of my enemy.
Roger, the man I had let into my body, has betrayed me. He found her,
and now she’s dead.
I scream and fight until I feel a warm body against mine. The wiry fur
and the whimper bring me back from the darkness. The nightmare fades
away, and I open my eyes to the sunrise. I don’t have curtains on the
windows yet. I have one-way bulletproof glass installed but no other
window treatments.
Rolling into my dog’s body, I wrap my arms around him. “Thank you,
buddy.” I scratch his ears like he likes. “Murtaugh, you’re the man. But we
are getting too old for this shit.” I quote the line from the movie he’s named
after. He and his brother are trained to protect, but Murtaugh has the more
intensive training to aid and help me with my PTSD.
I roll from the bed away from him and stand up. Groaning, I stretch my
body. Muscles line it, making me look less feminine, but I don’t care. I can
kill someone a hundred different ways now. I’ve taken the training the
military gave me and expanded on it. I’m more of the deadly weapon they
created today than back when I ran ops.
Moving toward the shower, I don’t turn on any lights so I won’t see
myself in the mirror. I can’t stand to look at myself anymore. I’ve been
working with a therapist for years. She’s made several suggestions, but
none of them have worked.
I’m broken.
The warm water sluices off my body, and I quickly wash up, making
sure my thick, shoulder-length dark mahogany hair is clean. I grab a towel
off the warming bar and wrap it around myself before I finally flick on the
lights.
Babushka, my grandmother, always said moisturizer was a girl’s best
friend. So I apply some with sunblock on my face before I pull my hair
back into a tight bun low on my head. I’ve worn this style for years. I can’t
stop myself from it. Looking into the mirror, I really take myself in.
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