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Return Of The Lethal Unwanted Heiress

Author: Breenda

Chapter 1

Word Count: 877 | Released on: Today at 16:33

e through the suffocating afternoo

a totaled Mustang. The toxic smell of mot

is eyes wide as he tried to track her movements. He couldn't. Her hands were

ed cluster of wires with o

it roared to life, the deep, guttural s

back. He stared at the engine like it was

e tossed a filthy rag onto the hood. Her face w

d her, a cracked cell phone

lashed a number

ust washed over her chest. She wiped a streak of

around in the

e. It was arrogant. Impatient. The voice

She reached for the half-empt

rrow morning," Sterling ordered. "No excuses

the can. She popped it open. The sharp hiss

said. Her voic

on the other end of the line. Ste

terling snarled, his voice risin

The icy liquid burned down her

eatened, dropping his voice into a lethal register, "I will pe

Allison like a physi

etal shrieked and crumpled under her grip. Cola spi

ir in the garage suddenly felt too heavy to breathe. He stared at t

She needed that trust fund. Not for the money, but for the safety deposit bo

cles to uncoil. Sh

," Allison said, her voice dropping back to

play games with me, Allison. You have

ne wen

angled soda can across the room. It slammed into the

ing back to those people?" Ri

custom-made tactical knife from the magnetic s

nife into the hidden sheath

," Allison said softly, "I'm t

gritty soap and scrubbed the oil from her hands. The cold water rushe

ht on the band

was dropping. The a

her jeans. She pulled out a small white pill and sw

ns began to recede. A faint flush of color return

e wall. She shoved her arms into the sleeves and zipped it a

over her heavily modified black motorcycle. S

The bike let out a dea

shot out of the dirt lot like a bullet, teari

Chapter End

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Return Of The Lethal Unwanted Heiress

Breenda Modern

“Allison was hiding in a dusty small-town garage, working as a mechanic to suppress the lethal, experimental serum freezing her veins. But a call from her estranged, wealthy father shattered her peace. He threatened to permanently freeze her dead mother's trust fund if she didn't return to the family estate immediately. That trust fund held the only key to the truth behind her past and her survival. When she stepped into the sprawling mansion in her faded hoodie, her family treated her like a stray dog. Her stepmother mocked her cheap clothes, and her half-brother called her a piece of trash. Her father tossed a vocational school enrollment form at her, telling her to learn to sew so they could marry her off to anyone desperate enough. Her perfect, porcelain-doll stepsister Gwyneth even deliberately smashed a glass of boiling milk against her own leg. "Why did you push me?!" Gwyneth screamed, crying tears of fake terror to frame Allison. "You vicious bitch! You're just as sick as your mother!" her father roared, raising his hand to strike her. They looked at her with absolute disgust, thinking she was just a stupid, uncultured hick they could easily manipulate and destroy. They had no idea that the girl standing before them was a lethal operative who already possessed all their offshore tax ledgers and darkest secrets. Allison easily caught her father's wrist mid-air, her grip like a steel vice. "I'm not going to a trade school," she whispered coldly, ripping the form into pieces. "I am going to Crestwood Academy." It was time to take back everything that belonged to her, with interest.”