Sinful Crown

SINFUL CROWN AVA HARRISON CONTENTS Author Note Epigraph Prologue 1. Gideon 2. Sasha 3. Gideon 4. Sasha 5. Sasha 6. Gideon 7. Sasha 8. Gideon 9. Sasha 10. Gideon 11. Sasha 12. Sasha 13. Sasha 14. Sasha 15. Gideon 16. Gideon 17. Sasha 18. Sasha 19. Gideon 20. Sasha 21. Gideon 22. Sasha 23. Gideon 24. Gideon 25. Sasha 26. Sasha 27. Sasha 28. Gideon 29. Sasha 30. Sasha 31. Sasha 32. Gideon 33. Sasha 34. Sasha 35. Gideon 36. Sasha 37. Sasha 38. Sasha 39. Gideon 40. Sasha 41. Sasha 42. Gideon 43. Sasha 44. Gideon 45. Sasha 46. Sasha 47. Gideon 48. Sasha 49. Sasha 50. Gideon 51. Sasha 52. Sasha 53. Gideon 54. Sasha 55. Gideon 56. Sasha 57. Sasha Epilogue Want to know more? Sneak peak of Broken Reign Prologue Chapter One Newsletter Mailing List Acknowledgments About the Author Also by Ava Harrison Sinful Crown Copyright © 2022 by Ava Harrison Published by AH Publishing All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, including photocopying, recording or by information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locations is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products, brands, and/or restaurants referenced in the work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. Sinful Crown Cover Design: Hang Le Cover Image: Chris Davis Cover Model: Anthony Greenfield Editor: Editing4Indies, Readers Together Proofreader: Marla Esposito, Comma Sutra Editorial AUTHOR NOTE This book may be triggering. For a full list of triggers head to my website. This is a work of fiction. I took creative liberties in regards to locations, city names, details, and ethics. Enjoy the ride! EPIGRAPH Whatever is done for love always occurs beyond good and evil. -Friedrich Nietzsche PROLOGUE GIDEON Death has never bothered me. It’s inevitable. A slice of nature. One of two guarantees in life. We’re born, and we die. They say it’s getting from point A to point B that sucks. Living that proves difficult. Well, for most. I, for one, live pretty fucking well. The man wedged under my loafer worms, dislodging an old ball of gum from the cement. “P-please.” Unfortunately for him, he’s about to careen headfirst into point B. He might be dying, but I feel no pity for this man after what he did. Whoever left him here did me a favor. He’s practically gift-wrapped. “Can’t hear you.” I slide a pair of leather gloves up my hands. “Try harder.” He splutters beneath me, chasing his next breath like it’s running from him. I don’t usually toy with my victims. This is a courtesy I offer as his friend. As he nears death, it’s my duty to remind him how low he’s fallen. That he, and he alone, is responsible for his current state. If there’s a next life, I’m certain he’ll remember this moment and proceed accordingly. I sigh, bending forward to readjust my grasp on him. “Don’t speak.” Through a lone window on the compound’s roof, a ray of moonlight streaks across the abandoned warehouse. It offers a sliver of illumination in the stark black space. Just enough to expose pale skin and glassy eyes as the body beneath me trembles with a wet cough. The pathetic wheeze echoes off the metal walls, slicing through the silence. A chill races up my neck. This, too, is an unfortunate byproduct of my familiarity with this man. Because I’m expected to calm him. Because I won’t do a good job. And because when I see his soul off to its next destination, I know it will be Hell. Well, that’s not certain. If I were the devil, which has often been speculated, I’d slam the gates shut on him. “I-I…” “Everything will be okay.” I pat his ruddy cheek, checking the Rolex on the same hand. This has gone on long enough. Fresh crimson bubbles out of his mouth, calling me out on my lie. A distinct metallic scent punctuates the revelation. His death is a foregone conclusion. It’s only a matter of time. His lids flutter shut. “I—” It’s all he can get out before his voice cracks. His eyes pop open, and a shadow of hesitation darts from them to me. Roman. His name is Roman, and he isn’t a faceless man. I know him. I know his obsession with smash burgers and chili cheese fries. I know that he once lost half his savings on a ridiculous World Cup bet. That he followed up that loss with the utter destruction of his virginity by his bookie, of all people. A washed-up, chain-smoking former model. We share a past as colorful as a crayon box. This singular brief moment of unease is all I gift him. His death will not be the first I witness. Or the last. Consider it a career hazard. The fruits of my life choices. I am not a good man. And I will never pretend to be. The blood loss rips all focus from his gaze, leaving behind two lifeless, glazed-over orbs. Somewhere, within those dull spheres, there’s an internal battle waging. But pain robs him of whatever he wants to say. His throat bobs with a swallow. I watch blood trickle from his wound. “If there’s something you must say, your window is closing.” The wax-like pallor and sweat beaded on his brow betray his pain. His mouth opens and shuts several times, seeking strength to release words. “M-my.” He coughs, spilling blood past his lips. Sighing, I prop him up. It would be inconvenient if he choked to death