Where Broken Wings Fly

WHERE BROKEN WINGS FLY BRIAR VALLEY #1 J ROSE WILTED ROSE PUBLISHING CONTENTS Trigger Warning Lola’s Letter Prologue - Willow 1. Willow 2. Willow 3. Killian 4. Willow 5. Zach 6. Willow 7. Willow 8. Killian 9. Willow 10. Willow 11. Zach 12. Willow 13. Willow 14. Micah 15. Willow 16. Willow 17. Killian 18. Willow 19. Willow 20. Zach 21. Willow 22. Willow 23. Micah 24. Willow 25. Willow 26. Killian 27. Willow 28. Willow 29. Zach 30. Willow 31. Willow 32. Willow 33. Micah 34. Willow 35. Willow Epilogue - Killian Playlist Acknowledgments About the Author Newsletter Also By J Rose Copyright © 2023 J Rose Published by Wilted Rose Publishing Edited by Nice Girl Naughty Edits Proofreading by The Eclectic Editor and Zoe Reading Cover Design by TRC Designs All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters and events are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, establishments or events is coincidental. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used without the express permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in the context of a book review or article. ISBN (eBook): 978-1-915987-07-5 ISBN (Paperback): 978-1-915987-08-2 www.jroseauthor.com DEDICATION For all the women just waiting to be rescued by a shirtless mountain man. Here, have three instead. TRIGGER WARNING Where Broken Wings Fly is a small town, reverse harem romance, so the main character will have multiple love interests that she will not have to choose between. This book is dark in places and contains scenes that may be triggering for some readers. This includes human trafficking, forced marriage, domestic abuse, sexual assault, self-harm, unplanned pregnancy and a miscarriage. If you are triggered by any of this content, please do not read this book. “You know that to love is both to swim and to drown. You know that to love is to be whole, partial, a joint, a fracture, a heart, a bone. It is to bleed and heal. It is to be in the world, honest. It is to place someone next to your beating heart, in the absolute darkness of your inner, and trust they will hold you close.” - Caleb Azumah Nelson Willow, I know that you don't know me, and right now, you probably think that you're all alone in the world. It shouldn't have taken your father's death to bring us together, but I need you to know that you have a family. I am your grandmother, and I love you very much. Please let me help you. Come home, Willow. Your family is waiting for you in Briar Valley. Yours, Lola Castlemore PROLOGUE - WILLOW OUTRUN MYSELF - JACK KAYS & TRAVIS BARKER Smile. Pretend you like it. Pretend you love it. Bag the cheque. The day I set foot in my first strip joint, driven by starvation and desperation, I was taught one invaluable lesson. Life is nothing without suffering. I’m not talking about the kind of pain that you discuss over fancy coffee and a box of tissues. Nor the kind that wins expensive book deals or documentaries on prime-time television. I’m talking about the quiet kind of suffering, reserved for the empty space between existing and living. Not pretty. Not sellable. Not inspirational. It’s more of a deafening ache that never abates. I learned to occupy that space from a young age. Doing homework amongst the discarded needles and breathing in secondhand fumes while my father shot up instead of, you know, being a fucking parent. I’m still here, years later. Even though he’s dead, life never got better. Staring into the depths of my bright, hazel eyes, I blink tears aside. The outfit I’ve been assigned to wear tonight is unbearable. A string bikini top and matching thong, with towering high heels that I haven’t quite mastered walking in. This is only my third shift. “Five minutes!” Mario yells. “Move it, sluts!” Shaking myself out of it, I swipe bright-red lipstick across my generous pout. My coal-black hair lies in natural ringlets, cascading down my near-skeletal frame. I haven’t got the curves of the other girls, who are all older than me. I had to beg Mario for a job and kiss his slimy ass to convince him to overlook my age. While everyone I used to know finishes school and begins to plan for their bright, promising futures, I’m getting ready to take my clothes off and give perverts lap dances. Damn, Willow. This is a low point. Working here is a last resort, despite the handwritten letter screaming at me from my discarded coat pocket. The words have played on repeat in my head ever since. I’d rather sell my soul than go searching for some long-lost relative of my father who is trying to lure me in. I have enough problems to deal with because of him. “You ready, Willow?” Lia throws an arm around my waist. “Come on, you don’t want to piss off Mario tonight. He’s on the warpath and will only dock your wages for it.” “Sure,” I mutter. “What’s up?” “Nothing. Just didn’t sleep well.” With a wink, she flourishes a clear baggie, full of white powder. “Have a bump. It’ll take the edge off. Trade secret.” She tips some onto the back of her hand before snorting it up. Shaking my head, I inch backwards, nearly falling straight on my ass in these stupid heels. “I’m fine, thanks. I’ll grab a shot or something.” “You sure?” She frowns. “Yeah. See you out there.” “Suit yourself, newbie.” Turning on my heel, I stumble away before she can force the drugs up my nose. All of the girls here do it. Some even take it from the customers, uncaring of the risk. It makes it easier to do this job every day, I suppose. The sultry smiles come far more naturally, and your hips sway that little bit extra when you’re too high to be disgusted. Heading out