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Aftermath Book Two Crash Series

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Blurb

****COMPLETE*****

He's finally gone. the man that's haunted me forever and I should feel free right? I should be happy? Then why is he still here in my nightmares and anytime I close my eyes? I may have gotten rid of my abuser but I paid for it with my own soul and now I need redemption.

Every day Mason grows tenser, more stressed. I can slowly see him unraveling. Yet Edward grows more powerful and the Russian Mob more aggressive. It's only a matter of time before Dixie is lost to Mason and Jaxson forever, leaving thousands unemployed and a legacy ruined.

If Mase is connected to a scandal as huge as this one he'll never be able to run for office and make the changes he desperately wants to see in the world. Changes that are close to my own heart. I can't let his dreams slip away when he's given me all of mine.

That's how I find myself going undercover at night while during the day I'm forced to endure wedding preps alongside a snide Cynthia, opening Shirley's, and forced into therapy.

I mean what can go wrong for klutz like me in the aftermath of a Crash so epic I'll never stop feeling the impacts. Even while lives are threatened and a new Crash is only a matter of when not if.

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Chapter one
  THIS is BOOK TWO, THE FIRST BOOK IS CRASH (A BILLIONAIRE CONTRACT ROMANCE) it can be found exclusively on Dreame. This story is a continuation of Aria and Mason’s struggles to overcome the obstacles in front of them. I recommend reading book one first. You can also follow my author page on f******k. Katrina Miller Author. Enjoy             Blood. Thick, sticky, red blood pools at my feet and covers my hands. Warm drops drip from the tips of my fingers and splash into the thick puddle with a deafening echo in the now quiet room. Shocked and frightened people surround me, their faces were frozen in shock and awe.              Their designer dresses and suits make them look regal and important, something I barely notice, a downfall to spending this amount of time in their gold-encrusted world. Their hair might be perfect, every strand sprayed and slicked into precise and delicate patterns. They might have their nails done and all their bills paid. They might have their makeup done exactly right and they might feel like they are the best this world has to offer but they lack in almost everything important.             Their morals are at the very least warped, at the most non-existent. They have no integrity or respect for anyone beyond their tight but weak circles. They lack love, empathy, or compassion. Most don’t even know what love means or feels like, really any positive non-self-serving emotion.  Even their kids are nothing more than pawns in this long game they seem to always be playing, leaving death and destruction in their desire to win. To be better, bigger, and more powerful than anyone else. No matter the price someone else must pay.             That being said you would think the sight before they wouldn’t surprise them as much as it does. They certainly have more blood on their hands than I do, it’s just not literal. No, they hire people to get bloody for them and ignore the pain they inflict, staying blissfully and willfully ignorant.             They can close their eyes every night and see the next new designer bag and shoes, or their next development and the millions of dollars they’ll be bringing in. They lose no sleep while their victims starve in the streets, cold and alone.             I close my eyes to images that haunt me. Now, I’m my worst nightmare personified. And I’m forcing everyone in the room to take their rose-colored glasses off and see the true nature of the world and how dirty every one of their dressed-up souls really are.             Still, my head spins and my gut churns as my vision clouds over and sweat drips down my neck and slides between my breasts. The silky burgundy gown dips into a low V not going as far as my belly button, instead of stopping halfway between my breasts and my belly button. I looked sexy and wanton earlier but now I look like a demon straight from hell. The fabric is brutally torn, leaving nothing but strings hanging from the exposed skin. In normal times I would be grateful nothing of importance is showing but at this moment it doesn’t even register.             Nothing can touch me, break me, or get through this thick and never-ending nightmare. Right now, my only focus is on the person behind me and the lifeless body a few feet behind them. The only thing that rattles my heart is the truth that pierces right through the scarred tissue.             My knees weaken and groan, my legs wobbling on my broken and unsteady heels. I don’t give in, instead, I lock my knees and stand straighter. Drawing all the hatred, animosity, and disgust I’ve held in for months now shine in my eyes and radiate off my skin in a warning.             They thought they could break me. They thought their manipulations would work, that they could force me to bow like everyone else. They thought they could win.             Finally, it’s time to prove how very wrong they were. 

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