Love the Way You Lion (Rise of the Resistance #3)

They say grief comes in stages—and I’ve hit them all and circled back for seconds.

Losing Wilde should’ve broken me—but it didn’t.

His mysterious death and Sari’s subsequent manipulations only highligh the toxicity of my relationship with them. She says she wants help grieving, but I know better.

She wants to control me, and I almost fall for it.

My family has to extract me from her clutches; as punishment for escaping, my abusive mate begins a campaign of poison. She whispers lies, stirs rumors, and drags out old promises to sway Taurus and Talia.

It almost drives a wedge between us and our new...

They say grief comes in stages—and I’ve hit them all and circled back for seconds.

Losing Wilde should’ve broken me—but it didn’t.

His mysterious death and Sari’s subsequent manipulations only highligh the toxicity of my relationship with them. She says she wants help grieving, but I know better.

She wants to control me, and I almost fall for it.

My family has to extract me from her clutches; as punishment for escaping, my abusive mate begins a campaign of poison. She whispers lies, stirs rumors, and drags out old promises to sway Taurus and Talia.

It almost drives a wedge between us and our new mates, proving how dangerous my ex is.

The only bright spot is the Company deigning to admit me for agent training, but I can’t even enjoy it before Sari launches a new scheme: resurrecting Wilde.

As if that’s never backfired in every cautionary tale ever written.

I’m officially juggling more emotional grenades than any magical, beast-having, newly preggo chick ever should; still, I have to keep a war from tearing apart our home again.

It takes a lot of work to find balance—even briefly. Then a new relationship dynamic and old insecurities blow it all out of the water.

Despite pretty promises, red flags are everywhere; Rafe bolts, and I’m left wondering if we’re cursed.

I’m done letting others write my story.

This kitty purrs when she’s happy, but she bites when she’s angry—watch your fingers.