Contents
Dedication
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Part II and III
Acknowledgments
More from the author
About the Author
Crossfire
Anna Widzisz
CROSSFIRE
Copyright © Anna Widzisz, 2020
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any matter whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, business, events and places are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
Book and cover design by Books and Moods
Edited by Zuzanna Raczyńska and Miruna Popescu
Trigger warning:
“Crossfire” contains graphic violence, sex and adult situations some may find offensive.
To those who carry the weight of the world on their shoulders and no one even notices. You're doing great. Keep going.
Part I
Chapter One
Sacrifice is what we do for the people we love.
That has been Savannah Quinn’s mantra ever since she was a little girl. In the darkest night when fear and sadness were all she felt, she kept on repeating it to herself. When everything was wrong, this had to be enough. Because she had nothing else to help her make it through another hardship.
At first, she didn't believe it. Love was a distant, intangible feeling in her own life. No one had ever truly shown her what it was.
For who could have?
She was fairly certain that her parents weren't familiar with this emotion either. Towards each other, or her. Father only ever acknowledged her existence when he stumbled home drunk. A high level of alcohol running through his veins. Exposing a child to this sight was anything but love. Yet there was something much worse. The man not only failed at showing her love, but he also felt content to release his inner monster when the alcohol started washing off, leaving him angry.
That's when the dread overflowed her body. That's where the fear peaked within her.
She remembered it as if it were yesterday. His big hand rising along with the hair on her neck. She couldn't look. She always closed her eyes and waited for the blows. Each one was like a testament to her miserable existence.
It happened many times, to the point where she couldn't remember her life before.
Bruise after bruise.
Cut after cut.
And they always healed, however, they remained as something more than skin deep.
That's how little she meant to James Quinn.
What's worse? People saw that but no one bothered to ask. School was only ever meant to teach useless things. Only booklore. Teachers looked at Savannah's tired face, covered with questionable blemishes and turned their heads the other way. Pretended as if nothing was wrong. Kids were reckless so they could do it to themselves. And even though the girl would never tell anyone the truth, she wished someone cared enough to ask.
The system was broken. It had nothing to do with saving those in need. Women, children, orphans, single mothers, abused wives. They had no one to turn to. Because for people it was easier to tell yourself that nothing was wrong than to fix it.
The only relief Savannah experienced was when the man left. After a long and extremely loud fight with his wife, he grabbed his things and that was the last they saw of him. It was sudden. Out of nowhere. And because of that, Savannah kept asking her mother about it for a while. Not realizing that her nightmare, caused solemnly by her father, was over.
She heard the fight, but her mind decided to block it out and she couldn't remember what it was about. She was sitting in the corner of her little brother's, Aiden, nursery, looking after him. Making sure that he wouldn't wake up.
She was glad that the boy was so little that he'd never in a million years remember any of this. And as she came to terms with her father leaving, she believed it was the end of her horrors. With bruised arms, legs and cuts all over her face and stomach, Savannah believed in a better day.
What a stupid girl she was.
Yet, she hadn't realized it until she saw her mother following her husband's footsteps from a month ago, dragging her suitcase down the stairs. In the middle of the night. No words, excuses or apologies. Leaving her children.
That's how little she meant to Elizabeth Quinn.
Savannah was eighteen at the time. Barely of age. And without any knowledge of how the world worked. All she ever knew was pain and failure. Quite frankly, the only thing she was sure of then, was that she was on her own, with a three-year-old to protect. Something she sure as hell didn't know how to do and needed to figure out. Yet giving him up was never something she considered.
That's where the real struggle began.
Those beatings? Name callings? That was nothing compared to the nightmares lurking in the shadows, simply waiting for her to get back on her feet just to knock her down again. Crush her to the point where she wasn't certain she could do it anymore.
But she did.
Long sleepless nights, worried that she wasn't going to make it through another day. Spoiler alert - she always did. For two years she was giving her all. Being the best role model possible to Aiden. Taking care of him, helping and, most importantly, protecting him.
Something she had never experienced herself.
This night, too, she was fighting against the tiredness. After an almost thirteen-hour shift, she could barely keep her eyes open. But when she glanced at the clock above the entrance, there were still twenty minutes left before she could close the diner and go back home.
”Savannah, I’m going to close the kitchen earlier. Would
