Keeper Of Sins Sanctuary Duet Book 2 – Tatiana Creed

I open my mouth to scream, not for help, but for rage, for Cassian, for myself. The ceiling explodes. It’s not a metaphor. The world detonates into sound, force, and white light. One second there is a low ceiling over us, red bulbs, velvet panels, cameras blinking. The next there is a roar like the earth itself just tore, a flash that turns everything stark, and then chunks of plaster and panel rain down.

The floor heaves. The men at the bars are thrown backward, their bodies slamming into the glass. One bounces off and hits the ground. Another’s mask cracks, a line down the middle. Their curses are drowned by the building’s own scream: alarms howling, a shrill, rising wail that stabs through the music. The bass dies. The speakers squeal and go dead.

The handler loses his footing and stumbles into the cage, his knee slamming into my ribs. Air leaves my lungs in a rush. He scrabbles for the chain, trying to keep me pinned as the whole room tilts again. The glass panels shatter in sections, spiderweb fractures racing across the surface before it bursts outward. Patrons shriek as shards rain down.

Some try to run for the doors; others drop and cover their heads. Drinks spill, liquid and ice mixing with glitter and blood on the floor. Smoke pours from a newly opened wound near the back wall, thick and grey, curling along the ceiling before rolling down. The taste of it hits my tongue: drywall dust, burned wiring, and something chemical and bitter. My ears ring, muffling everything. For a second all I hear is my own heartbeat jackhammering in my chest.

Then other sounds filter in under the alarms. Shouting—not the smooth commands of club staff, not the practiced calm of Caldwell’s handlers, but something sharper and clipped. “Left corridor clear!” “On me!” “Down! Down!” Language shaped by training, not service industry scripts. Military. My pulse stutters, then surges.

Cassian, I think, and the thought is so loud it feels like I shouted it. I don’t know yet what’s coming through the smoke. I don’t know who walks out of this room and who gets swallowed by it.

Copyright © 2025 by Tatiana Creed. All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of the book only. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form, including recording, without prior written permission from the publisher, except for brief quotations in a book review. OceanofPDF.com Contents CHAPTER 1 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 2 – AURORA CHAPTER 3 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 4 – AURORA CHAPTER 5 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 6 – AURORA CHAPTER 7 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 8 – AURORA CHAPTER 9 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 10 – AURORA CHAPTER 11 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 12 – AURORA CHAPTER 13 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 14 – AURORA CHAPTER 15 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 16 – AURORA CHAPTER 17 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 18 – AURORA CHAPTER 19 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 20 – AURORA CHAPTER 21 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 22 – AURORA CHAPTER 23 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 24 – AURORA CHAPTER 25 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 26 – AURORA CHAPTER 27 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 28 – AURORA CHAPTER 29 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 30 – AURORA CHAPTER 31 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 32 – AURORA CHAPTER 33 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 34 – AURORA CHAPTER 35 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 36 – AURORA CHAPTER 37 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 38 – AURORA CHAPTER 39 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 40 – AURORA CHAPTER 41 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 42 – AURORA CHAPTER 43 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 44 – AURORA CHAPTER 45 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 46 – AURORA CHAPTER 47 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 48 – AURORA CHAPTER 49 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 50 – AURORA CHAPTER 51 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 52 – AURORA CHAPTER 53 – CASSIAN CHAPTER 54 – AURORA CHAPTER 55 – CASSIAN EPILOGUE – ONE YEAR LATER OceanofPDF.com CHAPTER 1 – CASSIAN The bunker was never meant to feel like a tomb.

When I designed it, I asked for efficiency, not comfort. Concrete, steel, and redundant power. A heart that could keep beating underground if the rest of the body failed. Two days ago, it was just that. A heart. Tonight, it’s a mausoleum with my pulse trapped inside it. I haven’t slept since the night they took her. Two days of replaying angles and routes have sanded away everything I have to spare; whatever is left feels raw and wrong. I caught one of the med techs watching me earlier, whispering to another guard that I don’t look like myself.

They’re right. The version of me they’re used to lives upstairs with a pressed suit and polite smiles. He didn’t make it down here. The man down here is something else. Every screen is on. Thirty-two feeds flicker across the main wall. Four are frozen, larger than the others.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: b62ec96ba537abc2
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 2,428,860 bytes (2.316 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 462
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 668.25 minutes
• Total Words: 133,651
• Total Characters: 743,967
• Average Words per Page: 289.29
• Average Characters per Page: 1610.32

Most Frequent Words

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