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The Break of Dawn
The Break of Dawn
The Break of Dawn
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The Break of Dawn

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Cora 'I am all that I need' Richards has a prison reputation for being an ice queen. She exists via a strict code of survival: people equal pain—the end. Surprises lead to disappointment; therefore, Cora won't tolerate the unexpected. Friends? No. Lovers? Never. A hollow nighttime ache in her chest is bothersome, true, but the issue certainly isn't caused by loneliness. Cora knows who she is and what she isn't. She gladly accepts a placement at the Yorkshire Sculpture Park, not to meet the elusive artist, Sky Sunday, but to finish her prison sentence early. It's work, nothing more.

But the breathtaking landscape, woolly lambs, fluffy ducklings, and friendly artists challenge a woman trying not to feel. Life at the Sculpture Park is vibrant, messy, and warm. Still, it would take someone extraordinary to melt an ice queen such as Cora—the end.

Sky Sunday wears dungarees and muddy yellow boots, talks in riddles, listens to Cora's suggestions, and never belittles her. From the first awkward meeting, attraction sizzles between them. But Sky is rubbish at talking. So is Cora. How can two impenetrable women ever get close?

From dawn to dusk, the workers toil on a mysterious, humming sculpture, and nobody knows what it's supposed to be. If they trust their instincts, Sky insists that something unique will happen on Easter Sunday. Cora abandons the last of her ice armour as dawn breaks, but is it too late to be vulnerable and take a second chance?

What happens when an ice queen and a fluffy chick kiss? Can Cora and Sky forget their past and begin a new life together? This story is not the end.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherNineStar Press, LLC
Release dateApr 1, 2025
ISBN9781648908590
The Break of Dawn
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    The Break of Dawn - Eule Grey

    A NineStar Press Publication

    www.ninestarpress.com

    The Break of Dawn

    ISBN: 978-1-64890-859-0

    © 2025 Eule Grey

    Cover Art © 2025 Melody Pond

    Edited by Elizabetta McKay

    Published in April 2025 by NineStar Press, New Mexico, USA.

    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact NineStar Press at Contact@ninestarpress.com.

    CONTENT WARNING:

    This book contains references to drugs, crime, and prisons; references to the social care system; off-page childhood fire; loneliness, anxiety, and mental health issues.

    The Break of Dawn

    Eule Grey

    To those who haven’t yet had the opportunity to shine.

    For Cora and Sky, with love.

    EASTER MONDAY

    For the attention of the prison governor.

    Dear Miss Holmes,

    You’ve already heard about what happened with the egg—it’s all over the media. We received your congratulatory flowers this morning. Thank you!

    First of all, I apologise for not writing before. You asked me to let you know about my journey after we parted. I hadn’t forgotten, but there wasn’t much to say up until now.

    Anyway. Here’s the story I’ve wanted to tell since I was a little girl. The ending is very poetic, or whatever.

    Simply: I shattered on Easter Sunday at the break of dawn.

    Yes, you read it right—I shattered on Easter Sunday at the break of dawn.

    Lol! I wish I could see your face. No doubt you’re raising an eyebrow at my audacity, Miss, and I don’t blame you. Shattered, indeed.

    It happened like this… You know how a chocolate egg explodes when you find a weak spot and poke until the pressure becomes too much for it to bear? The egg cracks; the pieces fall to the sides, and then you find what’s been hiding inside all along.

    Have I lost you yet, Miss? Stay along. It’ll be worth the wait. I promise.

    The chocolate barriers surrounding me came from life’s hard knocks. I truly believed my forever shield would protect me, whatever else had failed. In a way, it did, until Easter Sunday, when my ‘egg’ cracked and fell into pieces, scattering around my feet and ‘dandelioning’ into the breeze. I left it behind and stepped into the light, shivering and bawling, as raw as a newborn chick with ruffled feathers.

    Sadly, there was no chocolate. Not a single piece. Gutting, right? Actually, she and I were so starving afterwards that we ate a double breakfast each before giggling awkwardly at the press. She had stains on her jeans, and I had mud on my nose.

    Onwards. My shattering was devastating and catastrophic, yes. It wasn’t the end of me, though, so don’t worry. I crawled from the wreckage, new and different from what I’d been before. It’s up to you to decide whether I’ve become a better model. She says yes, and as we both know, she’s nearly always right.

    Just read the story.

    Ex-inmate number: 675342

    Chapter One

    FEBRUARY 1

    It started with a shout.

    Richards! Gov’s office.

    The yell left a deafening silence in the dining hall. Chatter ceased, the insistent bang-bang of doors stopped, and even the pitter-patter of rain on the windows faded as if it knew that a shout from Miss Holmes always signalled terrible news, and especially for me—my prison release date was mere months away.

    Potential crimes flashed through my mind. Had I left a mess in the kitchen during my shift? Did I piss someone off? Had my sentence been lengthened due to a technical hitch?

    It wouldn’t be the first time they’d messed up the dates. Three sentences ago, a fight led to six additional weeks on the wing. Gah. The incident hadn’t been my fault. When someone insulted me, I fought back. If you didn’t stand up for yourself, you’d end up on the floor with a broken nose.

    When the yell settled, the women gleefully nudged one another, glad to see me in trouble—I wasn’t popular.

    My roommate, Jenny, tugged insistently at my standard prison-grey sleeve. "Cora. You better go. She sounds pissed."

    We exchanged worried looks. I stood as if to head to the office but legged it to our room instead, my stomach clenching about the bottle of hooch brewing beneath my bed. Jenny and I had started the brew a few weeks before. I’d reckoned we could celebrate my release with a few drinks. After eight months of sharing a cell, we’d grown pretty close. As close as I allowed people, anyway, which meant a chasm the size of a planet crouched between us. We were very different. Jenny carelessly revealed every facet of her life as we lay in our beds, whereas I shared bare essentials, such as my favourite brand of chocolate. Stuffed animals covered her bed while mine was bare. Enough said.

    The hooch was not the problem. Bubbling quietly and consistently, our concoction hadn’t been discovered. Hooch constituted a minor offence anyway. What the hell else had I done?

    The officer shouted again, more aggressively. Richards! Gov’s office.

    The tone of her voice pissed me off. I wouldn’t go without a fight. Yeah, I should’ve accepted defeat and walked to the office with a sorry expression. Only a spanner with a death wish as strong as the undead would have ignored a call from the governor. I didn’t say sorry or play nice. Thirty-two was too old to change the habits of a lifetime.

    Jenny thundered into our cell, banging the door behind her. "Did someone snitch? You better go before you get a warning." At forty, she was serving her first sentence, naïve as a baby. Jenny still believed the prison rules existed to protect us, bless her cotton socks.

    I made myself comfy on the bed. Nope. Miss Snotty Holmes will have to come and fetch me.

    Years of practice in front of a mirror hadn’t been wasted. I could steel my face into an impenetrable fortress without much effort. Nobody saw the real me, the kid who’d cried during beatings and hoped her momma would visit at the children’s home over Christmas time.

    Needless to say, my weak years were a very long time ago.

    Jenny adopted her melting-biscuit look. She was pretty, with an expressive face that hid nothing. My helpful lessons about concealing one’s feelings hadn’t done anything for her. She cried or shouted wilfully, drawing attention, revealing weaknesses and vulnerabilities she should’ve kept hidden. I’d probably have demanded a new cellmate months ago if she wasn’t so kind. Oh, I didn’t like her—god forbid. Jenny was inoffensive to live with. Like and dislike had become irrelevant feelings to me. But she never gave up trying to improve or save me, the poor woman.

    Jenny hovered at my bedside, looking like the apocalypse was coming, bristling with kindness. Go and see what Miss wants? Maybe it’s good news. You know they’ve been handing out certificates from education this week? You did well in your exams. She nodded encouragingly as if I were a silly kid needing a hug rather than a tough bitch who could cope with any amount of trouble. Bring it on.

    She lunged. I held my breath, willing her not to touch. Jenny had a crush on me. It wasn’t unusual. Most women inside welcomed a ‘special relationship’ with a roommate. Not me. Jenny had attempted many touchy-feely incidents over the months. Obviously, I’d ignored them all. Whether hand-holding or hair brushing, every contact was disgusting to me. Why would I welcome another woman’s baggage on top of my own? No. It was better to be alone than abandoned. Hugs equalled pain. The end.

    Jenny attempted a sudden, unexpected hug. Aww, babe.

    I held up a practised iron fist. "Don’t touch me and never call me babe." It was laughable and sad how she shrank back, believing I would hurt her. I never would. Jenny might be a nuisance, but she didn’t deserve or need a slap, only a little reminder now and then about boundaries.

    She abruptly drew her hand back. I just wanted— She sounded wounded, almost tearful.

    The grief in her eyes was too much. I closed my eyes.

    "Yeah, well, don’t tell

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