- COST OF REVENGE.
- BETRAYAL & DECEPTION.
- LOVE, LUST & LOSS.
- POWER OF FEAR.
- GOOD VS. EVIL.
- POWER & CONTROL.
- LOSS OF FREEDOM
- MOOD: DARK. GRITTY. EMOTIONAL. SUSPENSEFUL.
- "A gripping, dark thriller...perfect enemies-to-lovers story. I couldn't put this book down! If you're looking for a rollercoaster read with a hot alpha, then I highly recommend giving this one a try!" -Elizabeth's Pretty Little Reads
- "Villain" is a brilliantly written thriller that grabs you and will have you on the edge of your seat. A definite must read." - Reader's World Book Haven
- "This is one twist and turn crazy book that has you gasping and shocked!"- Sweet & Spicy Reads
- "Yes, the first two pages ...TWO PAGES will floor you. "- Ramblings From Beneath The Sheets
- "One look at the blurb and I knew I had to read this one!" - Book Bistro Blog
- "Secrets, lies, twists, turns. Some you see coming, some you don't...It will be hard to put this down once you get started! Believe me, you don't won't want it to be over." - S-n-M Book Blog
- "The story has a revenge plot, outlined to make you question everything. Second guessing motives and characters. I was flipping the pages in wonder." Twisted Book Reviews
- "Don't get too comfortable reading this book. Why, you ask? Because it is one wild ride. A giant plot twist with all kinds of insane f*ckery." - Elizabeth Cash, Author
From the Author
RYDER - 21 YEARS AGO
Crimson blood dribbled from my left nostril down to my upper lip. "I love her, Dad." I choked on the tangy copper that swam in my throat and gagged.
Dad's thick fingers crushed my windpipe harder. "You're seventeen, boy. You have no f*cking clue what love is."
I tried to suck in air, but sounded like a beached whale instead. There was so much pressure in my skull I wished it would just explode.
"What will your girlfriend say when I tell her?" Dad spat. "Cassie Sullivan, right? Or is it some other slut this week?" He loosened his grip and I sank to the ground, knees crunching. I wished a sinkhole could just open up beneath me and swallow everything: me, Dad, our house, and all the nightmares that came with it.
"We--we're not just s-screwing around, I s-s-swear. It's not some f-f-fling." I was dizzy from oxygen deprivation, and the stuttering resurfaced like an old friend. "Cas-s-s-sie and I b-broke up two weeks ago," I added, as if that would make me a better man somehow.
"And when exactly did you start f*cking Veronica?" Dad's features were twisted like a mangled slinky. Every pock mark, scar and wrinkle on his face lit up like a battlefield. He wanted war.
We didn't f*ck, we made love, I wanted to say. Instead, I murmured, "We were planning to tell you next week."
"Tell me what, exactly?" Dad scoffed. "That my whore of a wife is cheating on me with my son?" He yanked on a fistful of my black hair, twisting it so hard tears stung my eyes. After the last time he beat me, I'd promised myself I'd never cry in front of him again. I refused to shed tears for this monster. I was worth so much more than the sunken, lost, motherless child he ridiculed and destroyed piece by piece, day by day. I was so much stronger now. Because of her.
"We're moving out. I'll be eighteen next month." I knew exactly what he would say next: that we were making a huge mistake. That I was an ungrateful teenage asshole. A retarded son of a bitch. That the two of us would burn in hell for eternity.
We would never have his blessing; I knew that from the start.
"Like f*cking hell you are!" he roared, his spit flecking my face like paint.
"We already put down a deposit."
"No," Dad growled. "What the f*ck--How the f*ck did you think this would pan out? That you two filthy cheaters would elope and I'd just crumple like a house of cards?"
"We don't need your bless-s-sing, Dad."
"Actually, son, you do. And I will never sign those divorce papers. Nica is f*cking mine. You understand?"
I tried to twist away from Dad's grip, but he ended up pulling out a few tufts of my hair by the roots. My front teeth sank into my bottom lip to stop the terrified screams that threatened to unhinge my jaw. I wanted to shoulder my way out of the backyard, but Dad was 6'5", built like Arnold Schwarzenegger and almost twice my weight. Dad had been a linebacker in college. I was just a twig he enjoyed snapping over and over. I dug my heels into the muddy ground and tried to dodge his swipes, but I wasn't fast enough. The ground was too slippery. I fumbled, and he kicked me in the shins. I sank to my knees. Then, he dealt a mean hook to my jaw. As beads of crimson dribbled down my chin and neck, Dad dragged me by the collar to the toolshed. He let go of me for a few seconds so he could unlock the padlock that kept the gardening supplies safe. While he struggled with the key, I tried to push myself up, only to be met with a boot to the chest. He ground the heel of his work boots into my sternum, making it almost impossible to breathe. I felt as if there was a hole in my lungs; no matter how much air I dragged in, it was never enough.
This time, I was going to die.
This time, I would learn the meaning of agony.
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