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Prologue
Max
There was no other way: I had to make Alexandra Fitzgerald suffer. I didn’t have a choice. Her father had ruined my family. It was time for me to ruin him. If I attacked him directly, I’d bring down hell on what was left of my once-powerful family. But his daughter…
Alexandra was a much easier target.
Young. Willowy. Delicate.
Her rosy cheeks and cute little freckled nose gave her an air of innocence, but that was just a pretty lie. Ron Fitzgerald’s daughter wasn’t innocent. There was no way she’d managed to live under the beloved mayor’s roof for twenty-one years without being tainted by his corruption. Not when she was related to that two-faced monster.
Monster. My fingers found the puckered skin that stretched too tight across my brow, obsessively tracing the damage that would never heal properly. The nerves were fried; there was a strange disconnect between my fingertips and my brain. It was like touching someone else’s ruined face, not my own. It still felt foreign to me, even though nearly two years had passed since the fire.
I swallowed the acidic tang at the back of my tongue and focused on my prey, assessing my surroundings. Alexandra would come home soon, and I needed to be ready.
In my meticulous search of her home, I hadn’t found any evidence of her father’s criminal activities. The multimillion-dollar townhouse appeared just as cute and innocent as the young woman herself.
Deceptive. Spoiled. Frivolous.
This was a girly apartment. There was a dizzying amount of pink, for god’s sake. Like everything else about Alexandra, it was a perfectly pretty cliché.
I reached out a gloved hand and snatched up a gilt-framed photo from the ornate marble mantle. My eyes adjusted to the gloom as I focused on the picture, finding Alexandra’s alabaster features first. Even swathed in a shapeless black graduation gown, she seemed to shine with some inner light. Like some kind of goddamn angel with her long, flowing copper hair and luminous, peridot green eyes.
A fallen angel, but her delicate beauty was undeniable. Tempting. Cruel.
Her father’s daughter.
My scar tugged on a frown, and my stomach turned as I was drawn into the photographic image of her luminous green eyes and incandescent smile. Strange, insidious warmth pulsed at the center of my chest, and my thumb traced the curve of her rosy cheek. Surely someone with that smile—like she’d never seen so much as a shadow of the world’s evil—couldn’t be complicit in her father’s crimes.
Tension rippled through my muscles, and my grip on the frame tightened. The crack of glass beneath my thumb pierced my chest like a bullet. For several agonizing seconds, I couldn’t draw in any air.
I closed my eyes and forced my lungs to expand, breathing deep. A low growl slipped between my teeth when I exhaled. I couldn’t allow myself the luxury of having second thoughts. I’d come too far, suffered too much.
If the cost of my revenge was Alexandra’s tears, then she would have to pay the price. No matter how innocent she appeared, those wide green eyes wouldn’t change my plans for her. Before the night was through, I would make the fallen angel weep.
Chapter 1
Allie
He’s a bully and a loser. Don’t let him get to you. Isabel’s message of solidarity lit up my screen, but I couldn’t manage a nonchalant shrug and a wry smile. Not when I was alone, and I didn’t have to force myself to pretend that Gavin didn’t wreak havoc on the confidence I’d painstakingly built over the last three years. I thought I’d escaped his cruelty when we graduated high school, but my own personal demon had followed me to my summer internship with the U.S. Attorney’s Office. Even though I’d landed my dream placement, it would’ve been hard enough to prove myself and escape my father’s larger-than-life shadow. Gavin had turned my biggest opportunity into a nightmare.
I fiddled with my locket—a familiar comfort when I was feeling anxious—as I sent the reply to my best friend: I won’t let him get to me. I’m okay. Love you!
Acting out of habit, I rubbed my thumb over the locket’s gold surface, which was pearl-smooth from years of wear. My first initial was engraved on the front, but the back had become my personal worry stone.
I drew in a deep breath and paused at my front door. I fisted the locket, drawing on the memory of my mother’s strength as I took a moment to repeat the mantra I’d adopted to bolster my confidence: I am strong. I am independent. I can do this.
Bullies like Gavin couldn’t hurt me anymore. I wouldn’t let them.
My phone chimed again. Wanna meet up for a drink? I promised to do some posts about this cool new cantina on the socials. You can vent all about that douchebag over margaritas!
