Seeing as we've hit the one month mark to release book one in the Written in Sin due, I thought I'd realease the first chapter of Vengeance to give you a little sneak peak of what you're in for 😏

My hands will forever be stained with blood.

My soul eternally corrupted by the slayings I’ve committed.

If you were to ask me if I regret any of it?

I’d tell you no.

Because my intentions are pure.

To rid the world of people like them.

Who take and destroy and never face the consequences of their actions.

I know that kind of makes me a hypocrite—I’ve never been caught yet either.

But where my entire purpose is centred around revenge, theirs is around exploitation.

They’ve been corrupted by their greed, their power.

Their secret.

It doesn’t take a genius to work out they’ve been conditioned that way. The evidence I have proves it.

The average person might listen to this and think I’m crazy, but I’m not.

My sanity is fully intact.

The only person who can truly judge me is the devil, and he’d probably welcome me with open arms.

“Pl-Please.”

I roll my eyes at the waste of a man slurring a plea in front of me. Clutching his side to contain the blood pooling out of it, his unsteady feet crunch in the shattered whiskey glass on the once pristine floor.

Scarlet liquid drips onto the crystalware, spreading the shards out like a pocket of the rarest diamonds.

How pathetic.

Imagine, having all this money and power, and you choose to have plain old, tiled floors. Where is the marble?

Where’s the shiny reflective natural stone beneath your feet? The material so expensive, you can see your reflection through the blood.

It’s sickeningly poetic to watch them see themselves, their lives flashing before their eyes. I wonder if they see all of their favourite memories.

Does it include milestones?

The moment they’d written their lives in sin?

Or are they filled with the same sick thrill they got when they assaulted innocent women?

Hell, there might be a dozen of them. I didn’t dig back that far. The results that pulled up on his report for the date I had in mind were enough for me.

A pitiful laugh leaves me as he watches with unfocused eyes. I guess I’ll never know if it contains the good times.

Just like the woman I reached out to, our lives were ruined. All the goals I once thought I’d have?

Gone.

Tarnished.

Nothing but a wishful memory.

He slides down onto the floor, dragging the bar stool with him which shatters the silence. A sick smile spreads across my face; at least he’s contributing to the mess I made. Makes it a bit easier when there’s signs of struggle.

I’ve turned this entire ground floor into a wreck, smashed the window to get in, emptied a few drawers.

You’d take one look at this place and think a damn raccoon on steroids has had a field day in here. But those little trash pandas are a bit tame to be compared to when my darkness takes over.

I think I steer towards a polar bear.

Blending in with my exterior surroundings, looking cute enough to approach. But how does the saying go? Fuck around and find out?

Yeah, that’s more like me.

It’s nothing personal between him and I, per se. He’s never physically done anything to me. We don’t even run in the same circles—not that I’d want to. But he’s a part of them.

Each with something sick and deluded imprinted in their DNA. They don’t see what they’ve done as wrong, and they don’t get punished for it either. They have the resources to do as they please.

I might never be able to clear the world of them entirely, but working through a list of them is better than nothing.

He crawls along the floor, desperately trying to reach his phone that’s just a few feet away from him.

I didn’t put too much in his drink; having him completely unconscious takes away the fun.

Besides, six years ago, I wasn’t given much either.

Whether that was my perpetrator’s intentions or not, I was lucid enough to know what was happening to me.

He grips the phone, his hand waving side to side as he tries to unlock it. His useless struggle forces a huff past my lips, and I take a step closer, the glass beneath my feet crunching as it mixes with the amber liquid.

Crouching down to my knees, I let the gun dangle from my grip, the steel groaning beneath my leather-gloved hand.

His breathing is shallow, the adrenaline from his fear fighting against the drugs slowing his nervous system, the spike in his heart rate as he tries to comprehend what’s happening to him.

“You haven’t even asked me what I want. Usually they assume I’m a burglar,” I taunt, tilting my head as he leans on his side, staring up at me.

The lines around his eyes are pinched together; he wants to close them, to let the toxins in his system lull him under.

He’s fighting the inevitable.

“Y-You’ve no idea who I fucking am. I-I’m calling—”

“Police? Yeah, thought you might say that. They’ll help you, won’t they? Your buddies on your payroll. They’ll have someone over here in a heartbeat. The response time is what, seven, eight minutes? I bet they get here in two when they hear it’s you.”

He frowns, one finger hitting the nine, but he’s too engrossed in me to hit the next one.

“I’m not here to take anything from you… Well,” I chuckle, waving my gun in the air, “not any of this shit. Although I’ve pocketed a couple items to keep up the facade. See, I’ve got quite the piggy bank of my own thanks to killing men like you… Anyways, your wife has already split some of the funds you had squirreled away. She sends her coldest regards by the way.”

He narrows his eyes on me, finger managing to hit the one.

He can’t see who hides under the mask, only my eyes. My smile is evidently clear through the balaclava. Eyes crinkled at the sides, the dilated pupils letting him know just how fucked he is.

“I-I d-don’t—”

“You wouldn’t understand. Because the way you live, it’s likely all you’ve known. You’ll never have justice reprimand you for your actions… Not until me of course.”

I stand, turning my back to him as I take a couple steps away. His blood will coat invisible stains on my hands; I don’t need it splattering on my clothes.

Anger seems to pierce through the fog and allow him to find his words.

“You’re so f-fucked… You won’t get away-y with this… Who are you?” he slurs, head weaving around as he fights the darkness.

I don’t have much time; he’ll succumb to it soon, because he feels so tired. The adrenaline coursing through him has allowed him to stay lucid enough to talk to me.

My gaze stays locked with his unfocused one, raising my gun and aiming it right between his eyes.

He’s the devil’s problem now, and I want him to suffer, I really fucking do.

But the fear in his eyes is satisfying enough, knowing he’ll never torment another living being.

“Just a girl with a need for vengeance.”

Bang.