Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 128356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Can I outrun his merciless obsession?
I accidentally witnessed a brutal murder.
I froze, pretended I saw nothing, hoping I could leave it behind.
But my plan backfired, and my life spiraled downward.
Now, I’m the target of cold-blooded revenge.
Jude Callahan isn’t just a hockey god—he’s a devil no one dares to cross.
My existence disrupts his stardom, prestige, and possible serial killer career choice.
And he’s set out to make me pay for that moment of silence.
No matter how much I run or hide, he finds me, watching from the shadows.
Like a predator.
I thought he’d stop at the stalking.
Or even better, he’d kill me and finally end my misery.
But Jude has other plans.
He says I can’t die. I have to pay for my sins.
And just like that, he drags me into his depraved world, kicking and screaming.
This book can be read on its own but for better understanding of the world, it's recommended to read Beautiful Venom first
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PLAYLIST
Chokehold – Sleep Token
Granite – Sleep Token
Panoramic View – AWOLNATION
Right Here – Chase Atlantic
Cry Baby – The Neighbourhood
Rain – Sleep Token
Bad Omens – 5 Seconds of Summer
Keeping You Around – Nothing But Thieves
It's Not Living (If It's Not With You) – The 1975
Tongue Tied – Grouplove
FUNERAL – Neoni
My Oh My – Camila Cabello & DaBaby
Landmines – BELLSAINT
Can’t Pretend – Tom Odell
I don’t wanna lose again – Munn
Poison or Patience – Friday Pilots Club & OSTON
Is it Love – Loreen
You can find the complete playlist on Spotify.
1
VIOLET
Someone’s watching me.
Constantly.
Overtly.
The attention prickles the back of my neck like a thin, tiny needle delving deep beneath my skin.
In the beginning, I thought it was one of the bar’s patrons who had a tendency to make me feel uncomfortable with their lingering gazes and ‘accidental’ touches.
Or maybe it was one of the desolate souls from our sketchy neighborhood who looked at me as if I were a piece of meat.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been that.
A piece of meat.
An object.
A toy.
One that bounces and ping-pongs, no matter how hard it’s kicked.
So this time shouldn’t feel any different. Once again, I’m just another something to someone.
A fixation.
A twisted fascination.
As long as they don’t come any closer, I’m safe.
I ignore the feel of those disturbing, creepy eyes like I do everything uncomfortable in my life.
Shove it in the closet. Close the door on it. Pretend it doesn’t exist.
I wipe the bar counter after the last patron is escorted out by the manager, who laughs along with his drunken mumbling.
HAVEN is the main sports bar in Stantonville, a small run-down town in the Northeast whose entire personality revolves around an overt obsession with ice hockey.
Tonight, there was a replay of a game where the local college team—the Stanton Wolves—crushed it, according to all the happy faces I served.
If it had been a live game, I would’ve been nervous. Considering the men we get here, I don’t know which is worse—when the Wolves win or when they lose.
In both cases, there are drunks who slur, shout, and don’t keep their hands to themselves, but I guess maybe it’s better when they win. Otherwise, we have to deal with ugly violence.
Hockey—and sports in general—doesn’t really appeal to me. I was always bad at physical activities and was the class bookworm from a young age. However, since I go to Stanton River College, or SRC, where the Wolves are worshiped like gods, I have to keep up the pretense to care so I don’t stand out in a bad light.
While others might be fine with saying they truly don’t care for hockey and can take the malicious commentary that will most definitely follow, I’d rather remain in my own bubble and avoid confrontation.
The smell of alcohol saturates my senses, and I try to block it out as I wipe faster, my lower back aching, my arms screaming, and my head swimming in a fuzzy mess. I’m so sleep-deprived and tired, I can barely keep my eyes open.
Laura slides up to my side and helps put the glasses on the tray, her face worn out, her movements lethargic, and her gaze lost. She’s in her thirties and had to take a second job to afford to raise her adorable daughter, Karly.
I have extreme respect for Laura for being able to juggle being a single mom and working multiple jobs. I can barely survive work, volunteering, and college.
And even though it’s mid-July and vacation season is in full swing, I’m taking summer classes to improve my GPA.
As Laura starts to carry the tray of glasses, I pull it from her hands and smile. “You can go home. I’ll finish up.”
“Really?” Her expression lights up, but she bites her lower lip. “You always do this. I feel bad taking advantage of your kindness.”
“You’re good. I know you miss little Karly and you’re worried since she hasn’t been feeling well.”
“Ahh, you’re honestly the best, Violet.” She side-hugs me, her face still tired, but a soft smile lights it up.
And that makes me feel better. The tension in my shoulders eases a little, and I take on her tasks with renewed energy.
I like lessening the burden on others, especially if it’s someone like Laura who needs to work twice as hard to put food on the table for her little girl.
Maybe that’s because I was also brought up by a single mom.
“Oh.” Laura turns on her heel, then comes closer, casting a discreet glance at the security guys and the bartender, who are talking to the manager. “Did you see the huge motorcycle parked across the street when you came in?”
All the ease vanishes, and my body tenses up in that frozen response I have for everything. “There’s…a motorcycle?”
“Yeah. It looked expensive. Kinda hot. Here, I took a picture.”
She fishes her phone out of her back pocket and scrolls through her gallery.