Prologue

FURY.

Red hot.

Scalpel sharp.

Motherfucking fury.

I was its prisoner, master, and king.

It bowed to me, crippled me, and twined around my veins as I sank deeper into the sea.

Fury.

An emotion as familiar to me as the warm ocean sucking me down. A feeling I’d always tried to harness, expel, and ignore. I’d failed on multiple occasions. I’d kneeled beneath its sinister sufferings and existed with silent loathing within my heart, but now...

Fuck.

Now...I no longer turned away from the shooting shards of hate. I welcomed the acidic contempt. I turned my back on humanity and permitted fury to strip me of everything I’d been. To delete my failures. To erase my past. To leave me empty apart from one deeply dangerous thing.

Eleanor...

I jerked beneath the sea.

He took her.

Fury!

I welcomed the poison.

The heinous howl for blood.

Eleanor!

My fury grew again.

My bones snapped with it.

My heart smoked with it.

My entire world was soaked in rage-dripping FURY!

It mutated the water around me.

It sent shockwaves through the sea, no longer living within me but surrounding me, choking me.

Eleanor...

I opened my mouth and screamed.

Bubbles shot from my lips.

Oxygen poured from bruised lungs.

And another kind of darkness encroached.

A darkness that promised to strangle me if I didn’t find her, free her, kill him.

That was my only purpose now.

Kill.

Kill my brother.

Kill Drake.

Drake.

Motherfucking Drake.

He has her.

He took her.

He’ll DIE.

The surface twinkled above, showing me the way to my vengeance.

My fists curled underwater.

My wounded eyes blinked in the salt.

And my fury morphed from emotion to element.

Blazing fire and howling gales—a tsunami beneath me, churning up the sea floor. I was mayhem. I was unchained.

I’m free.

Fury was no longer just a feeling but an offshoot of every disaster I wielded.

Magic.

Black magic.

Dark magic.

A magic that would extract its payment in souls.

Drake’s soul.

FURY.

His blood would flow.

His bones would snap.

His life squeezed to nothingness in my fist.

The man I’d been sank to the bottom of the ocean—useless to me now, a hindrance, a weakling who’d been afraid of his power.

A god who hadn’t been able to protect his goddess.

I was no longer divine.

I was no longer human.

I was a vampire thirsting for blood.

I was hell.

I was death.

I. Am. Fury.

Chapter One

SULLY.

His fall into the ocean was on repeat inside my head.

Tripping out the door.

Plummeting down, down, down.

My heart squeezed each time his splash replayed.

A splash and then...nothing.

My thoughts weren’t in my body, locked on Drake’s lap, skimming over the sea, but back there. Back where Sully had fallen. Where he’d disappeared. Where we’d been separated against our will.

Sully...please.

Almost an hour had passed.

The longest, nightmarish hour since I’d last seen him.

Since I knew he was alive...

“Descending,” the pilot yelled over the din. “Found it.”

The pilot’s voice brought me back; Drake’s legs tensing beneath mine ripped me from my wonderings.

I glanced out the window, shuddering as Drake’s hold on me tightened.

Monyet.

The island with a large laboratory hidden within its paradise, pumping out drugs that went above and beyond aphrodisiacs, creating who knew what else within its walls.

Sully...are you okay?

My mind split down the middle. It now had the ability to focus on my plight while staying firmly on Sully’s in my past.

It was like staring into two mirrors.

A mirror angled behind me—a portal to a man who I begged to rise from the sea. And another angled on my present—revealing unfolding events taking me farther and farther away from him.

“About fucking time,” Drake muttered as the helicopter engines cut off mid-screech, the rotors slowing down the moment we touched land.

I shuddered again, overflowing with disgust as Drake pushed me off his lap and onto the seat beside him.

For fifty minutes or so, the pilots had skimmed over Sully’s empire, peering at each island, trying to figure out which one housed a lab. Unfortunately, it’d become fairly obvious as darkness descended, and lights spangled below.

The smaller islands with no inhabitants were easy to discount, followed by those with smaller populations performing whatever tasks Sully had set for them to do. Monyet was at least twice the size of Serigala, and directly in the centre of a fortified encampment. Ringed with fences and palm trees, it sat in a well-lit facility reeking of scientific dealings.

“We’re on the main helipad within the barbwire perimeter,” the older pilot said. “They’ll have heard us arrive. Better figure out your story, quick.”

“I don’t need a story,” Drake said. “This is family owned, and I’m family. Therefore, it’s mine, and everything inside is mine.”

“Nothing is yours,” I snapped. “You’re a thief.”

He chuckled, his eyes still tight with fatigue from his indulgence with elixir. “Thief? I prefer to be called an opportunist.”

“Bastard suits you more.”

He shrugged. “I don’t mind that one.” He looked out the window, eyeing up the lab he’d come to raid.

Drake had been bold and uncaring that he trespassed. He’d stolen so much from Sully already...and now, his thievery would continue on a different island.

Sully...

I hugged myself as goosebumps decorated me.

Please...please be okay.

“What’s the plan?” the remaining mercenary asked.

I curled around my pain, turning my attention away from the mirror on my present and stared into the one showing that ever-repeating image of Sully being thrown out of the helicopter.

Falling.

Falling.

Splash.

“There’s four of us,” Drake muttered, rubbing his eyes as the exhaustion still consumed him from Euphoria. “They’re just nerds. We’ll knock, ask politely, and leave. They don’t obey; they die. I want out of this stinking country the second we’ve got elixir on board.”

“Fine.” The mercenary nodded.

The pilots jumped from the cockpit, moving toward the door where Sully had tumbled.

Nausea lapped up my throat.

You better be alive, Sully.

The pilots—one young with brown hair, and the other old with grey—glanced at each other before the older one snipped, “You hired us to fly you around, Mr. Sinclair, not to shoot anybody.”

Drake latched his fingers around my wrist, jerking me from the helicopter.

I tripped at the sudden inertia and fell to my knees as he yanked me from the machine. My skin scraped on the roughness of the helipad as he dragged me to the grass a few metres away and left me puddled at his feet.

I hissed at him.

He smirked.