Welcome to the Release Week Blitz for Fisher Amelie's FURY! FURY is a New Adult Contemporary Romance and the third book in Fisher Amelie’s The Seven Deadly Series!! Grab your copy today and if you haven't had a chance to read the entire series yet, get on it IMMEDIATELY!
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Revenge is an euphoric thing. Trust me on this. Nothing compares to the release you get when you ruin someone’s life. When they’ve stolen important things. Things that didn’t belong to them. Things I revel in making them pay for.
What? Have I offended you? I’m not here to appeal to your delicate senses. I have no intention of placating your wishes or living within your personal belief system nor do I care if you hate me. And you will hate me. Because I’m a brutal, savage, cold-blooded murderer and I’m here for my revenge.
I’m Ethan Moonsong...And this is the story about how I went from the world’s most sacrificing man to the most feared and why I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
The truck door slammed closed behind me as I reached for my hidden bottle, unscrewed the lid, and took a swig. It burned on its way down, alleviating that sick feeling in my stomach, albeit temporarily.
Slowly, ever so slowly, I walked toward the bakery. I kept as close to the storefronts as possible. When I reached Ceres, I stopped and leaned against the brick beside the window, knowing they couldn’t see me. Carefully, I peered into the window and saw them. Their backs faced me as they ordered at the counter.
“My God,” I breathed.
There she was. It was the first time I’d seen either of them since the day in the forest when she chose him over me. It felt so surreal to me. Her hair had grown out a little and she’d gained weight, probably since the transplant went so well. I looked at Spencer. I bet the bastard was her hero. I couldn't help but think I could have just as easily been him. I could have been standing next to her in line at Ceres, waiting for our sweet potato sticky buns, laughing and feeling happy because I was with her.
I thought about what Finley told me earlier that morning. I thought she was wrong. Cricket would have been just as happy with me as she was with Spencer.
I studied them together. She bounced on her heels, talking animatedly, her hair swishing around her shoulders. She used her hands a lot when she spoke. I wondered what she was talking about. I wondered if she thought about me at all, if she gave a shit that she broke my heart, shattered it into a million pieces. She smiled at Spencer and they started laughing. Apparently not.
God, I hated him. I mean really hated the guy. I looked back at my truck and remembered that I kept my hunting knives in the glove compartment in case my mom’s brother Akule, the only one willing to talk to me on her side of the family, wanted to go hunting. He gave them to me for my eleventh birthday. They were beautiful. Two Spartan short swords with leather handles, and I knew what I was doing with them.
Akule is Echo River Indian, as was my mother. She left the tribe when she converted to Catholicism right out of high school, and they didn’t approve but Akule was young when she did and he was close to my mom, so he didn’t care. He would sneak into town and they would watch movies together at her apartment.
He taught me how to hunt with my hands in Echo River style from a young age but when my mom died, he made it a weekly trip to the mountains. We would spend entire weekends up there up until I turned nineteen and Cricket got really sick.
I looked back at Cricket. She brought her hand up to Spencer’s back. He followed suit and tucked his hand into her back pocket, incensing me. Immediately, I walked to my truck and opened the passenger side door. The knives sat in their sheaths in the glove box. I hadn’t touched them in months, and my hands itched to hold them again.
I reached for them but paused a few inches from the handles. My hands shook and my heart pounded.
“What are you doing?” I asked myself.
I shut the glove box and sat on the bench of my truck, my booted foot resting on the concrete below. I ran my hands through my hair and rested against the back of the seat, shocked I’d been even contemplating what I’d been pondering.
“What were you going to do?” I asked myself. “Murder him?”