Just as all its wonderful standalone predecessors in the Seven Deadly series, Fury is a story of hope, forgiveness, atonement and a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love—pure, selfless, compassionate—a love that erases all hurts and fills all voids…and I adored it!! So, I am honoured to be sharing with you today one of my favourite excerpts from this beloved story… ♥
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.
“I’m not afraid of death, Ethan.”
“Is death a possibility?”
“It is. I’m prepared for it. Plus, I’m carrying hope with me, so I’m cool.”
I turned toward her, my left ear sinking into the lake. “Finley, you’re not even the slightest bit afraid?”
She looked at me, the lake water rippling from her movement. “Ethan, you can choose to hope or you can choose to fear. Fear is a crippling disease. It takes over and paralyzes. Hope bolsters, motivates. People who fear, die. People who hope, live. Even in death they live.”
I let her words sink into me while we paddled closer to shore to prevent ourselves from drifting too far. We did this when the music started to feel too distant. We floated in silence, listening to her dynamite playlist and memorizing the stars and moon.
“Finley?” I asked a half hour later.
“You said at the bar that we were never friends in high school.”
I turned toward her again, our bodies rippling with the movement. “Do you really believe that?”
She sighed toward the stars. “Yeah, I do.”
“That’s bullshit,” I said matter-of-factly.
She didn’t respond, but I could practically feel her eyes roll.
“It’s bullshit,” I explained, “because there’s still merit in small conversations. Yeah, we might not have waxed philosophic, but we most definitely talked real life. I think you forgot that. To be honest, those seemingly nothing talks to you meant so much to me.” She furrowed her brow. “I needed to talk to someone so badly at that time about regular things, regular life. I was overwhelmed with responsibility then and felt like I was drowning. I found solace in our synoptic talks, Finley. I found worth in the culmination of those hundreds of hours we spent in one another’s company. I didn’t do that with anyone else.” I paused. “You were a soft place to fall,” I whispered.
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(standalone stories with interconnected characters)
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