Wrath of an Exile (The River Styx Heathens #1)

by Monty Jay

To the friends whose names are still spray-painted beside mine on that rusted water tower. The wild nights in our Nowhereville town gave me everything I needed to write the love shared between these Heathens. To the Styx. (Oh, and just so we’re clear, that first sentence isn’t an admission of guilt—it’s only metaphor…)

Always a serpent curled in the grass, waiting to strike, just like his piece-of-shit dad.

A flame, a blaze, an inferno. I wanted people to be afraid of touching me.

You see, I’ve got this thing. This appetite for boys’ hearts. It’s impossible to survive my brand of chaos. I like bad decisions. Fast cars. And sex. Anything that makes me numb.

Andromeda Van Doren is the epitome of beauty, and I’ve never known her to be bad at anything. Music, art, sports, academics, the list could go on and on for hours.

“Watch your fucking mouth when you’re speaking to my wife.” Rook’s voice cuts through the air like a serrated blade, scorched and swift. Shoulders tensed, he wears a look I can only describe as pure evil in his features.