Vengeance of The Fallen: A Dark Reverse Harem Romance (Twisted Legends Collection Book 1) Read online

  VENGEANCE OF THE FALLEN

  THE TWISTED LEGENDS COLLECTION

  DANI RENÉ

  CONTENTS

  Newsletter Sign Up

  Author’s Note

  Welcome…

  The Twisted Legends Collection

  Playlist

  Preface

  Prologue

  1. Lucille

  2. Crow

  3. Lucille

  4. Lucille

  5. Falcon

  6. Hawk

  7. Lucille

  8. Crow

  9. Lucille

  10. Falcon

  11. Crow

  12. Hawk

  13. Lucille

  14. Crow

  15. Lucille

  16. Falcon

  17. Lucille

  18. Lucille

  19. Crow

  20. Crow

  21. Lucille

  22. Lucille

  23. Hawk

  24. Falcon

  25. Lucille

  26. Hawk

  27. Crow

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Dani René

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2022 by Dani René

  Edited by Amy Briggs

  Proofread by Caroline Cogswell

  Cover Design & Formatting by Raven Designs

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  THINK TWICE BEFORE YOU PIRATE! Support an author by buying a book.

  NEWSLETTER SIGN UP

  This dark, twisted story awaits you, but before you meet The Fallen, sign up for my newsletter so you don’t miss out on sales, new releases, recommendations, and much more!

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Dear Reader,

  I’m so excited to have you reading my first ever reverse harem romance. It’s been one hell of a journey.

  Please note, there are dark elements in this story, and there may be triggers which could upset sensitive readers. Please be wary when diving in. If you’d like a full list of triggers, please click this link: https://danirene.com/book/vengeance-of-the-fallen

  Mad love,

  Dani, xo

  WELCOME…

  Ten authors invite you to join us in the Twisted Legends Collection.

  These stories are a dark, twisted reimagining of infamous legends well-known throughout the world. Some are retellings, others are nods to those stories that cause a chill to run down your spine.

  Each book may be a standalone, but they’re all connected by the lure of a legend.

  We invite you to venture into the unknown, and delve into the darkness with us, one book at a time.

  THE TWISTED LEGENDS COLLECTION

  Vengeance of The Fallen - Dani René

  Truth or Kill - A.C. Kramer

  Departed Whispers - J Rose

  The Labyrinth of Savage Shadows - Murphy Wallace

  Hell Gate - Veronica Eden

  Blood & Vows - Amanda Richardson

  Under the Cover of Darkness - Emma Luna

  Reckless Covenant - Lilith Roman

  Bane & Bound - Crimson Syn

  The Ripper - Alexandra Silva

  DEDICATION

  To my girls who hate to choose.

  PLAYLIST

  Animals - Maroon 5

  The Devil Within - Digital Daggers

  Black Sun - Blue Oyster Cult

  River - Bishop Briggs

  Stalker - J See, Azide, Lox Chatterbox, Black Tash

  Drive You Insane - Daniel Di Angelo

  See You Bleed - Ramsey

  Desire - Violet Orlandi

  Miss You - CORPSE

  White Tee - CORPSE

  Flesh - Simon Curtis

  Saints - Echos

  Ritual - AWAY, Echos

  Nothing At All - Rob Dougan

  Find the full playlist HERE

  PREFACE

  CROW

  Nobody starts their life out as a killer.

  No child wakes up one morning and announces he’s going to become a hitman.

  But that’s where life has brought me. It’s in the eyes of my brothers in arms I find my humanity. If you can even call it that.

  We’ve all three witnessed atrocities, and when we watched these violent acts unfolding, it wasn’t on a television screen, it was real life. Perhaps it’s why my mind broke. I’m certain it’s why Falcon and Hawk, my brothers by all standards that matter, hunger for the same revenge that I need.

  We may not be blood, but we’re family all the same.

  They are the only people I trust with my life. Because they know how precious it is. Being alive, it’s a gift, one that can be taken at any moment. It has brought us to the work we do. We know how to steal those last moments of someone’s light and snuff it out as if they’d never existed.

  Most people who know us, fear us—and they should.

  We can empty your bank account, find every dark, sordid secret you’ve ever had hidden away, and we’ll do it so we can get our payday. When your life is gone, there is no getting it back. Most times, we don’t have to kill those we’re hired to because once we’re done they want to die anyway.

  It makes our lives much easier.

  Wealthy people hire us to do their dirty work, and I don’t mind. I like to get my hands filthy. There’s honesty in what I do. With a swipe of my blade, with the pull of a trigger, I can take out anyone who stands in my way.

  There is only one person who I haven’t killed yet, and it’s not for the lack of trying. He’s locked up tight in prison. I know he’ll get out; he has connections. One day, and I know the day will come, I’ll look him in the eye and watch the life drain from his face.

  I want to bathe in his blood. It will be sweet vengeance.

  In the darkness of the living room, I move to the balcony with a cigarette pressed between my lips. Outside, I flick the lighter and take a long, deep inhale. It’s as if I can see the smoke curling around my nerves, collecting in my lungs, and when I breathe it out, it billows like a cloud.

  The apartment is draped in darkness, and I blend into my surroundings, dressed all in black as I stand guard. My watchful gaze is trained on the building across from me. I can see her moving around her flat. She’s oblivious to me. But she’ll soon learn danger lurks in the shadows.

  Each night I come to the apartment we bought in the city only to watch her. This is our ticket to the one thing we’ve been wanting for years. At first, Falcon was concerned about my plan, but when I told him she’s the spawn of the most evil man we’d ever come across, he agreed.

  I kept her a secret for months before I told my brothers. Something I have never done before. They know everything there is to know about me. I can’t explain it, but there is something about her I want to keep to myself. A piece of her which calls to me.

  A pretty little blonde with angel eyes and pouty lips. Her body is sinful. Perhaps it’s the reason wh y I didn’t tell my brothers. Because I know the moment Falcon sees her, he’ll want to enjoy every curve.

  My blood heats as she moves to the second bedroom of her apartment where she’ll log into her computer, touch herself, and come. Her orgasm will be real, and she’ll slowly come down from her high. But deep down the guilt will eat away at her like it does every time she does it. I watch the way she rushes from the room afterward. It happens at least twice a week. She’ll run to the main bedroom, cover herself in a robe, and curl up on a chair by the window as tears streak her cheeks.

  Our Goldilocks is broken in ways I didn’t fathom. I had no idea what was going on the first few times it happened. It doesn’t stop my need to make her pay. Even if she begs for her life, she owes me one back. And I intend on taking.

  I know who she really is.

  I know what she did.

  PROLOGUE

  LUCILLE

  Five Years Ago

  “Guilty.” Guilty. Guilty.

  The word rings in my ears, over and over again. A deafening thud of a gavel hitting the wooden surface of the judge’s desk makes me jump in surprise. Everything spins as if I’m on a carnival ride and it’s going too fast. He turns to look at me; the man who’s being convicted of murder. The sneer curling his lips has ice crawling up my spine, one icicle at a time. The venom dancing in his eyes threatens to poison me right where I sit.

  I did this.

  My world tilts on its axis when he lifts his finger to his nose and taps it three times. It used to be our thing, but I no longer want any connection to the stranger before me. My knees wobble as I try to push to my feet. I can feel the bile rising from my stomach, the burn traveling hot and fast up my throat.

  I race from the courtroom as the tears stream from my eyes. Thankfully, I make it into a stall in the ladies’ restroom before I puke up my breakfast. I told my mother I didn’t want anything to eat, and yet, she made me have something.

  My body continues convulsing as I cry. It’s not sadness overtaking me, it’s the sense of foreboding. He will come for me. I don’t doubt he will find a way out and when he does, I’ll be his next victim. There was no longer a question about it. It’s a given. That’s how my life will end.

  “Lucy?” My mother’s voice echoes outside the stalls. "Where are you?”

  “I’m here,” I croak, my throat burns from the acid I expelled.

  She doesn’t say anything for a long while. We didn’t expect this to happen. I never wanted my family to be broken up by heartbreak or disaster, but here we are. The confusion running through me when my father was arrested is still present.

  I haven’t come to terms with it.

  I want to; but admitting your father is a killer isn’t the kind of painful truth any child should have to come to terms with—even if he claimed he’d lost his mind; he wasn’t thinking straight. I can’t forgive him for what he did.

  “Come, Lucy girl,” Mother calls to me. “We should go.” She’s right. But my strength is gone. My arms shake as I attempt to push myself to my feet. By the time I open the door to the stall, my mother looks at me with tears shining in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for.” It’s the same thing she tells me every day. Well, since that fateful day. But I don’t believe her. I feel as guilty as he is. My gut churns as I rinse my mouth and splash some cool water on my face.

  It’s the silence hanging over us as we make our way home which reminds me of what we lost. The happy memories are all gone, and all we have left in their wake are images of horror.

  When we reach the house where my father lived, it feels as if I’m a stranger. Fear laced with darkness hangs in every room, even my bedroom. The memories of what happened in here assault me. I should have run. Perhaps one day I’ll have the courage to walk away from my mother and leave her, but now, after he’s gone, I can’t abandon her.

  She knew about what was going on. She knew my father was a criminal, and she didn’t do anything. As much as I want to hate her, I can’t. Fear makes people do things they normally wouldn’t. Knowing your husband is working for criminals, for a dangerous organization which can kill you with a flick of their fingers, it forces you to stay silent.

  I thought long and hard about my testimony. They asked me questions I’d rather not answer, but I was under oath.

  Did your father ever hurt you?

  Did he ever tell you to do anything you didn’t want to?

  Did you witness him ever touch or force any of the victims?

  All those words, those fucking questions, brought back those dark nights when I thought I would sleep and I couldn’t. When you live with someone who’s an expert at pretending, you can’t fool them.

  As I walk into my bedroom, it’s as if he’s still here, waiting for me. I can practically envision him on my bed, holding my teddy bear while asking me to strip. There is one memory I buried so deep I didn’t want to think about it until now.

  The mattress has a dent where he used to lay. The chair which overlooks my bed still has an imprint of where he would sit while reading me stories. Most children want their folks to tell them bedtime tales of princesses and heroes, and knights in shining armor.

  I didn’t.

  It was the worst time of my life.

  Each night he would come into my bedroom and relay the story about the princess who needed so much more than anyone else could give her.

  He would tell me how she begged the dragon to take her, to steal her away and keep her locked in a tower where they would play games all day. I was much younger and trying to understand why he was telling me these things, and it was only on my fifteenth birthday I realized the truth.

  There was so much more to the story than meets the eye. You wouldn’t know it until it was explained in fine detail. As the princess, I wanted more. The attention he gave me made me happy, but it wasn’t the right kind. I didn’t realize until the night he made sure I knew what a monster he was.

  Then it was too late to refuse it. He said he would hurt me worse than him stealing my purity, if I told him no. I tried to fight back, which was when he told me I would regret it because I would be labeled as the problem. At the time, I believed him. I didn’t want people to think of me as a liar, so I allowed it to happen.

  Even when I wanted to cry.

  Even when I begged him to stop.

  He didn’t. There was no longer a right or wrong in his eyes. Everything he did was for the greater good. He told me it would all make sense when I was older. He was convinced what he was doing was right. Later I learned about his connection to the vile criminals he worked for, and a light shone on the dark memories which plagued me.

  The night before I learned of his true intentions, he said he would make sure nobody would get the one part of me men craved. I knew what he meant because I’d overheard girls at school talking.

  I was never allowed out with boys.

  My father told me I was special. For a long time, I believed him.

  But I wasn’t.

  All he saw when he looked at me was a chess piece. He moved me around, toyed with me, and used me up until there were no more moves left. I was promised. My life would become nothing more than a bargaining chip which my father used to ensure his safety.

  He didn’t care I would be sent off with a man twice or three times my age.

  He laughed at the thought. Because he would have taken a girl my age and enjoyed it. The men he worked with didn’t care about much, especially how young the women, or girls, were when they bought and sold them.

  A bartering deal between dangerous devils.

  While girls were the currency.

  I flop on the bed as I recall every vile memory. It’s like a movie reel playing in my mind. It repeats, over and over again. Images flash across my eyelids, like a large screen, bright and telling. It spews a story filled with lies.

  Tears and pleas.

  Grunts and moans.

  Even as pa in took hold, the princess begged to stop feeling, to leave this earth. She wanted nothing more than to escape, but the dragon held her hostage. She could run, perhaps find solace with three bears who would love her endlessly. Or she could find a prince with a red rose dying slowly as he lost his own life.

  But none of those were real.

  Those girls were nothing more than fabrications in the minds of authors. Real life is nothing like those books. I used to flick the pages excitedly. I knew soon after falling in love with books, my story wouldn’t end with a happily ever after.

  I would be devoured by the monster.

  I would be captured by the villain.

  Now, as exhaustion takes a hold of me, I know my dragon has been slayed, but he’ll be back to find me.

  It doesn’t matter how long it takes.

  CHAPTER ONE

  LUCILLE

  Present Day

  Frustration burns through me as I pick up my cell phone and log into my social media accounts. Photos of the parties happening on summer break annoy me. My friends are out having fun while my mother forces me to work this part time job.