I grew up knowing it would happen one day. Believing that I would fall into my father's footsteps and become a monster of my own making. So I fought it. I lived. I loved. I teased. And then one day . . . I destroyed. And realized I loved the pain. Obsessed over the feeling. So I cut again and again and again.
She saw my rage, my madness, and tried to stop me from destroying myself, and I hated her for it, pushing her away past the point of no return.
Izzy Abandonato was supposed to be mine. But there are some things people can never come back from. I hurt her, she hurt me, and now I'm living a lie. Telling the ones I love that I'm on one side when for years I've been forced to play both. I'm no angel. I've fallen. And I may single-handedly bring down the Cosa Nostra—by default.
I, Maksim Sinacore, will have my vengeance. I will win her back. Even if it means I have to kill everyone in my path.
The pain masks the betrayal. I never realized that one day—I'd be the very rat that I hated. That I was sent to kill. But once you're deep in a lie—you'll do anything to hide the truth.
She fell for the bad one. She fell for the sinner. So why does that make me smile?
Contains mature themes.
