I always knew darkness crept through this city; like a shadow, it never really goes away, always watching, always waiting. People sin and people kill; it's a way of life. I just never expected to be thrown into the middle of a war I had no hope of surviving. Alexander Silver is as brutal as he is beautiful. A devil in disguise. The man destined to end me. I didn't go looking for trouble, and yet it found me, nonetheless. I could either join it or let it crush me.

I used to have big dreams: finish college, make beautiful art, all while taking over my dad’s business. He wanted a legacy, and I wanted to give it to him. But his illness wasn’t part of the plan. Neither was his sudden need to keep me locked up in our mansion, safe and isolated. I want more from life, but could only spend my days waiting. Until one night, I came face-to-face with a street biker from a world far different from mine. What starts as him stalking me, quickly spirals into something deeper, and more deadly.

My father called them messengers. He once told me they walked among us and that somewhere in this dark and godless city, there shined a faint sliver of hope. I had only to look for the signs. Well, I’ve spent my whole life investigating the inexplicable and all I've found are the unsettling vestiges of iniquity—the evidence of another world shrouded by the obscure. Purgatory to some, where depravity hides in shadows, and girls like me are little more than delicious bites of temptation. Others call it Nightshade.

According to the FBI, I was considered a serial murderer after three kills. What do they call me after fifty-two? They call me the Silencer. One final bullet would have been all it took to stop me from taking another soul, and I would have been doing Meridian City a service by pulling that trigger. An angel crying for help stopped me, and that night, I took three lives for her. Then three turned into eight. Then eight turned into twenty. Twenty turned into twenty-one. Twenty-one turned into twenty-three.

It's been months since the day we stood above that empty grave that stunk of burnt flesh and secrets. All of us were dressed to the nines, one of us wearing a wedding dress, a day that was supposed to mark the beginning of a new adventure. It marked the bitter end of our vengeance. We have done things that have marked our souls for eternity. But before we get there, we have to go back. Back to where it all started. The place I could find in my sleep.

Everything changed the night my dad died. The night I met Saint, Galen, Caz, and Theo. Those manipulative a-holes set out to ruin me after our hot night together, but they didn’t realize you can’t destroy something that’s already broken. And it only works if the victim cares. Which I don’t. Because I’ve been in hell for years, and nothing penetrates the steel walls I’ve erected. Until the Sainthood decides I belong to them and cracks appear in my veneer. Their cruel games, harsh words, and rough touch awakens something inside me, and now, I’m in trouble.

I'm addicted to my stalker. He watches me at night, sneaking in through my living room window and making my blood turn to ice. I feel him all around me as chills snake down my spine. Each night he becomes bolder, getting closer and welcoming himself into my bedroom, feeding his addiction.

Every Halloween, Satan's Affair will come to you. We travel the country, offering terrifying haunted houses, thrilling rides, and the tastiest food. And with every passing town, I cleanse this world, one execution at a time. I hide within the walls, casting my judgement for those that reek of evil, singing lullabies to their rotting souls. Once you've been chosen, there's no escaping my henchmen—they cater to my every desire.

To grandmother’s house I go, though I want nothing to do with magic or my former life. Especially not after being kicked out of the Fairy Fine Arts Academy. But when I find a dangerous, heavily scarred wolf shifter in my grandma’s bedroom, the fragile human lifestyle I've built from scratch is suddenly at stake. Magic, chaos, and my past is charging at me like a raging ogre on pixie sticks. My grandma is nowhere to be found, and I’m being hunted.

The average song is three and a half minutes long; those three and a half minutes could lead to a slow blink, a glimpse of the past, or catapult the soul into heart-shattering nostalgia. At the height of my career, I had the life I wanted, the life I’d always envisioned. I’d found my tempo, my rhythm. Then I received a phone call that left me off key. You see, my favorite songs had a way of playing simultaneously. I was in love with one man’s beats and another’s lyrics. But when it came to the soundtrack of a life, how could anyone choose a favorite song?