Monster Of Ruin: A Dark Serial Killer Romance (The Dark Angels Book 4)
Monster Of Ruin: Chapter 1

The moonlight pours into my bedroom as I gaze out the window studying the night sky. I’ve looked out this window many times before. Wishing on the stars to take me away from this mortal nightmare. However tonight, there are no stars to wish upon, which is probably for the best. It’s not as though they ever come true. I live this nightmare day-in and day-out. It’s my own cross to bear. Or so I tell myself.

I focus on the bright moon, wondering who else is looking up at it at this very moment. Could it be someone brokenhearted or someone who just fell in love? Could it be the first time a baby notices the moon or the last time someone sees it? Is it possible that at this very moment, the man I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with is also gazing up at it?

I groan and turn on my back, focusing on the ceiling.

People say money can’t buy you love and that’s true. It’s one thing I can attest to. My father is wealthy and that’s downplaying it. He’s loaded. He’s got more money than I’ll probably ever see, but he’s a coldhearted bastard. The only thing he cares about is money and if I’m being honest, I don’t think the majority of it comes from his job as a judge.

He’s heartless, reckless, and I’m fairly certain he’s as corrupt as they come. Sure, he makes good money as a judge, but not the kind of money that could afford the lavish lifestyle he lives and provides for me.

That’s right, even at the age of twenty-two I still live under his rule.

Why?

I guess I’m just as heartless as him because I spend that dirty money like I’ve earned it.

I’ve never worked. Never had to pay for a car. I’ve never known the feeling of wanting something because if I want it, I get it. Hell, my walk-in closet is overflowing with clothes that I’ll never wear and it’s all thanks to my dishonorable father.

This life is one that so many wish for. So many stare out the window and whisper their hopes to a star, optimistic it can happen.

Yet, I wish for something else.

I wish the threats my father receives never come to fruition.

Because most every threat includes doing harm to me and honestly, I don’t think he’d do shit about it.

While he has provided a life for me that most will never know, it’s not because he loves me or even cares for me. He does it because after my mother was killed my grandmother wanted to raise me. He didn’t want me, but he didn’t want to lose either.

He had to keep up the image of the perfect father.

Doting father.

It’s always about what everyone else thinks of him.

The honorable judge who loves his only daughter.

Pfft. That’s the biggest pile of dog shit if I’ve ever seen it.

So, at the age of seven, I became a pawn in his game. He used me to gain success. He used me to get women. He used me to project the image of a bighearted family man.

It was all a façade, and he was damn good at keeping it up.

He never helped with my homework or went to any kind of school play. He didn’t even go to my high school graduation.

I’ve never eaten a meal with him or sat on the couch watching tv with him. He never tucked me in or read me a bedtime story.

When my presence was needed, the nanny he hired would come for me. It was always a different one, probably because after he fucked them, he’d fire them. So, whatever nanny was around would help me get dressed, explain where I was going, and would remind me that I was only to stand close to my father and smile for the cameras.

Never ask questions.

When I was young, I would get so full of hope that this time would be different. That this time he would look at me or talk to me. That this time he wouldn’t send me away after five minutes of smiling by his side. That this time I’d be rewarded with his time instead of a new toy. But it never happened.

As I got older, I accepted the fate handed to me. I swore when I was old enough, I’d leave and never look back.

That was until I received a threatening call from a man saying if my father didn’t do exactly as he wanted, he would take me and I’d never see my father again.

After that, it became a regular thing. Calls, letters, and packages all with promises to kill me to get back at my father.

I’ve cried myself to sleep more times than I can count. I used to be scared to even walk out the front door, but he didn’t care. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

He never cared.

He told me that all these men were in jail and that as long as I lived in his house, I’d be safe.

It was the only thing he’d ever said to me about it and it was only mentioned because my nanny at the time told him I was having nightmares.

Nothing has ever happened and I’m not the same nervous little girl I once was. Sure, I pay closer attention than most, but if I had to guess I’d say most do when their father has his hands in the mix of evil.

But like I said, am I any better?

“Clara, are you sure I can borrow these dresses?” Adele, my best friend asks.

I finish applying my lipstick and turn around. “You can have them, I’ll never wear ‘em.”

She shakes her head glancing from the pile of dresses on my bed. Blues. Purples. Lace. Denim. All dresses I’ve bought with my father’s money, but never worn. “I wish I had money like you.”

“It’s my father’s money,” I correct her.

She laughs as she sits on my bed. “Sure, he earns it, but you benefit from it.”

I do benefit from it, but she’s wrong about him earning it.

Adele and I have been friends since high school. She’s actually my only friend. When she came to Black Falls, she didn’t know my father was the judge. She didn’t know the damage he caused families that didn’t deserve it. She didn’t know that I was the girl that no one would talk to because they thought I’d run to my daddy.

She sat with me at lunch and ignored all the whispers.

I’ve never told her what I suspect my father does and she’s never asked. She’s just been my friend and the only real thing I’ve ever had in my life.

“Speaking of your father, he’s still not around?” she asks as she rifles through the dresses.

“Nope, haven’t seen him and haven’t looked,” I reply.

Justin Hart comes and goes as he pleases. I’m never privy to any of it. Is he on vacation with someone my age? Is he dealing with a case? Is he traveling the world? Who the fuck knows. He’ll be back eventually, he always is.

I actually like it better when he’s gone.

I’m sure he does too.

“Well, how about we go get drunk tonight?” she suggests, waggling her eyebrows at me.

I smile at her through the mirror. “That’s the best invitation I’ve had in a long time.”

“Better than the invitation you got from that sex on a stick the other night?” she asks with a wide grin.

“He lasted about three minutes and I had to come home and finish myself off. So, yeah this is definitely better.”

Her dark eyes lock with my bright blues as she tries to hold back a laugh. “Damn, you have the worst luck.”

That’s the truth.

I have no luck with men.

Is it too much to ask for a little excitement? For someone to make my heart race and my body burn. To have my thoughts consumed by them and their thoughts consumed by only me.

I would love to know what it feels like to be wanted.

To be cherished.

It’s something I’ve never known, and I crave it. To feel the passion, the longing, the hunger.

I want someone who makes me scream in bed but can also wrap his arms around me and make me feel safe.

I’m not sure anyone like that exists, but it doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop looking.

Maybe if I’m lucky—he’ll be the one searching for me.

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