God of Malice (Legacy of Gods #1) by Rina Kent

“Oh my God!” Ava snaps her fingers. “I knew your last name sounded familiar. Your brother is Jeremy Volkov, isn’t he?”

“The Jeremy Volkov?” I repeat, incredulous.

I’m a certified hermit, but even I heard the name as soon as I stepped foot on Brighton Island. Jeremy Volkov is older than us, my brothers’ age, and is currently finishing his master’s degree.

The reason his name is so infamous in both our campuses is due to the fact that he’s a god that should not be crossed.

It’s said that he killed someone who pissed him off—strapped rocks to his body and threw him to the bottom of the ocean. Once, a student tripped against his car and hobbled away with a broken leg.

Another time, someone accidentally spilled water on him, then went ahead and punched himself to escape his wrath.

Of course, it’s all rumors, but they’re savage rumors. The type of rumors that clearly tell us peasants to stay the hell away from him.

Because, of course, Jeremy is the leader of the Heathens. Rumor has it that the initiation process into the club starts by spilling blood.

Rumor also has it that the other Heathens are as crazy as he is. Some are even worse.

I didn’t know their names before, but something tells me Killian’s name belongs there.

Kill.

That’s what Annika—who’s currently fidgeting from one foot to the other—called him. He’s a ‘kill’ type of person.

Grandpa Henry, Mum’s father, told me that every person has a share of their name.

Killian is the entirety of his name.

Annika lowers her head. “What are the chances of going back to before you learned that piece of information about my brother?”

“Slim to none,” Ava says. “Can’t believe you’re siblings.”

“I mean, he’s not as bad as the rumors say. He’s the best brother alive and cares about me.”

“He ruins people’s lives for fun,” Ava says matter-of-factly.

“We can’t choose our siblings?” Annika tries with an awkward smile.

“Can totally relate.” Ava sighs. “Still. This is big news. I’m surprised he let his sister study at REU. I thought he hated us.”

“He probably does since he said, and I quote, ‘REU is filled with spineless, spoiled brats who only know how to spend their trust funds and don’t have the slightest clue about how to grow them.’ And he didn’t get a say in it since I got Papa’s approval after a lot of begging and promising to be good. But none of those methods worked, duh. The only thing that did was having Mom convince him. Lucky for me, he can’t say no to her.” She grins, then stares between us sheepishly. “You don’t hate me?”

“Why would we?” I inch closer to her. “You’re welcome aboard.”

“Yeah,” Ava echoes. “Your brother is a scary twat, but you’re a total doll.”

She blushes, seeming over the moon with the compliment. “Aww, thanks.”

Ava and Annika gush over each other for a bit before Annika studies me as if searching for a hanging limb. “I know we just met, but I feel the need to warn you about Kill. If you think my brother is bad, Killian might be worse. He’s always been popular, worshiped and fawned upon as if he was God on earth, but there’s something off about him, you know. Like his whole social life is a façade for what’s truly lurking inside. His smile never reaches his eyes, and all his relationships have been flings and hookups. In fact, I don’t think he’s ever had a relationship. Even his own brother doesn’t care for him that much. It’s like he’s living, but not alive…as if he’s…”

“A monster,” I finish for her.

“I was going to say a psychopath. Anyhow, he’s bad news and I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Too late.

He’s already took a part of me that I’ll never be able to get back.

“Is he part of your brother’s secret club?” Ava asks, then leans over to whisper, “Heathens?”

Annika gives a small laugh. “Ha…ha… I’m not supposed to talk about that or Jer will kill me. But yeah, he is, whatever. Kill is probably the mastermind behind it in the first place.”

“What do they do there?” Ava implores, closing in on her like a teacher interrogating a quiet student.

“Don’t know, don’t care. I keep out of their business and that allows me to fly under their radar. I mean, I have a clue about what’s going on, because the guards like me, but I pretend I’m clueless.”

I rub my palm on my shorts, contemplating her words. Does that mean if I remain still, I’ll also fly under their radar?

My phone beeps and I startle before slowly fishing it out.

Unknown Number: Careful, Glyndon. You might accidentally become the next target.





6





KILLIAN





I learned early on that I don’t fit in the normalized, stagnant, preached society.

I was born to reign over it.

No questions asked.

Control isn’t only a need or a fleeting desire. It’s a necessity that’s as pressing as breathing air.

Deep inside me lurks a serial killer with fucked-up fetishes and constant demands to satiate its desires. Sometimes, the urge is dull enough to ignore, but other times, it gets to be so much that red becomes the only color I see.