The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, retold as the darkest of dark romances.
Sweeney
Love and redemptionare for the weak. What lives in me now is hunger—cold and relentless.
London is a bloated corpse, crammed full of worthless scum who burrow below the surface like maggots.
Ten years of exile left me a hollow shell. Now I’m back with a new name, ready to tear apart every soul who wronged me.
But when I set foot inside a place from my past, there she is.
Nellie Lovett. I barely remember her, but she remembers me. God, does she remember.
There’s devotion but also true madness in her eyes. She’s twisted herself around my memory like a snake, but to me, she’s useful. Nothing more.
But make no mistake; I don’t need her. I don’t need anyone.
If Nellie wants to worship the broken pieces of who I was, let her. I’ll take what I want until there’s nothing left of her to ruin.
