The Devil's Wrath (The Brotherhood #3)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

I am wrath incarnate, a seething inferno of rage given flesh and purpose.

Hate flows through my veins, consuming my every thought. It is my essence, my truth, my very reason for being.

I stalk the shadows, an avenging specter haunting the guilty and corrupt. My enemies cower in fear at my approach, knowing deep in their wretched souls that the hour of reckoning is at hand. Their pleas for mercy fall on deaf ears—I have none to give.

My heart is a black void, where compassion and forgiveness died long ago.

I am a dealer of death, an artist painting in shades of agony. My enemies whisper my name in fear.

Ghost.

I blend into the inky darkness, moving like a wraith, silent and unseen until it’s too late.

The symphony of their screams is music to my ears.

I cannot be reasoned with, cannot be stopped. I am as relentless and inescapable as the grave.

For I am wrath, and my anger is eternal. Vengeance is my creed, and retribution is my only master.

Tremble, world, for fire and pain are coming. And I shall be its herald.