How prophetic had been those words he’d written. How apt. How irritatingly, fittingly, fucking appropriate. She gritted her teeth in anger and pain.
No. She would not give in to these men. She would not let them have the Grimoire.
Life and death.
Win or lose.
There was no turning back now, even if she wanted to.
She looked at the guns.
Assassin
Breeding Ground
Captives
Compulsion
Deadhead
Death Day
Dying Words
Erebus
Exit Wounds
Hell to Pay
Hybrid
Knife Edge
Lucy’s Child
Necessary Evil
Nemesis
Purity
Relics
Renegades
Shadows
Slugs
Spawn
Stolen Angels
Twisted Souls
Victims
Warhol’s Prophecy
White Ghost
Heathen
SHAUN HUTSON
Hachette Digital
This book is dedicated to my wife,
Belinda, without whom there would be nothing.
‘Truth is rarely pure, and never simple’