Title: Raze
Author: Tillie Cole
Age group: Mature new adult
Genre: Dark contemporary romance
Release date: 30th December
2014
BLURB
To take back life, one must first face death...
One man stripped of his freedom, his morals...his life.
Conditioned in captivity to maim, to kill and to slaughter,
prisoner 818 becomes an unremorseful, unrivaled and unstoppable fighter in the
ring. Violence is all he knows. Death and brutality are the masters of his
fate.
After years of incarceration in an underground hell, only one
thought occupies his mind: revenge...bloody, slow and violent revenge.
Revenge on the man who lied.
Revenge on the man who wronged him.
Revenge on the man who condemned him and turned him into this: a
rage-fueled killing machine. A monster void of humanity; a monster filled with
hate.
And no one will stand in the way of getting what he wants.
One woman stripped of her freedom, her morals...her life.
Kisa Volkova is the only daughter of Kirill ‘The Silencer’ Volkov, head of the
infamous ‘Triad’ bosses of New York's
Russian Bratva. Her life is protected. In reality, it’s a virtual prison. Her father’s savage treatment of his rivals and his lucrative and coveted
underground gambling ring—The Dungeon—ensures too many enemies lurk at their
door.
She dreams to be set free.
Kisa has known only cruelty and loss in her short life. As
manager of her father’s
death match enterprise, only grief and pain fill her days. Her mafia boss
father, in her world, rules absolute. And her fiancé, Alik Durov, is no better;
the Dungeon’s five-time champion, a
stone-cold killer, the treasured son of her father’s best friend, and her very own—and much resented—personal
guard. Unrivaled in both strength and social standing, Alik controls every
facet of Kisa’s life, dominates her
every move; keeps her subdued and dead inside...then one night changes
everything.
While working for her church—the only reprieve in her constant
surveillance—Kisa stumbles across a tattooed, scarred, but stunningly beautiful
homeless man on the streets. Something about him stirs feelings deep within
her; familiar yet impossibly forbidden desires. He doesn’t talk. Doesn’t communicate with
anyone. He’s a man beyond saving,
and a man she must quickly forget...for both their sakes.
But when weeks later, out of the blue and to her complete
surprise, he’s announced as the
replacement fighter in The Dungeon, Kisa knows she’s in a whole lot of trouble. He’s built, ripped and lethally unforgiving to his opponents,
leaving fear in his wake and the look of death in his eyes.
Kisa becomes obsessed with him. Yearns for him. Craves his
touch. Needs to possess this mysterious man...this man they call Raze.
Buy Links
Excerpt
His
heart beat like a drum—fast and hard and loud.
His
breath blew strong like a windstorm, his chest contracting with his harsh
pants.
Fear
seeped from his bones, from every cell of his being, his hands shaking like a
leaf and sweat dropped from his hot skin.
"Welcome
to hell, boy."
These
four words greeted Boy as he was brutally propelled into a dank basement by a
hugely built guard. Everywhere was black; the blackest of black. The guards
wore black, the walls of the truck that had brought him here was black, the sky
outside was black and the windowless room they now stood in, black. The
stagnant air was humid and thick, the temperature in the room, scalding. The
stench of slick grease, sweat, and something more putrid burned Boy's nostrils
making him retch and his feet stuck to the sticky, grimy ground.
Hell,
Boy thought, considering the guard’s words. It was a living breathing hell.
Then
the guard pushed him again, this time down a steep, slippery staircase, dull
lights sunken into the walls. The high brick walls were a browning-yellowing
color and ancient fans whined in the background vainly attempting to cool the
too-hot air. Overhead pipes steadily dripped raw sewage on the concrete floor
and rats and other vermin swarmed around his feet.
The
place was a shithole.
Once
again, a heavy hand pushed Boy's back, thrusting him down a narrow hallway.
With every step, Boy could hear his breath echo louder in his ears. With every
step, he could feel his pounding heart slam harder in his chest at an almost
bruising rate. And with every step, he could hear more and more loudly a
raucous cacophony coming from straight ahead, just beyond a thick-looking iron
door. People were screaming and jeering, accompanied by the unmistakable sound
of metal clanging against metal.
Boy’s
eyes were wide as he stared at the door, his nostrils flaring with terror.
Nothing in this place screamed ‘safe’; in fact, with every new turn all he felt
was pure terror.
The
guard reached around Boy; loudly and slowly he knocked twice on the iron door,
each knock thudding through his chest like a canon. Locks unbolted, keys
jingled, and finally, the iron door cracked open.
Boy's
eyes widened in disbelief as he drank in the scene. Grown men were everywhere
in the overcrowded room. There wasn’t a spare inch free, sweaty bodies pushing
and shoving one another from thick wall to thick wall. The men were drinking
vodka, exchanging money, hands waving in excitement as they all faced straight
ahead, their focus set on something just
ahead.
"Move,
boy," the guard ordered. Boy dragged his feet, reluctant to step across
the threshold into “hell.” But he couldn’t move. He was frozen to the spot, his
legs shaking and a dizziness spun in his head.
Gripping
the scruff of Boy's neck, the guard tightened his hold, making Boy wince as he
was steered aggressively through the baying crowd. Grown men stopped and sized
up Boy, some in approval, most in dismissal. They all became a blur to Boy, the
sight and smells too much for him to process.
Boy
felt faint. His lungs burned with the velocity of his short breaths. Boy's
fingers shook in sympathy with his fear, but he shook his head, cleared his
fearful thoughts like his father had taught him to do and he managed to keep
his head held high, meeting the owner of each curious stare right in the eye.
As
the crowd slowly parted, Boy startled at the scene in front of him—a huge
floor-to-ceiling square steel cage, the tops wrapped with sharp razor wire,
with flashes of movement coming from within. Pained grunts and spurts of blood
escaped the cage, splattering his gray-uniformed chest and bare face. This time
no breath came from his lungs at all. He was frozen; frozen on the spot with
shock, the tinny scent of blood invading his nose.
Boy
couldn’t believe his eyes. Could not digest the sight that greeted him: pain,
cut flesh, cries, blood… so much pain and blood.
Suddenly,
a wash of putrid breath blew past his ear. Boy flinched as he inhaled the
sickening stench of stale food and acrid tobacco smoke.
"Drink
it in, boy. That will be you in the
cage before too long."
Boy
held his breath until his chest could take no more. He exhaled sharply,
resisting the urge to cough or cry out.
Boy
had been taught from a very young age never
to show emotion. His father would punish him if he dared complain, never
mind cry. He refused to start here and now. Boy resolved to remain composed,
lugubrious, and stoic… anything he had to be to get through this… this,
whatever the hell it was.
A
loud rip sounded from the cage, the sound slicing down his back and bringing
vomit to his mouth. As a huge spectator abruptly moved out of the way smiling
in celebration, everything became clear. The fighters in the cage were kids… boys who looked no older than
himself.
And
they were fighting… to the death…
AUTHOR BIO
Amazon
& USA Today Best Selling Author, Tillie Cole is a Northern girl through and
through. She originates from a place called Teesside on that little but
awesomely sunny (okay I exaggerate) Isle called Great Britain. She was brought
up surrounded by her English rose mother — a farmer’s
daughter, her crazy Scottish father, a savagely sarcastic sister and a
multitude of rescue animals and horses.
SOCIAL
MEDIA LINKS
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7074846.Tillie_Cole
GIVEAWAY
Hosted by
.jpg)
