Reign of a King (Kingdom Duet 1)

Six Minutes.

Seven Bodies.

Eight Funerals.

The author is someone named Allen B. Thomas.

I don’t really read thrillers, so I have no idea who that is.

Opening the first book, I’m struck by the dedication page.

To my muse,

May every muse be like you.

It’s circled over and over with a red pen.

Was this Alicia?

The word ‘muse’ causes a premonition to hit me. Someone else used to call me that, and I still can’t figure out the meaning behind it.

I check the other two books. Both of their dedications are also circled in red.

The second book’s dedication is:

To my muse,

My reason for living.

The third book’s:

To my muse,

See you in hell.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, I open the three books and stare at them splayed out in front of me.

The way they were circled is aggressive, forceful even, to the point it’s left a mark at the back of each page.

There must be a reason why Alicia did this. What was she trying to communicate?

I start reading the first book.

The language is chilling, horror-film like. The prologue is about someone digging holes into the earth.

I pause reading, my fingers shaking, and trickles of cold perspiration glues my blouse to my back. Taking a deep breath, I continue.

The digging goes on and on. The thoughts of the person who’s doing the digging tighten my stomach and brings acute nausea to the back of my throat.

The memories I’ve spent so long burying rush to the surface like a demon snapping out of its chains. My head fills with dark, sinister images. The black dirt. The vacant eyes. The —

“What are you doing here?”

I startle, a yelp falling from my lips as I slam the book shut.

Fuck.

Jonathan towers over my sitting position, a hand tucked in the pocket of his trousers and his metallic gaze pinning me with utter disapproval.