Pretty Deadly Things Series by Logan Chance – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Pretty Deadly Things Series by Logan Chance – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Wed, 13 May 2026 18:50:12 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Pretty Deadly Things Series by Logan Chance – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 Make Them Obey (Pretty Deadly Things #5) Read Online Logan Chance http://www.ilovenovels.com/make-them-obey-pretty-deadly-things-5-read-online-logan-chance Wed, 13 May 2026 18:50:12 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/make-them-obey-pretty-deadly-things-5-read-online-logan-chance Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love Authors: Logan Chance Series: Pretty Deadly Things Series by Logan Chance
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Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 60768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)

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From USA Today bestseller Logan Chance comes a deliciously wicked dark romcom vigilante romance.

Poe Cameron doesn’t do obedience. He does revenge. But the mafia crime syndicate known as Goldenbell has his sister.

Kidnapped. Hidden. Alive only as long as Poe follows orders. Betray his vigilante crew, feed the syndicate intel, play the loyal attack dog… or they kill his sister.

Now Poe's undercover inside a trafficking ring he’s desperate to destroy, walking a razor-thin line between saving his sister and burning the entire operation to the ground.

Then he meets her. Orchid Lin.

Goldenbell’s enforcer. The woman who makes grown men obey with a smile and a threat. She doesn’t trust Poe, so she keeps him on a leash… in a safehouse with one bed and nowhere to run.

She wants him broken. Trained. Controlled.

Poe wants to bring Goldenbell down.

And if falling for the enemy is what it takes to make them obey?

So be it. He’ll obey long enough to get close, then he’ll make Goldenbell choke on every order they ever gave him.

*Make Them Obey is a high-heat, high-stakes dark romcom packed with forced proximity, one bed, vigilante justice, savage banter, and a hero who’ll burn the world down to save his sister

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

ONE

POE

The first time I hear my sister cry through a cheap burner phone, everything inside me just... stops.

The world keeps spinning like an asshole. Traffic hisses past the hospital windows, tires slicing through puddles from the earlier rain. The elevator dings somewhere behind me, cheerful and oblivious. The heart monitor on the gurney I stole beeps steady, like it's mocking me for playing monster tonight.

I’ve kidnapped someone because they’ve kidnapped my sister. It’s fair in my eyes.

The noise in my head—the constant stream of code, exit routes, contingency plans, all the bullshit that keeps me one step ahead—snaps off like someone yanked the plug. Because that sound? Enley's voice cracking on the other end? That's real. That's the only thing that matters right now.

“Poe,” she whispers, and it’s all wrong. Too thin. Too careful. Like she’s learned exactly how much air she’s allowed to use in whatever hellhole they’ve got her in.

My knuckles go white around the gurney handle. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, turning everything into harsh edges and sick yellow tones.

“Enley,” I say back, keeping my voice low and even. Control. That’s all I’ve got left, so I wrap it around me like armor.

A man laughs on the line. It’s this quiet, confident rumble that says he doesn’t need to yell to own the room. “Sweet,” he drawls. “You can still do gentle. That’s nice.”

My stomach twists hard, like someone jammed a fist in there and squeezed.

The phone feels slick against my ear, sweat making the cheap plastic slip. I keep pushing the gurney down this service corridor I have zero business being in, wheels squeaking softly. A big red sign screams AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. Yeah, well, fuck that. I’m not authorized for jack shit tonight.

Tonight I’m a thief.

Tonight I’m a traitor to the only people who’ve ever had my back.

Tonight I’m whatever these bastards need me to be if it means Enley walks out of this alive.

“What do you want?” I ask, forcing the words out calm even though my pulse is hammering like a drum solo.

“Don’t act brand new,” the voice snaps back, lazy but sharp underneath. “You know exactly what we want. You already started the game.”

I glance down at the guy strapped to the gurney. Salem Bloom’s estranged father. Arthur Charles. He looks like hell—gray around the mouth, bruises blooming purple and black across his face, sedated to the gills but still breathing. One of the IV lines swings gently with every push. The hospital bracelet on his wrist catches the light, mocking me with his real name.

I hate this part. The part where I have to treat innocent people like chess pieces. Where I have to drag some poor bastard into my mess because Goldenbell decided he’s useful.

A door swings open at the end of the corridor. A tired-looking nurse steps out, chart in hand, eyes half-closed like she’s running on fumes and bad coffee. I angle the gurney quick into a shadowed alcove, tucking myself behind a big linen cart. My heart gives one hard thud, reminding me I’m still breathing.

She doesn’t spot me. Just walks past, shoes squeaking on the tile. I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“What did you do to her?” I whisper into the phone, rage and fear mixing into something ugly in my chest.

The guy sighs like I’m the most exhausting thing he’s dealt with all week. “Nothing she didn’t earn. Nothing she won’t survive. That part’s up to you, Poe.”

Enley makes this tiny sound in the background—like she’s biting back a sob, trying so hard not to make noise. It guts me.

My jaw locks so tight my teeth ache. “Let me talk to her. Now.”

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Make Them Hurt (Pretty Deadly Things #4) Read Online Logan Chance http://www.ilovenovels.com/make-them-hurt-pretty-deadly-things-4-read-online-logan-chance Fri, 03 Apr 2026 23:15:16 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/make-them-hurt-pretty-deadly-things-4-read-online-logan-chance Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Insta-Love Authors: Logan Chance Series: Pretty Deadly Things Series by Logan Chance
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Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >72

She was supposed to be a rescue.
Not a temptation.

Ozzy Oliver is sent in to pull Salem Bloom out of a trafficking pipeline. But the moment he gets her free, the ring realizes she’s gone… and the hunt begins.

Now they’re trapped in a safehouse with one bed, no time, and enemies closing in. Ozzy’s got one keep her alive while he and his crew burn the whole operation to the ground.

Forced proximity turns into late-night confessions. Survival turns into heat.
And the men who hurt her?

Ozzy’s about to make them hurt back.

MAKE THEM HURT is a steamy, high-stakes vigilante romance packed with action, suspense, one-bed tension, and a protector hero who fights dirty for the woman he can’t let go

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

PROLOGUE

Salem

The skatepark in Saint Pierce always smells like hot asphalt mixed with that fake strawberry vape cloud kids pretend is cool. Concrete bowls chipped and scarred, rails tagged over so many times the colors bleed together into gray mush. Sirens wail somewhere far off, same as always. It’s like the city’s got one finger permanently on the panic button.

I’m parked on the lip of the biggest ramp, orange board balanced across my legs. It’s so loud it might as well be a traffic cone with attitude. My thumb keeps flicking through TikTok, scroll-scroll-scroll, like if I go fast enough the feed will swallow the knot in my chest.

It doesn’t.

Some kid drops in hard; wheels scream. A cheer goes up, then a wipeout, followed by that fake-ha-ha-I’m-totally-fine laugh. Yeah. Been there.

My phone buzzes.

Mom.

Missed call. No voicemail. No “hey are you alive?” Just her thumb brushing the screen and bailing halfway through the impulse. Probably a butt dial if I’m being honest. I hate her for that.

Heat crawls up my neck. My pulse thuds behind my eyes. I jam the phone deep into my hoodie pocket before I can be dumb enough to call her back and hope for once she picks up like she means it.

The board’s warm under my palms. The grip tape is rough and familiar. It’s the only thing that feels solid right now. And right now, that’s huge.

Another board rattles up, and stops inches from my knee.

“Yo. Orange board.”

I glance up.

A guy in a backwards cap with a grin too big for his face, smiles at me. His eyes slide over me—not the board, me.

“You skate?” he asks.

“Enough to know where they keep the good painkillers at the ER,” I say.

He laughs like I just told the joke of the year as he steps closer. He’s testing.

My lungs squeeze as my shoulders lock. I don’t budge an inch. I’ve been hit on by guys before. I also know an asshole when I see one.

“You here alone?” His voice drops, like we’re in on something dirty.

“Not even close.” Sweet smile. “I’m with my boyfriend.”

His dark eyes narrow. “Where’s he at?”

I tilt my head. “Probably figuring out how to yank teeth with pliers without getting blood on his shoes.”

The grin falters. He mutters something under his breath and rolls off.

My hands stay steady. However, my heart doesn’t.

Because it’s not him. It’s the thing already waiting at home. Carl. Mom’s boyfriend. The one who says “kiddo” like it’s cute while his stare lingers too long, too low. The one who thinks because Mom’s checked out, the house is his playground.

Last week he leaned in close enough I could smell his cheap body spray and whispered, If I was your age…

My stomach twists just remembering it. My skin feels too tight, like someone took a Brillo pad to the inside.

My phone buzzes again.

Unknown number.

My fingertips go numb as my pulse slams so hard I can feel it in my teeth. I open it anyway. Because apparently fear and nosiness cancel each other out.

UNKNOWN: u at the park?

UNKNOWN: u got the orange board right?

Ice slips down my spine. I scan the crowd. Kids grinding rails. Two dudes filming tricks. A couple on the bleachers sharing a slushie like nothing’s wrong with the world.

Normal. Normal. Normal.

Except the woods behind the park look blacker than they should. Trees packed tight, staring back.

ME: who is this?

Three dots.

UNKNOWN: friend of a friend. don’t freak out.

A laugh punches out of me. My ribs feel strapped tight. I’m the epitome of silently freaking out each and every day.

“Don’t freak out,” I mutter. “Yeah, great advice, dude.”

I flip to the chat with Jules. New girl. Pit bull in a flower crown for a profile pic. She’d slid into my comments after I posted about finally finding this park. Said she skates. Said she needed someone who could handle dark humor without flinching.

Soulmate material, maybe.

ME: here. ramp by the bowl. orange board.

Sun’s still up but dropping fast, throwing long shadows across the ramps like fingers reaching.

My phone buzzes nearly startling me. I almost drop the board, but I glance around the park and nobody notices me. No one ever does.

UNKNOWN: look behind u

Everything locks. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I turn slowly. Controlled. Refusing to let panic win the sprint. Fuck.

Nothing. Just concrete and noise and people who belong here.

I glance back to the screen.

UNKNOWN: not there. woods.

My throat clicks when I swallow. Every true-crime podcast I’ve ever binged is screaming don’t. Logic screams don’t. But something else—something tired and pissed—stands up inside me.

Tired of Carl’s hand “accidentally” grazing my waist. Tired of Mom’s glassy eyes when I say his name. Tired of scraping together grocery money when I should be stressing about algebra and who likes who.

With the board under my arm, and my phone clenched in my fist, I walk. One foot in front of the other. I walk straight toward the tree line. My heart pounds in my ears, but I ignore it.

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Make Them Beg (Pretty Deadly Things #3) Read Online Logan Chance http://www.ilovenovels.com/make-them-beg-pretty-deadly-things-3-read-online-logan-chance Wed, 07 Jan 2026 10:41:16 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/make-them-beg-pretty-deadly-things-3-read-online-logan-chance Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Forbidden Authors: Logan Chance Series: Pretty Deadly Things Series by Logan Chance
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Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 60921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >58

He’s used to being the predator.
He never expected to be her prey.

Knight Hayes lives for the hunt. There’s nothing quite like the adrenaline rush of taking down the kind of monsters who hide behind screens and power suits. He’s sharp, controlled, and always ten steps ahead… until someone starts watching him.

Every move. Every mission. Every secret.

She sees it all.

The stalker? His best friend’s little sister—the same girl who once doodled his name in hearts and now shows up in a leather jacket, wearing a mask, and holding all his secrets in the palm of her black-gloved hand.

Her name is Lark Dawson, and she wants in. But he’s not having that. Not on his life. Not on his missions. And definitely not in his passenger seat.

But Lark’s not playing by his rules. She’s got blackmail, a bat, and zero boundaries. And unfortunately for Knight… she’s not going away.

When a job goes sideways and both their faces hit someone’s most-wanted list, Knight’s only option is to go on the run—with the girl who makes him crazy in more ways than one. He’s supposed to keep her safe. Keep his hands off. Keep things strictly professional.

Too bad Lark has other plans.
And Knight? He’s starting to forget why saying no ever seemed like a good idea.

One cocky vigilante. One chaos-loving wild card. One explosive ride that will leave them both begging—for mercy, for safety, and maybe… for each other.

Make Them Beg is a high-heat, high-stakes enemies-to-lovers dark romcom with a badass heroine in combat boots, a hero who can’t stop growling, and enough heated tension to burn the whole operation down

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

ONE

JUST ANOTHER TUESDAY NIGHT FELONY

KNIGHT

You ever watch a man eat chicken wings like he doesn’t deserve happiness?

That’s what I’m dealing with tonight.

Across the cracked blinds of Table 13 at Nolan’s Bar, our target—one Gregory “Wife-Beater” Dunn—is elbows-deep in a plate of nuclear buffalo wings, licking his fingers like he didn’t just embezzle half a mil from a non-profit and break his ex’s nose last Christmas. He's got sauce on his chin. Hellfire on his rap sheet. And zero idea he's about to be served a different kind of justice.

I adjust the burner phone in my hoodie pocket and glance at the time. 9:47 p.m.

Right on schedule.

“Anything from Lark?” I murmur into the mic clipped to my shirt collar. My voice is a whisper beneath the buzz of bad jukebox country and the sound of someone losing a game of darts behind me.

Static. Then Arrow’s voice crackles in my ear. “Nothing yet. She’s still ghosting the outer firewall.”

Classic Lark. When I tell her no, she hears try harder.

“I swear,” I mutter, sipping flat soda from my sticky glass. “One day I’m gonna change all the passwords and lock her out for good.”

“You say that,” Arrow deadpans, “but last week she hacked your Nest thermostat and made your apartment play the Teletubbies theme every time you opened the fridge.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Don’t remind me.”

“Let me remind you of something else—our window’s closing. You’re sure this guy’s dirty?”

“Oh, he’s filthier than a Reddit comment section,” I reply. “I scrubbed his VPN trail last week. He’s been funneling charity funds into a shell company registered to a yacht named Assets & Ass. No joke. He also buys fake reviews for his self-published crypto e-book. And the worst part?”

Arrow hums. “Tell me.”

“His ebook sucks bad.”

“Jesus,” Arrow whispers. “Take him down.”

I grin.

This is what we do now.

After Arrow helped Juno track her sister’s killers, and Gage brought down that HR creep at NovaPlay, we got… hooked. Somewhere between the late-night missions, burner phones, and Red Bull-fueled stakeouts, it stopped being revenge.

And became a purpose.

We’re not cops. We’re not mercs. We’re just pissed-off misfits with high-speed internet and a low tolerance for bastards in power.

And tonight? Gregory Dunn is next.

“Alright, I’m moving in,” I mutter, sliding out of the booth. My hoodie is zipped, my gloves are on, and my boots are blessedly silent on sticky linoleum.

I cross the bar. The lights are dim, the air smells like spilled beer and shame, and the bouncer is too busy scrolling TikTok to clock me.

Dunn doesn’t even look up. Just keeps licking wing sauce off his fingers like a psychopath.

I lean close, hand on the edge of the booth. “You ever think about what it feels like to lose everything in one night?”

He blinks, and then his eyes dart up. “What?”

I smile. “Check your phone.”

It buzzes on the table. He hesitates. Then picks it up.

His expression melts from confused to panicked in three seconds flat.

Because on that phone? Is a video. Of him. In his home office. Moving funds. Screaming at his ex. Throwing a lamp. It's all there. Time-stamped. Synced. Edited. Beautiful.

“Who—how did you⁠—?”

I drop a thumb drive on the table. “That’s for the authorities. They're already en route.”

“Y-you can’t⁠—!”

“Already did.”

His hand moves for something. A knife? His phone?

Too slow.

I snatch his wrist and slam it into the table. Not hard enough to break, but enough to make a statement. “I suggest you stay put,” I say. “Or don’t. I kind of hope you run. I haven’t stretched in a while.”

His eyes are wide now. “You’re insane.”

“Probably,” I say with a wink.

Then I walk. Out the door. Past the bouncer. Into the night. And there, parked half a block down, is my old Altima.

Arrow’s waiting, laptop open, hoodie up, and chewing on a Slim Jim like he hasn’t eaten in ages.

“Cops got the tip?” I ask as I slide into the passenger seat.

He nods. “Three minutes out. You really dropped the ‘Assets & Ass’ line?”

“I’m a professional.”

He snorts.

I grab my own laptop from the back seat and boot up. “Alright,” I say, fingers flying across the keys. “Let’s scrub all the data, wipe the footage from my cam, and reset all network nodes. We’re ghosts.”

Arrow glances sideways at me. “You know… you could’ve just mailed the tip anonymously.”

“And miss the look on his face?” I grin. “Never.”

My phone buzzes.

It’s a text from a blocked number.

Blocked Number: [Attachment: Video File]

Caption: Your backdoor encryption sucks, Hayes. Try harder.

Arrow sees it.

“Is that…?”

“Lark,” I mutter, staring at the video. It’s from inside the bar. Of me. Confronting Dunn. The whole damn interaction.

She had eyes on me the entire time.

Arrow exhales a laugh. “She’s good.”

“She’s annoying,” I grumble. But my chest is warm. And tight. And kind of buzzing.

Because for the first time in a long time… I’m not sure I’m the predator anymore.

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Make Them Cry (Pretty Deadly Things #2) Read Online Logan Chance http://www.ilovenovels.com/make-them-cry-pretty-deadly-things-2-read-online-logan-chance Wed, 19 Nov 2025 18:28:38 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/make-them-cry-pretty-deadly-things-2-read-online-logan-chance Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Insta-Love Authors: Logan Chance Series: Pretty Deadly Things Series by Logan Chance
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Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >75

They called her curvy.

They called her worthless.

They never expected her to fight back.

River Quinn is done playing nice. After enduring years of online harassment from a pack of anonymous cowards, she’s hit her limit. The insults. The threats. The sick messages that keep her up at night. When the hate turns physical—doors left unlocked, shadows that shouldn’t be there—River turns to the only place the dark web.

She isn’t looking for justice.

She’s looking for vengeance.

Enter him. A masked vigilante who offers protection in exchange for secrecy. He’s dangerous. Silent. Untraceable. And he promises one thing—he’ll make them cry.

But River doesn’t know the man behind the mask is someone she already knows. Someone she loathes. Her cocky, arrogant coworker, Gage Dawson, who pushes all her buttons and steals the last cup of coffee. The one man she’d never willingly accept help from.

Too bad he’s been obsessed with her for years.

Too bad he’s the only one standing between her and the monsters who want to break her.

Too bad he's about to show her just how deadly he can be—for her enemies... and her heart.

Dark secrets. Masked desire. And a revenge plan that might just end with love.

Make Them Cry is a steamy, twisted enemies-to-lovers vigilante romance full of sharp banter, dark humor, and one possessive hero with a vigilante streak and a very dirty mouth. Buckle up. This one’s going to hurt so good

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

PROLOGUE

RIVER

I tell people I love my job and watch their shoulders drop in relief. As if passion is a shield. As if saying it out loud makes it true all the time.

Most days it is. I’m a video game developer at NovaPlay Studios, and there’s a high I chase that nothing else touches. Like the moment a broken loop finally runs, the second an enemy AI chooses exactly what I taught it to and my whole screen feels like fireworks. I live for the hum of the office before sunrise, the burn of coffee gone cold, and the tiny triumphs that string together into a world.

And then there’s the part where the world strings me up.

The first messages a year ago were gnats—annoying, harmless, buzzing around my DMs. “Hack.” “Try harder.” I swatted and kept coding. Then the gnats became hornets. Organized. Mean. They learned my name. They learned my face. I’m the visible one on our dev diaries, the cheerful voice in the behind-the-scenes. When someone hates a feature, they hate me with their whole chest. Threads spin out under my interviews like oil slicks—shiny, poisonous, impossible to clean.

I mute. I block. I pretend I’m Teflon. But Teflon scratches.

They critique my work. Then my body. Then my voice. Then my right to exist. It’s ridiculous how quickly your brain will nod along to strangers armed with avatars and bad grammar. It’s easier to believe the worst because the worst is familiar; it’s the voice I already use on myself when I’m tired and the code won’t compile.

Some nights I stare at my ceiling and negotiate with the dark. If I push harder, if I smile wider, if I disappear entirely—would they stop?

They don’t.

I keep going anyway. I plant my feet. I promise myself I won’t give a mob of ghosts the satisfaction of watching me quit the one thing that makes me feel like I’m more than a pair of hands at a keyboard.

And then the comment lands.

Not on my feed, but on Cathedral, the social network for our developers and players. A username I don’t recognize. Five words and a photo.

River Quinn lives here.

A grainy shot of my porch. My black-and-white welcome mat. The cracked flowerpot I never replaced. My ribs cinch so tight I can’t pull a full breath. I check the locks even though I’m already inside. I pull the blinds even though they were already closed. Terror makes you do things in duplicate. Triple.

My phone keeps buzzing, the notifications stacking into a tower I can’t climb down from. I scroll until my thumb aches, until the screen blurs, until my reflection—tired, puffy-eyed, not the cool girl from the dev diaries—stares back at me like she’s asking what we did to deserve this.

I’ve loved things that hurt me before, but never like this. Never where the thing I love—building worlds, finding the logic thread and following it out of the maze—becomes the very reason people think I should stop breathing.

“Don’t read the comments,” everyone says. As if the comments aren’t in my inbox, in my mentions, in my mailbox. As if they aren’t in my head.

I tell myself to code. To work. To focus on the boss fight tuning or the pathfinding bug in Level Twelve. But my hands hover above the keys, useless birds.

There are reasons I love and hate this job, and lately they stack like bad Jenga pulls. One more piece and the whole thing will topple. And then there’s the reason in human form—the one I’d rather not examine too closely because it complicates everything.

Gage Dawson.

He’s the kind of gorgeous that makes you forget your own name for a second—dimples, green eyes, all sun-through-glass and sharp edges. He’s also a walking red flag: brilliant, cocky, and the exact wrong person to make my heart trip when he leans over my shoulder to point at my code. He’s praise and threat in the same breath. He’s a problem I don’t have bandwidth for, and somehow the only person whose voice can cut through the noise in my head.

I hate that I notice him. I hate how much I want him to notice me back.

Another ping. Another laugh-cry emoji. Another “we know where you live” whispered through a screen.

I square my shoulders. I put my fingers on the keys and tell myself that if fear wants my life, it will have to pry it from my code-stained hands. My heart still sprints. My throat still burns. The mob still chants.

But the game needs me.

And, God help me, I need the game.

I need something steady when everything else shakes. Even if the ground I’m standing on is cracking. Even if the devil with dimples is smiling from two desks over.

ONE

RIVER

There’s a sign above the NovaPlay Studios office coffee maker that says PLEASE BE CONSIDERATE in Comic Sans, which tells you everything you need to know about the moral fiber of this place.

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Make Them Bleed (Pretty Deadly Things #1) Read Online Logan Chance http://www.ilovenovels.com/make-them-bleed-pretty-deadly-things-1-read-online-logan-chance Thu, 25 Sep 2025 16:04:11 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/make-them-bleed-pretty-deadly-things-1-read-online-logan-chance Genre: Alpha Male, Dark Authors: Logan Chance Series: Pretty Deadly Things Series by Logan Chance
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Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >102

He’s secretly stalking her inbox. She’s secretly hiring masked killers. Love’s never been this twisted—or this deadly.

Mega influencer Arby Kate’s murder shocked the world when five masked men ended her livestream… and her life. Now, months later, her sister Juno Kate is obsessed with revenge, turning to the dark web for vigilante justice. Arrow Finn, Juno’s best friend and hopelessly devoted secret admirer, panics when he discovers her dangerous plan—thanks to the spy software he’s secretly installed on her computer.

Determined to protect her, Arrow poses as an online masked vigilante expert to help Juno track down the killers. But as they chase shadows through the neon-lit streets of Saint Pierce, the lines between friendship, obsession, and love blur dangerously.

Can Arrow keep his identity hidden while Juno’s quest for justice spirals hilariously, chaotically out of control? Or will their twisted game of masks finally expose the truth they’re both too scared to admit?

Darkly comedic, outrageously romantic, and deliciously suspenseful. This masked-stalker romcom will steal your heart…if it doesn’t kill you first

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Glossary

YOLOv5: (you only look once): A real-time object detection algorithm and a prominent member of the YOLO family of models. Used to detect objects in images and videos.

OSINT (Open Source Intelligence): is the practice of gathering and analyzing publicly available information to produce actionable intelligence.

Nonplayer character: (NPC): a video game terminology used as a metaphor to describe someone who is perceived as lacking independent thought or blindly following trends.

VoIP: which stands for Voice over Internet Protocol. It’s a technology that allows you to make a phone call over the internet rather than traditional phone lines.

PoE injector, or Power over Ethernet injector. A device that adds power to an Ethernet cable, enabling it to power devices that support PoE (Power over Ethernet) without needing a dedicated PoE-enabled switch.

BLE: Bluetooth Low Energy: a wireless personal area network technology designed for low-power consumption, making it suitable for connecting devices like wearables, sensors, and beacons.

Prologue

ELIJAH

I’ve been waiting ages for this exact moment. Arby Kate. My obsession. My fascination. My hardcore, heart-pounding crush. She doesn’t know me, of course. Why would she? I’ve only seen her in person once, and even then, she didn’t see me. I was buried somewhere deep in the crowd at the local bookshop, craning my neck just to catch a glimpse of her as she walked gracefully by, ready to sign copies of her latest bestseller. She was dazzling, and I fell instantly, hopelessly, irrevocably in love.

Now, finally, she's about to go live on her channel. Today, she’s revealing her new tour dates, and there’s no way I’m missing out. This time, I’ll be there, front and center, ready to introduce myself. Ready to finally meet her properly, ready for her to actually see me.

My friends—okay, fine, they're not exactly friends, more like the bullies who took every opportunity to make my high school life miserable—tell me I should “get a life.” Move on, grow up. But they don't get it. They don't understand Arby’s magic, her brightness, how she effortlessly lights up every screen she appears on. They don’t realize how profoundly she’s changed my life simply by existing.

But high school is over now, and soon I’ll be heading off to college in the fall. Not just any college, either. Saint Pierce State University, the same college Arby Kate attends. Did I plan it? You bet I did. It certainly didn’t hurt that I’m a certified genius who could’ve gotten into any school I wanted. But there was only one choice, really—the one school that held the promise of being close to her.

I glance at my Mac screen as it flickers to life, and my stomach flutters nervously. I log onto Arby’s YouTube channel, counting down the minutes. Only fifteen minutes left until her sweet, bubbly voice floods my speakers, her vibrant pink ponytails bouncing cheerfully, and that impossibly bright smile illuminates everything.

God, I love her.

My obsession with Arby began last year when I was a senior in high school. She went viral on TikTok, spinning around in a fluffy pink tutu, laughing as if the whole world was a joyful place. Sure, there are thousands of women dancing and shaking their asses online, but Arby was different. Special. Her energy was contagious, her joy genuine. Every time she looked into the camera, it felt like she was reaching out directly to me, looking into my eyes, searching deep within my soul. And each time, my heart whispered the same undeniable truth.

She’s mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.

I grab the box of Kleenex from across the room, and set it closer to my computer screen. The lotion sits nearby, and I consider myself ready. Ready to watch Arby Kate dance on screen. Ready for her to announce her tour dates, and ready to jerk off to the fantasy of her.

I double check that my bedroom door is locked. Don’t need my mother walking in on me mid-stroke.

I dim the lights, letting the glow from the monitor light my room. I smile at the screen, waiting for Arby’s face to fill my screen.

And then, finally, the moment I’ve been desperately waiting for arrives.

My screen lights up, and there she is—Arby Kate—but instantly my heart stutters with confusion. Whoa. She looks…different. Her trademark bubblegum-pink ponytails are gone, replaced with a muted shade of blonde that almost blends into the background behind her. It’s as if the brightness she usually radiates has dimmed, overshadowed by something heavy. Something sad.

My pulse quickens as I lean closer to the screen, taking in every detail. She still flashes her usual smile, wide and perfectly rehearsed, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Those beautiful eyes. Beneath the expertly applied mascara and soft pastel eyeshadow, I see it—an unmistakable trace of exhaustion, worry, sadness. It’s subtle, but I can tell. Something’s wrong. Something she’s desperately trying to hide.

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