If you think I'm a monster hunter with a death wish, you haven't been paying attention. Ava Ashe goes down fighting if she goes down at all. Which is why when a gang drags me into the darkest parts of Fae's catacombs, I fight like I'm already dead. Because the only thing I have left to lose isn't my life. It's my sister's. So I fight. And I use everything I have at my disposal to escape, including drugs laced with magic, because the fae who are forcing me to kill their king will not accept death as an excuse. And by the time the dark enforcer of the Shadow Court—a fae so ruthless even his own kind fear him—comes to reclaim me, I'm nothing but a quaking shell of pain and addiction. Death is a mere breath away. He's grumpy and demanding and still somehow hot AF, and I know he's only nursing me back to health because those who took me, took me on his watch. But I let him tend me. I let him pretend he cares, and I hope to be healthy enough to commit the atrocities they want of me before they make Kit pay for my recklessness. It's just that I have a feeling escaping the catacombs isn't the worst Fae has to throw at me. Because I might have barely survived the flesh markets, but I'm not sure I'll survive the dark enforcer's nursing.