Buy Links | Synopsis 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. |
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…
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…
Review
So I figured I would write my review as I was reading this book. It just needs to be done that way.
At 25% in, Tillie Cole just made me toss my iPad aside and walk away. Tears came to my eyes. It surprised me. Amazed me. Blew me away.
42%, Tillie writes such amazing descriptions of scenes. It makes me feel like I’m there, seeing it with my own eyes.
46%. Now I’m googling things I never thought I would. Weapons used and Russian words.
50%. Fanning self. Thanks Tillie for making me blush.
66%. It's all coming together.
70%. Saying oh my god out loud with tears in my eyes.
100% Perfection. Wanting more. How could it be over?
I have read everything Tillie Cole has written and loved them all. So when I saw an opportunity to review her newest release, Raze, it was an automatic sign up. But then I read the synopsis.
Raze was the book upon hearing the synopsis that I wasn’t sure if I actually wanted to read. I don’t always do dark. I have to be in the right mood. And when I started this book, I wasn’t in that mood. But I pushed through. Not because I made myself do it but because I needed to do it. It grabbed me. Pulled me in. Took me under. Deep down, I needed to read this book. And I am so glad I did.
This book did things to me. I know that I’m going to have an enormous book hangover from it. Even though it is dark and rough, it is a beautiful love story. A story about a second chance at love but like you’ve never read before. This book is so different. But in a such amazing way.
This beautiful love story includes one broken soul, Raze, and Kisa, a women who never gave up loving the one she lost. And I’m so afraid that I’m going to give away so much that I have to tell you just to read the synopsis.
Tillie Cole outdid herself with this book. She took me way outside of my comfort zone but made it ok. Because she can write anything. And is amazing at it. It blew me away with how well she wrote this with it being so totally different from any of her other books. She goes from writing about a curvy girl from England and a movie star to an English girl falling in love with a football star to writing about an MC and cult life to writing dark suspense about two souls torn away from each other. She is all over the place in what she writes but it works. Raze made me realize that I would read anything and everything Tillie writes because she can do it all and make it amazing.
“They were always meant to be together, one boy and one girl, two hearts split into two, sent to far-off lands on their own. For God wanted to see if true love could be tested. He wanted to see if two halves of one soul could find each other again, even against the odds.”
~Katie
At 25% in, Tillie Cole just made me toss my iPad aside and walk away. Tears came to my eyes. It surprised me. Amazed me. Blew me away.
42%, Tillie writes such amazing descriptions of scenes. It makes me feel like I’m there, seeing it with my own eyes.
46%. Now I’m googling things I never thought I would. Weapons used and Russian words.
50%. Fanning self. Thanks Tillie for making me blush.
66%. It's all coming together.
70%. Saying oh my god out loud with tears in my eyes.
100% Perfection. Wanting more. How could it be over?
I have read everything Tillie Cole has written and loved them all. So when I saw an opportunity to review her newest release, Raze, it was an automatic sign up. But then I read the synopsis.
Raze was the book upon hearing the synopsis that I wasn’t sure if I actually wanted to read. I don’t always do dark. I have to be in the right mood. And when I started this book, I wasn’t in that mood. But I pushed through. Not because I made myself do it but because I needed to do it. It grabbed me. Pulled me in. Took me under. Deep down, I needed to read this book. And I am so glad I did.
This book did things to me. I know that I’m going to have an enormous book hangover from it. Even though it is dark and rough, it is a beautiful love story. A story about a second chance at love but like you’ve never read before. This book is so different. But in a such amazing way.
This beautiful love story includes one broken soul, Raze, and Kisa, a women who never gave up loving the one she lost. And I’m so afraid that I’m going to give away so much that I have to tell you just to read the synopsis.
Tillie Cole outdid herself with this book. She took me way outside of my comfort zone but made it ok. Because she can write anything. And is amazing at it. It blew me away with how well she wrote this with it being so totally different from any of her other books. She goes from writing about a curvy girl from England and a movie star to an English girl falling in love with a football star to writing about an MC and cult life to writing dark suspense about two souls torn away from each other. She is all over the place in what she writes but it works. Raze made me realize that I would read anything and everything Tillie writes because she can do it all and make it amazing.
“They were always meant to be together, one boy and one girl, two hearts split into two, sent to far-off lands on their own. For God wanted to see if true love could be tested. He wanted to see if two halves of one soul could find each other again, even against the odds.”
~Katie
Author Info
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. |