Die for you, p.1
Die for You, page 1
Copyright © 2025 by Harmony West
Cover Design © 2025 by Beholden Book Covers
Art © 2025 by Zoe Maxwell
Published by Westword Press
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner for the purpose of training artificial intelligence technologies or systems.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN (paperback): 979-8-9881181-8-3
Also by Harmony West
Diamond Devils Series
If You Dare
Drown in You
Devil You Know
Die for You
Saint and Sinner Duet
Her Saint
His Sinner
Standalones
Always with You
Captivate Me
Trigger Warnings
Die for You is a dark romance with heavy themes. Reader discretion is advised, as this book contains:
Sexually explicit scenes
Stalking
Car accident
Graphic violence
Kidnapping
Death of a parent (remembered)
Domestic violence
Invasion of privacy
Home invasion
Hidden cameras
Alcohol consumption
Public sexual activities
Sharing
Primal play
Breath play
Mask play
For my readers,
Thank you for sticking with me until the end
Contents
1. Aurora
2. Finn
3. Knox
4. Damien
5. Aurora
6. Finn
7. Damien
8. Aurora
9. Aurora
10. Knox
11. Aurora
12. Aurora
13. Finn
14. Aurora
15. Damien
16. Aurora
17. Aurora
18. Finn
19. Aurora
20. Knox
21. Damien
22. Finn
23. Knox
24. Aurora
25. Finn
26. Aurora
27. Damien
28. Aurora
29. Finn
30. Aurora
31. Damien
32. Knox
33. Aurora
34. Finn
35. Aurora
36. Knox
37. Aurora
38. Knox
39. Damien
40. Finn
Epilogue
Read More From Harmony West
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter 1
Aurora
I’ve escaped from danger only to run right back into its arms.
With my stiletto, I stomp as hard as I can on the tennis shoe of whatever asshole has me in his clutches.
He hisses through his teeth and drops his arms long enough for me to spin and aim a kick right between his legs.
His shout of agony echoes over the throbbing beat of pop music and the buzz of drunken college students.
“Jesus!” His friend claps a hand on his shoulder, brows furrowed in a grimace like he can feel my assailant’s pain as his own. “You know how sensitive balls are? You could’ve just sterilized him for life.”
As if in agreement, the guy retches. I step back to avoid the incoming splatter of vomit. “Good. Anyone who grabs random women at a party without their consent doesn’t need to reproduce.”
“He thought you were his girlfriend.”
“Then I did her a favor. No unwanted pregnancies now.”
I turn on my heel and stomp away from the meatheads.
Of course this is how my first frat party would play out. I wanted the whole college experience, and this is it. How disappointing.
Still, it sure as hell beats being locked up by Jeremiah. Being told when I can leave, where I can go, who I can talk to. I spent way too many goddamn years taking his orders, keeping my head down, shutting up when he told me to. I’m done taking orders, and I’m done living my life by someone else’s instructions.
So if I want to go to a frat party and kick some asshole with bad BO and no manners in the balls, I’m going to do it.
Too bad parties are pretty much a bust when you don’t have any friends. No one by your side to gossip, drink, or dance with. Even the booze tastes like shit.
I’m not exactly sure this is a typical frat party. Most of the attendees are wearing masks. Not sure what’s up with that—Halloween was months ago. I must’ve missed the memo.
On my phone, the bright numbers tell me it’s just past eleven. A little early to bail on a college party, but it’s not like anyone is keeping tabs on me. For the past four years, I’ve only had one person in the whole world who claimed to care about me, and I finally escaped him fifteen days ago.
Fifteen days. Three hundred sixty hours of freedom. And yet I still feel eyes on me, like a camera watching my every move.
Bass music rattles my brain, making my temples ache. A far cry from the high, mellow croon of my violin. I can play for hours, until my fingers feel like they’re about to fall off, without a flicker of pain in my eardrums.
Parties are officially overrated.
As I weave through a crowd gathered at the landing in front of the staircase, I spot three giants in gas masks leaning against the wall. One with his head tipped back, mask facing the ceiling. The other two with their masks pointed toward the stairs, all three of them ignoring the girls gyrating against them.
I grind my teeth. What is with all these assholes tonight? They’re lucky to have girls dancing for them, girls eager for their attention, and they don’t even have the decency to look at them. If I was one of those girls, I’d be pissed.
“Nice masks,” I call as I pass. “I like that they cover your faces.”
Petty? Yes. Bitchy? Maybe. But even if those guys don’t give a shit about what some random girl at a party thinks of them, it makes me feel better.
A low voice floats out behind me, distorted by his mask. “Was that—?”
“Wait!”
I stiffen at the sharp, raspy command, but I keep going. Fuck those guys. I’m not giving them another second of my attention. They have plenty of other girls to keep them occupied. I’m not looking for a conversation, an argument, or a one-night stand.
I slip through the bodies crowding the hallway and aim for the exit. My phone vibrates in my pocket. Only one of two options—an email, or a text from him.
Please be spam.
When I dare a glance at the screen, my stomach twists.
Unknown
You need to talk to me.
He won’t leave me the fuck alone. I’ve already blocked his number—the second I packed my suitcase and got the hell out of his house. But he got a new one as soon as he realized he couldn’t contact me. He’ll always find a new way to get to me.
I swipe the notification away, his string of increasingly demanding texts unanswered.
He’ll cuss me out soon, call me the worst names he can come up with, then apologize and guilt-trip me an hour later. Blame me for what he says, how he acts. Somehow make me the villain in all of this.
For a long time, I believed the way he twisted our story. Not anymore.
“That guy’s staring at you like he wants to kill you.” A husky feminine voice draws my attention away from my phone.
A girl with black hair streaked with flares of crimson watches me. Her face is dotted with piercings, legs covered in fishnets, short skirt stopping high on her thigh. Her blue-eyed stare isn’t exactly warm or inviting, but it’s not unkind either. More like bored.
Beside her, a girl in a tight red dress with soft brown hair chews her lip, brows furrowed in concern for . . . me?
“What guy?” Who the hell could they possibly be talking about? I’m an antisocial music major. I’ve barely spoken to anyone at this university long enough for them to hate me.
Goth Girl points at a tall figure on the opposite end of the room. He towers over the other heads around him, the tallest, bulkiest person in the crowd. Eyes narrowed on us. His beady gaze is sharp enough to draw blood.
My heart drops to the floor. He’s found me.
“Shit.” I stuff my phone into my pocket. I need to get the fuck out of here.
“Who is he?” The brunette senses my urgency, and her voice comes out in a hushed, high-pitched whisper.
“My fucking ex.”
How the hell did he find me? How did he know I’d be at this party tonight? He’s not a student. I haven’t responded to any of his texts. I haven’t given him any clues about where I’d be.
Hot tears sting my eyes. I should’ve known it wouldn’t be this easy to escape him.
“We’ll distract him,” the raven-haired girl offers.
I manage a smile, even as my heart is pounding so hard it hurts. “Thanks . . .”
“Juliet,” she supplies.
Juliet’s friend hugs me so fast, I don’t even have time to react before she drops her arms. Her jasmine scent is
“Aurora.”
I’m barely able to get my name out before Juliet shoos me toward the door. Her flat, blue eyes rimmed with coal-dark liner don’t betray an ounce of worry. She’s a girl who handles shit. I’m lucky as hell that she got to me tonight before he did. “Go. We’ll make sure he doesn’t follow you.”
I nod and spin as soon as he starts parting the crowd to get to me. My heart thuds in my throat, threatening to suffocate me. I won’t let him get his hands on me again.
“Wait!” Sienna calls to my back. “We should get your number to make sure—”
But I’m already flinging the door open and bracing against the frigid night air. I half-jog down the steps and hurry along the sidewalk, clutching my coat to me as frosty raindrops begin to fall.
I don’t need them to check up on me. Distracting Jeremiah to let me escape him is enough. As long as he can’t follow me, as long as he can’t hunt down my new address, I’m safe.
At least, that’s what I’ll tell myself.
Chapter 2
Finn
“That was her, wasn’t it?” Behind their masks, Damien and Knox exchange glances.
Knox shrugs. “Not sure. I couldn’t get a good look at her face.”
That halo of pale blonde hair sure as hell looked like the same shade as our girl’s. The girl none of us has been able to get out of our heads since we saw her on campus last semester. We’ve been looking for her ever since. No luck.
But that voice wasn’t anything like I expected. Not the ethereal, soft, mousy voice of a shy, reserved girl trying to fold into herself. This voice was poisoned honey—sweet and warm with a razor-sharp, dangerous edge.
“Finn?” Damien nods at me. “You think it was her?”
I shake my head. “Wishful thinking.”
We’ve been seeing her everywhere, only for the girl to turn out to have the wrong nose, the wrong eyes, the wrong mouth, the wrong shade of blonde when you got up close. Who knows if our girl is even on campus anymore.
Gone before we ever got her. Before we even learned her name.
A high-pitched giggle rattles my eardrums. All too familiar.
I straighten. Shove the puck bunnies dancing together in front of me out of my way and ignore their protests. Push through the crowd, guided by that fucking laugh.
Find her with the latest recruit in his white mask with holes at the eyes and mouth. Ryder, a transfer student in his freshman year who’s already better than some of the seniors. Two of our four goals tonight were his.
I’d admire him if he wasn’t making Quinn laugh like that. Eyeing her up like she’s his next meal.
I squeeze his shoulder. Hard. He flinches. “Sister.”
His dark eyes flash as his gaze darts between me and Quinn, who scowls at me. “Didn’t know you had a sister,” he grumbles.
None of the Devils do. Quinn hates sports, so she’s never been to a game before. But now that it’s my last semester, she offered to attend at least one game, and eventually, the final game of the season.
Should’ve known better than to expose her to the Devils. Now, she’s sneaking into frat parties after I instructed her to go home.
“You don’t have to leave,” she protests when he steps back.
Ryder holds his hands up in surrender. Smart. “No-sisters rule. Sorry.”
As soon as he disappears into the throng of bodies, Quinn punches my arm. A little too hard for someone a mere five-foot-five with scarecrow arms. With her hands, Quinn signs, I wasn’t even flirting with him. I have a boyfriend.
Quinn is hard of hearing, and we learned sign language together when we were kids. Neither of our parents cared enough to learn, and it’s felt like our own secret language ever since. Her hearing aid helps, but in a crowded place like this with so many sounds overstimulating us, sign language is easiest.
Don’t care. He was flirting with you, and you shouldn’t be here. And you shouldn’t have a boyfriend.
Quinn rolls her eyes. I’m eighteen.
Call him up and invite him then.
No way, you’d scare the shit out of him.
Good. Wouldn’t hurt to let the little prick know not to mess with my sister. She’s been through enough shit in her life, and I’d crawl through hell before I let anyone hurt her again.
Can you take the mask off? I can’t take you seriously with that thing on.
No way. This is what the ladies are into.
Quinn’s dark eyes turn uncharacteristically serious. You can’t protect me from everything, you know. She’s gone. I’m safe now. You have to stop making your whole life about taking care of me and live yours.
I’ll never stop wishing I could protect Quinn from everything. I failed to protect her when we were kids, failed to protect her from the mother who was supposed to protect us. Even with our mother dead and buried, I’ll never stop being haunted by Quinn’s cries. Her shouts for me, the big brother who wanted nothing more than to protect her, save her, and couldn’t.
I don’t think so. How about I put you in a bubble instead?
Quinn shakes her head, a begrudgingly amused smile sneaking across her lips. You need another hobby. Get a damn girlfriend already.
I snort. Right. Find a girl who could possibly love a guy who hates every second he has to speak. A girl who could somehow be okay with a life of silence.
Quinn will never understand because she makes friends everywhere she goes. She’s had boyfriends since seventh grade, much to my horror. She’s easy to love. Me? Not so much.
A heavy hand lands on my shoulder. “And who’s this?”
Knox lifts his mask and grins down at Quinn. She bats her lashes at him. Oh, hell no.
I shake off his hand. “Sister.”
His brows shoot up to his hairline. “You have a sister?”
“Quinn,” she offers with a bright smile.
“Quinn? Quinn and Finn?” He flashes me a taunting grin. “Rhyming names. So cute.”
Quinn’s working theory is that our mother decided to give us rhyming names so they’d be easy for her to remember when she wasn’t sober. Which was most of the time.
“I’m Knox,” he tells her before raising a brow at me. “Were you two using sign language?” When I nod, his eyes brighten. “How have we lived together this long and I’m just now finding out you have a sister and know sign language?”
Don’t know. Surprised it took your nosy ass this long to find out.
Quinn giggles. Even though Knox has no clue what my hand movements mean, he grins and claps me on the back. He’s always been a good sport. Wish I could be as happy as he always seems to be.
Other than Quinn, Knox and Damien are the only two people in the world who accept me the way I am. They don’t ask why I’d rather stay silent. They don’t mock me for how deep my voice is, even when my own mother did. I’d look at my father standing silently beside her like I was looking at myself years into the future, silent and miserable.
“You want a drink?” Knox asks Quinn.
“She’s seventeen.” Off by a year, but it doesn’t matter. She’s still in high school. She’ll drink at a frat party over my dead body.
“Oh shit.” Knox laughs. “You’re definitely not drinking then.” He nods to the exit. “You better get your ass home safe.”
Before Quinn can object, someone calls out Knox’s name. His gaze lands on a girl I don’t know, and his expression changes to something unrecognizable. The smile drops and his shoulders stiffen before he mumbles, “Gotta go,” and disappears into the crowd without so much as a goodbye to my sister.
To Quinn, I sign, Seriously. Go home.
Relax. My boyfriend’s on his way. She smirks. Then we’re going to crash another party and hook up.
She’s trying to provoke me. And it’s working. Give me his address.
Quinn laughs before throwing her arms around my middle, squeezing tight. When she pulls back, her smile is soft, gentle. I’m happy. I wish you would let yourself be happy too.
Some tight, hard knot in my chest softens. You deserve to be happy.
That’s all I’ve ever wanted since I was a kid—for my little sister to be happy, safe. For her to smile more than she cries.
A text lights up her phone. The boyfriend’s here to pick her up. Little shit won’t even walk in the house. No way I’m letting him stick around.
