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We thought the games were over, but they’ve only just begun…

She was the puppet.
He pulled the strings.
Now the death toll is rising, what could this mean?
It was all a game.
Of feelings.
Of pain.
Death is just an illusion, or so they say.
She was just a pawn on a piece of his demented board. But there’s only one question left to settle the score…Can dead people really stay dead?


S.M. Soto


Book Series: 

The second book in S.M. Soto’s thrilling Chaos series is out now, and I have a sneak peek for you.

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With trembling hands, I clutch the knife against my chest as I creep down the darkened hallway. My heart gallops with so much force I can feel the pounding against my hands. The wooden floorboards creak beneath my feet and I wince with each sharp noise, praying no one will hear.

Shifting my gaze over my shoulder, I check my surroundings for any lingering threats. I try to push past the fog muddling my brain and figure out where the hell Finlay took me. If we were on a remote island, there’s no way he could’ve taken me to a normal hospital—which explains the shady doctor, I guess. But this place that I’m in? It looks like an old rickety shack.

The floor beneath my feet is worn with gaps in between the boards of wood, and the planks of wood on the walls look so old, just one touch will leave me with a splinter. I feel like I’m stuck in an old cabin in the woods. I suck in a sharp breath as I near a room in the hall with the door thrown wide open. My fingers clutch around the knife as I step past the dim light of the room.

Sucking my bottom lip into my mouth, I nibble anxiously as my gaze darts around the unoccupied room. There’s no sign of anyone inside, the room is deathly still. Tossing a paranoid glance over my shoulder, I force my legs to keep moving.

I shuffle through the hallway until it tapers off into a small living room—if you can even call it that. Resting against the wall is a worn, patchy, orange couch, and the light bulb hanging from the string in the center of the room sends a chill down my spine, eerily reminding me of when I was taken. My eyes drift around the room until they fall on the looming front door. I swallow thickly, my mouth going dry as I stare at my only possible escape. I don’t know where Finlay is or when he’s coming back. He could be outside with a gun just waiting for me, for all I know. Even if he isn’t, how the hell will I make it off this island alive? That is, if I’m still on the same island. I don’t know how much time passed after Finlay drugged me, but by the looks of the light streaming in through the windows, I’d say it’s evening. Only a few more hours until night falls. Fear takes hold of my body as I try to think of a smarter way out, but I’ve come to the realization there isn’t one. It’s now or ever. If I want to protect my baby, I need to run as far away from Finlay as I can get.

So that’s what I do.

I run.

Tossing open the front door, I shoot out of the shack on my bare feet and fly to the hidden safety of the trees. Branches and twigs crunch beneath my pounding feet as I force my legs to pump harder, pump faster. I weave this way and that, ignoring the scrape of the trees against my face and arms. The twigs and branches almost feel like hands trying to hold me back and stop me from my escape.

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