Home > God of Ruin (Legacy of Gods #4)

God of Ruin (Legacy of Gods #4)
Author: Rina Kent





I’m out for revenge.

After careful planning, I gave the man who messed with my family a taste of his own medicine.

I thought it’d end there.

It didn’t.

Landon King is a genius artist, a posh rich boy, and my worst nightmare.

He’s decided that I’m the new addition to his chess game.

Too bad for him, I’m no pawn.

If he hits, I hit back, twice as hard and with the same hostility.

He says he’ll ruin me.

Little does he know that ruination goes both ways.






Blood on Your Hands – Veda & Adam Arcadia

Angel of Small Death & The Codeine Scene – Hozier

RUNRUNRUN – Dutch Melrose

Roman Empire – MISSIO

The Worst in Me – Bad Omens

Skins – The Haunting

Don’t Say I Didn’t Warn You – VOILA & Craig Owens

Supernatural – Barns Courtney

Rude Boy – Rihanna

Happiness is a Butterfly – Lana Del Rey

Artistry – Jacob Lee

Bad Decisions – Bad Omens

Last Cigarette – MOTHICA & AU/Ra

Anarchist – YUNGBLUD

Colors – Halsey



You can find the complete playlist on Spotify.









Tonight, a certain eyesore presence will get a taste of his own medicine.

I stride through the darkness of the night with a chip on my shoulder and rage boiling in the very marrow of my soul.

My fingers splay on the strap of the mask covering my face. Breath condenses against the plastic and sweat coats my upper lip.

The place where my plans will take place materializes in front of me—huge, imposing, and dreadfully heartless.

Not empty, though.

These types of hedonistic meccas are often brimming with wannabes who like to think they’re worth more than their parents’ bank accounts.

But, oh well, none of my plans would have meaning in the absence of a crowd.

The dazzling lights of what can only be called a mansion slash through the night with the brightness of a falling star.

There’s nothing modest about what I’m looking at. It’s a huge three-story architectural wonder whose front brims with wide, tall windows.

That’s where all the lights shine through, particularly on the first floor. LED strips cover the trees in the vast garden surrounding the property. I can’t help feeling bad for the poor trees that are being suffocated for some random celebration.

The mansion’s exterior boasts a welcoming Victorian-like vibe that promises great fun, but I’m not fooled.

Inside that mansion lurks skin-crawling danger wrapped in a dazzling appearance.

And tonight? I’m going straight for that danger’s throat and bringing him to his damn knees.

“Slow down, Mia!” a feminine voice calls, crowded with frustration.

I throw a glance back to find my twin sister, Maya, holding her carnival mask with golden ornaments in hand as she pants.

My eyes grow wide behind my own mask and I pull her to the side before we cross the property’s gate.

She struggles under my firm grip, her whines resembling those of a petulant child.

“Ugh, you’re hurting me.” She releases herself from my merciless hold after a long struggle. It’s no secret that I’m the twin who loves strength training. Maya is more interested in massages and sculpting her model body.

We’re under a tall tree with bent branches that offers some form of camouflage from any onlookers.

Maya hikes a hand up her hip over the skintight glittery black dress that leaves nothing to the imagination. My sister has always been proud of her slim hourglass figure and C-cup breasts, and she’s never shied away from showing them off.

We’re identical twins, so we have the same petite facial structure, almond-shaped light-blue eyes, and full lips, though hers are slightly bigger than mine. Our hair is shiny platinum blonde, but she keeps hers long—currently swishing to her lower back—while mine falls just below my shoulders.

Usually, I’d have a ton of ribbons in mine, but since I’m trying to stay under the radar, I have it in a ponytail tied with only one blue ribbon.

I’m also wearing my least attention-grabbing outfit—a simple strapless leather dress that reaches the tops of my knees.

My boots for the night are the tamest I have and the only ones that aren’t chunky or covered with chains.

Maya, however, chose to wear heels, as usual, not seeming to care about whether or not that would hinder our mission.

I point at the mask in her hand and gesticulate to her face, then sign, “You’re supposed to be wearing that! They have cameras around, and you might have just offered them a front-row seat to our identities.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically, proving her position as the ultimate drama queen I know. “Relax. The camera range only starts once we’re close to the gate. And I was going to put it on, if you’d been patient for, like, two seconds.”

“Don’t mess with me.” I snatch the mask and smash it to her face, then strap it around her head so that it’s secured.

She whines and groans. “You’re running my hair, idiot. Let go. I’ll do it myself.”

I only release her once I’m satisfied with the mask’s placement. She glares at me through the eyeholes as she proceeds to fix her hair.

“Don’t give me that,” I sign. “You know how much effort it took for me to get a goddamn invitation to this pretentious event. The last thing I need is for something to go wrong.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She throws her hand in the air with obvious exasperation. “I’ve heard the story about your sacrifices a thousand times, to the point that I can recite them back.”

“In that case, stick to the plan and stop giving me headaches.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She does a mock salute and I make a face behind my mask.

Since she can only see my eyes, Maya can’t get the full picture, but she still smirks anyway like an annoying idiot.

My twin sister has always been my best friend, but she often drives me up the wall with her shenanigans.

After I make sure neither of our faces is showing, we start walking toward the mansion again.

Or more accurately—the Elites’ compound.

When I first came to Brighton Island, I had to learn a few rules. The most important one is that there are two rival colleges on this island. The one I belong to is American and called The King’s U. It’s funded by powerful people whose pockets are filled with new money. The kind whose source or motives are hard to pinpoint.

My parents are included in the group of powerful people. We’re Russian mafia royalty and they happen to be leaders in the New York Bratva.

The other college is Royal Elite University—or REU. British, loaded with old money and pretentious aristocracy.

Our college has two clubs: the Heathens, with which our loyalty lies since my brother and cousins are members; and the Serpents, who are second on my shit list.

First on that list, however, is the Elites. The secret club and the holy grail of REU.

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