The Tormentors (Prey Series #1)

The Tormentors (Prey Series #1)

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing10h 50m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Tue, Nov 4, 2025
I escaped one monster, only to stumble on three more. At Milestone High, they're practically gods-power, wealth, and dangerously sharp looks making them untouchable. But these monsters? They've set their eyes on me, and they're not the type to play nice. They want to break me, to strip me bare and expose the secrets I've fought so hard to bury. What they don't realize is that I've faced demons far worse than anything they can imagine. Letting them dig up my past? Not an option. If they think they can shatter me and force my hand, they're in for a surprise. Because if they want to uncover my secrets, they'll have to "try harder".
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My name is Wren. I'm exhausted, under-caffeinated, emotionally unstable... and apparently mated to a god, a jealous alpha, and my teacher with arms thicker than my will to live.** I wish I was kidding. But nope. I got dumped at Hollowthorn Academy - a school for the powerful, the broken, and the chronically unwell - and now I have three dangerously hot soulmates fighting over me like I'm the last snack on Earth. And honestly? I kind of want all three. πŸ–€ **Ashriel** - The god in my head. No, seriously. He lives in my mind, talks in cryptic riddles, and acts like he owns my body. He's terrifying, obsessive, and somehow the only one who makes me feel safe when I'm falling apart. I think he wants to devour me. In multiple ways. πŸ–€ **Ryan** - The Beast. Alpha shifter. Growls when I look at other guys. Gets jealous of my cereal. Once threatened a chair for getting too close. He's chaos in a hoodie. But when he touches me, I feel like I could stop running. πŸ–€ **Theron** - My teacher. Yeah. That's going well. He's quiet, massive, and stares like I'm both a threat and his last meal. I know I should be scared. But I feel seen. Protected. Like he could hold all my broken pieces together... and snack on me while he's at it. Meanwhile, I'm stress-eating Honey Nut Cheerios and trying not to scream every time someone says I'm "chosen." There's something inside me. A mark. A power. A darkness. Everyone says I'm special. But I don't feel special. I feel like a haunted gremlin with abandonment issues and way too many men breathing down my neck. Still... maybe I could be more. Maybe I could fight fate, fall in love, and survive the wreckage of who I used to be. Or maybe I'll cry in the girl's bathroom and eat emergency cookies out of my bra. Either way... I'm not going down without snacks.

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