Текст книги "Darkest distiny"
Автор книги: Pepper winters
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Darkest
Destiny
by
New York Times & USA Today Bestseller
Pepper Winters
DARKEST DESTINY
Copyright © 2026 Pepper Winters
Published by Pepper Winters
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Libraries are exempt and permitted to share their in-house copies with their members and have full thanks for stocking this book. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
No part of this book is permitted to be used in training AI models.
This is human written through numerous plot-notes, annoying rewrites, a painful amount of deletions, and untold number of agonising hours. And yes, receipts can be provided.
Published: Pepper Winters 2026: pepperwinters@gmail.com
Cover Design: Christley Creatives
Proofreading by: Christina Routhier
Contents
Dedication / Playlist
Author’s Note
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Acknowledgements
OTHER WORK BY PEPPER WINTERS
Dedication
To the muse who dumped Lucien Ashfall into my head and gave me no choice but to write his twisted, tortured tale...
And to all the amazing C-dramas guided by feeling, not logic; epicness instead of reality; and plotlines so beautifully absurd they become magic.
Because magic is awesome, and reality could really use better writers.
Playlist
Symphony of Misfits – Imagine Dragons
Believer – Imagine Dragons
Chills – Mickey Valen, Joey Myron
I Want Love – Jessie J
Secrets – OneRepublic
In the End – Linkin Park
Make Me Wanna Die – The Pretty Reckless
I Won’t Back Down – Tom Petty
The Ones You Think You Own – Ilia
Only – Nine Inch Nails
Let the World Burn – Chris Grey
Burn – Ellie Goulding
Author’s Note
This is a Dark Romance with a twist.
In my thirteen-year career and forty-plus books, I’ve always dabbled along that line of contemporary versus magical. Most of my books have some element that exceeds normal parameters, but I’ve never strayed completely into blending fantasy with modern fiction.
Until today.
This book starts like any of my others: dark and angsty with splashes of taboo. However, it evolves into a world that far exceeded my expectations and delivers:
More darkness.
More desire.
More danger.
More despair and death and destiny.
What begins as a twisted, obsessive, captor/captive romance unfurls into a world where trauma becomes shackles.
Where pain becomes power.
Where the villain becomes the only one capable of loving the heroine...
...and she becomes the only one capable of leashing him.
It’s angsty and mysterious, with an insane slow burn that will ache so, so badly.
However, when they catch fire...the world will burn.
Literally.
If you’re ready, prepare to enter Cinderkeep...
The content may be hard to read at times, so please enjoy responsibly.
(One final warning: I didn’t shy away from using clichés, em dashes, and plenty of human idiosyncrasies. Purely to show that every word of this book is written by me and not AI. And if you find a typo...well, it only proves I’m human and not a machine. :))
Happy reading!
Prologue
BY THE TIME I WAS TWENTY-TWO, I already had many names.
Runaway Heiress.
Missing Empress.
Slacker Queen.
The titles filled me with guilt for abandoning my responsibilities, but after witnessing my parents die in the name of making immortality a reality, I suffered what the media called a ‘nervous breakdown’.
I went from being groomed to take my rightful place at Snowflake Corp to vanishing overnight.
The beauty of disappearing meant troubles struggled to find me.
But it also meant that when they did find me, no one was there to save me.
And I found myself hurled into the darkest destiny imaginable...
Chapter One
“ARE YOU COMING BACK AT ALL in this lifetime?”
I sighed and inched away from the crowd of women. I knew answering my phone was a bad idea. “Frank, we’ve talked about this. I agreed to give you this number, but only for actual emergencies. Everything else, I don’t exist, got it?”
Frank Lampton—the MD, CEO, CFO, and basically king of Snowflake Corp groaned dramatically. “Rook, listen to me. We all know how hard it was on you when your parents—”
“Dissolved right in front of me?”
“Yes, well, they were playing with cryogenics and anti-aging compounds that—”
“Made their quest for immortality ensure they died far before their time?”
“I know it affected you, but you have responsibilities—”
“I was fifteen, Frank. I started those responsibilities when I was twelve. They yanked me out of school and my life was just another cog in their company. Forgive me if I no longer have the capacity to—”
“I’m not saying you had it easy. And I’m aware you’ve earned the right to be alone for a while, but...we need you here for more than the occasional signature. You’re the sole heir to every subsidiary and enterprise. Your disappearance sent ripples through the corporate world and—”
“They’ll survive.” I cut him off for the fourth time, sick of the same ‘ole conversation. “Look, if you don’t have an emergency—if the labs haven’t blown up or the pill for everlasting life hasn’t been created, then please, please, leave me alone.”
Already, I felt the headache pressing. The sharp shooting pains behind my eyes. Ever since that day, I’d suffered the aftereffects of death, along with the knowledge that I might’ve been a fifteen-year-old child, but overnight, every asset, obligation, and untold secret patents that Snowflake Corp was involved in became mine.
So I did what any logical, broken teenager would do and got the hell out of there.
“Ladies, my, my, what a fabulous turnout!” A man’s voice crackled through the speaker system, floating with a rich baritone through the luxury garden. Whipping around, I scanned the crowd of women. Some pretty, some not so pretty, some in dresses, some in jeans. But all of us had one thing in common thanks to the pink invitation in our hands.
“I have to go, Frank.”
“No, wait—”
“Thank you so much for accepting our offer to attend the Ember Wellness Retreat Weekend. With our grand opening next month, you’re an integral part of helping us find the areas of improvement that may arise. Because your feedback is so valuable, the entire weekend is on us—including unlimited massages, beauty treatments, and access to the many hot pools and ice baths within the estate.”
Everyone smiled at each other, clutching their bags packed with the essentials for a weekend at a five-star spa.
My headache started to fade, knowing that the moment I hung up the phone, I would once again be a nobody. A twenty-two-year-old slacker who had no ambition, no agenda, and had successfully become one with the art of doing nothing.
That was how I’d ended up at the right place, at the right time to receive an invitation.
I’d only just arrived in London from a month in Thailand. After so much sun, sand, and bright teal sea, I wanted to bundle myself up in sweaters and eat fried food in front of a fireplace in a thousand-year-old pub.
Two extremes. Two experiences.
That was what made up my life—just a constant drift toward the next stress-free moment with a single rucksack to my name—so when a handsome man approached me at said pub, asked if I was free this weekend and wanted to be pampered, I took it as a nudge from the universe to relax after my flight and agreed.
Of course, I wasn’t entirely stupid.
I might be one of the richest women alive and had long since lost the tangible value of money—seeing as it kept pouring into my account faster than I could give it away to charities—but I’d been put to work in my parents’ company when I was just twelve for a reason.
I’d been called smart. A prodigy of some sort. I didn’t believe it. Whatever was going on in my head was probably the reason I suffered such awful migraines—my brain was either malfunctioning or functioning at a level that caused it to overheat. Either way, I researched the name of the spa, called the one man I allowed to keep tabs on me for security purposes, and had him check it out too.
And everything came up roses.
Which was why I had to get rid of Frank so I could enjoy it.
“Where are you?” Frank asked, no doubt clinging to his phone for hints. “Ember Wellness Retreat? Where is that? Did I hear an English accent?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m turning my phone off now. You don’t need me, Frank. I gave you power of attorney over every decision, and I trust you.”
“But I don’t trust me. I need you. Tell you what. After the weekend, I’ll have the jet come collect you, alright? You could fly in, spend a few days with me going over everything, and then you can go back to the nomadic lifestyle.”
“I trust you,” I repeated. “Bye bye.”
“Rook Snowden, don’t you hang up on me—”
Too late.
Powering off the hated device that I only kept for maps and booking accommodation, I shoved it deep into my tatty rucksack and moved into the thicker part of the crowd.
Beneath my feet, polished white marble gleamed, flanked by immaculate hedgerows and archways, guiding the eye toward a gatehouse that towered above the small stage where a suited man stood with his microphone.
The three large coach buses that’d brought us here from downtown London rested quietly on the outskirts of the huge gravel roundabout. A water fountain of a huge peacock, with its splayed tail covered in twinkling crystals, crowned the centre.
According to my bodyguard—who got to guard me only if he could chase me down—the owner of this spa was a company named Ember Health. They were newish to the wellness scene, but they’d hosted trial days like this one around the world—doing their best to provide a six-star experience by taking the time required to test their market, request feedback, and create something magical.
This one in particular was being hosted on the grounds of the infamous Cinderkeep estate. Rumoured to be over two thousand acres with natural hot springs, multiple lakes and rivers, and woodlands wild enough for fairy folk to dwell in, it rivalled even the English Crown in wealth and decadence—not that anyone had ever explored the grounds or even gotten past the gate.
Which was yet another reason why I was here.
Privacy and peace.
No responsibilities equalled plenty of time for curiosities, but all I wanted to do when they finally let us inside, was take a cat nap in a puddle of sunshine—preferably by one of those fabled rivers.
“Right, ladies, I’m sure you’re as anxious as we are to begin your weekend. As we stated when you were issued with an invitation, there are only thirty spots available so—”
“Hang on a minute!” A pretty redhead with pink-framed glasses flung up her hand in indignation. “If there’s only thirty spots, why did you bring so many of us?” Turning on the spot, she did a quick count. “I reckon there’s at least eighty or so here. What are you playing at?”
“Yes, you’re quite right.” The man nodded along, slightly condescendingly even if his smile seemed genuine. His thick dark hair greyed at the temples, but his trim physique and pampered skin made him almost ageless. “I apologise for the inconvenience. You are correct that we’ve invited one hundred women to partake in the initial screening—”
“One hundred?” a Chinese girl moaned. “That’s not fair.”
“So only thirty of us get the weekend?” An English girl pouted. “False advertising!”
“You should’ve clearly stated that instead of wasting our time!” A tall woman scrunched up her pink invitation.
“We understand your frustration.” The man nodded with that swarmy smile. “But if you read the fine print on the invites you’re holding, you’ll clearly see that we’re looking for a certain kind of person to provide feedback at this stage.”
Every woman dropped their eyes, scanning the pink paper.
I copied them, flipping over the card and reading:
Thank you for participating in the Ember Wellness Retreat. Please note, this invitation must be validated by a quick questionnaire along with further confidential testing to be conducted on site. Only thirty will be selected.
I sighed.
My chances of getting in were thirty percent and I wasn’t what people called lucky.
Ah, well.
Yawning, I shoved the invite into my jean shorts pocket and stretched. My light grey cable knit kept out most of the English summer chill but after a month in the tropics, I wasn’t exactly warm.
But at least I had nothing else to do, nowhere else to be. The beauty of having no responsibilities, no family, pets, friends, or lovers meant zero stress.
If I got in, great.
If I didn’t, fine.
I’d just mosey on back to London and find a hotel to—
“Well, count me out!” a cross Black woman grumbled. “I’m not interested anymore.”
“To appease your disappointment, you’ll all receive a gift bag with organic skin care and luxury items valued at over five hundred pounds,” the man said. “We’ve also arranged suites at the Waldorf tonight for all those who are unsuccessful.” He grinned, his eyes scanning the sea of women. “All you have to do is help us with some paperwork and then you’ll either be shuttled to the Waldorf or whisked inside Cinderkeep. Sound good?” The man beamed, putting it on a little thick, but...one by one, the women thawed and nodded.
And somehow, I found myself being jostled into an orderly queue, waiting patiently for my turn to answer their mysterious questions.
Chapter Two
“THANK YOU, MS SNOWDEN.” THE HANDSOME young man in a white shirt with very white teeth accepted the clipboard I’d just filled in with my information. We sat beneath a little awning, privacy screens on either side of us, while other women completed their own inquisition.
I yawned again, very ready for that nap.
Sleep was one of my favourite and highly coveted pastimes. I might swap my scenery often—traveling from over-water bungalows on tropical islands to congested foot traffic in smoggy cities—but my habits when I was there never changed.
My main objective was to rest. To avoid stress of any kind. To be as calm and as peaceful as possible. Such zen-like non-reactiveness came from good food, regular relaxation, and a whole heap of freedom to do whatever the hell I wanted at the time of my choosing.
“Are we done?” I asked with a polite smile, my fingers straying to the large crystal raindrop pendant around my neck. My mother had put it on me when I was ten—she’d been almost giddy with excitement, claiming they’d finally found the secret to wellbeing and made me promise never to take it off. I didn’t know what technology Snowflake Corp had stuffed into this piece of jewellery, but I’d kept my promise ever since.
The man grinned, pulling my factsheet off the clipboard and tucking it into a box with other women’s paperwork. “Almost.” Ducking beneath the table, he pulled up a large case that looked suspiciously medical. Unzipping it, he pulled out a small vial that looked like a perfume tester with a silver pad and the tiniest needle at the top.
“If you’ll just place your finger on the top of this please.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”
“It’s to ensure every meal, drink, scent, and treatment is especially keyed to your DNA.” He held my eyes, practically beaming with positivity.
“My DNA?”
He just nodded.
Now, for any normal woman, perhaps DNA wasn’t such a big deal. After all, we all gave it away to those ancestry websites to learn if we had some long-lost Irish roots. However, I’d been created by two people who’d single-handedly changed the scientific world. They’d made advances in cryogenics, played God with immortality, and had patented cold fusion that could rival clean energy or be used as weapons of mass destruction. Not to mention the desalination plants, ice shipping, and freshwater rights they’d been systematically buying worldwide.
So yeah, DNA wasn’t something I was prepared to give.
Especially for a weekend.
Pushing to my feet, I grabbed my well-worn rucksack and slung it onto my shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I’ve changed my mind.”
Turning to leave, I caught the eyes of the man who seemed to be in charge. Greying hair and a pristine black suit made him look almost royal, but the glint in his eyes was purely villainous.
“Are you sure?” The young man who’d been taking my details shot upright. “It’s only a tiny pinprick and—”
“I’m sure.” Smiling politely, I meandered through the milling women who’d already given their metadata and DNA and headed toward the splashing peacock fountain where the three buses waited to take the unselected back into town.
The crunch of polished dress shoes sounded beside me; a tall shadow fell over mine. “It’s a shame you’ve changed your mind.”
I wrenched to a stop, turning to face the man who’d left his post on the stage and now stood a little too close.
Alright, if I wasn’t sure something fishy was going on, now I was.
The only problem was, I was utterly useless when it came to physical confrontation.
Almost on cue, a headache appeared, highly attuned to the smallest of stress. I didn’t want to live my life like this. I would rather be a good person than a pointless one, but every time I tried to do something mildly taxing, I collapsed. Each time I even looked at an email from Snowflake Corp, I blacked out.
And thanks to my pathetic body and its zero anxiety tolerance, this minor headache was a warning sign to remove myself from the situation before it landed me unconscious.
“It’s a shame you think testing someone’s blood is as simple as gathering a phone number.” I braced my spine as the throbbing at the base of my skull got worse.
“Isn’t it, though?” He cocked his head. “How are we any different from those who saliva swab or use biometrics to understand their target market?”
“You can do whatever you want.” I shrugged. “But to me, DNA is a full instruction manual. It’s not protected by any law, which means the moment I give it to you, you can patent it, profit from it, hell, even weaponise it.”
His eyebrows shot up, his suave mask slipping just a little. “Who are you?” Dropping his eyes to the tablet in his hand, he tapped a few windows before somehow finding the factsheet I’d stupidly filled in. “Name, Rook Snowden. Profession, unstated. Age, twenty-two.” His gaze shot to mine. “So young, yet so clued up on things that would bore most young women.”
Luckily, my name would not link me back to Snowflake Corp.
My parents had done that deliberately, ensuring every share and asset was under a pseudonym...Elara Snowflake. I cringed every time I had to use it.
“Thanks for that condescending remark. Have a good day.” Brushing past him, I eyed up the coach bus. I wouldn’t get frustrated over the turn of events, because any day I was alive was a good day, but I had to admit, my spidey senses definitely wanted to leave. Immediately.
He didn’t follow me, but my skin crawled as he never looked away.
He watched me walk over the manicured lawn, the soft voices of the women fading behind me.
Glancing at him over my shoulder, he smiled as our eyes met.
The peacock fountain splashed, urging me to move faster, and I didn’t see the tiny chrome nozzles rising from the grass like snake heads. The sprinklers kicked on in a perfect arch. Water blasted my face in a blinding sheet just as my ancient flip-flops caught one of the nozzles.
I fell.
Off the curb. Onto the gravel driveway.
Throwing out my hands to catch myself, I gasped as the sharp pebbles tore into my palms. Pain zinged hot, then stinging warmth oozed out—bright red blood and glistening.
Great.
“Here. Let me help.” The man crouched beside me, pressing a white handkerchief against my wound too firmly—deliberately deep.
We both knew what he was doing.
We both knew he’d won; that he’d turned on the sprinklers and caused me to fall.
But there was nothing I could do about it, and as my blood seeped through the pristine linen, I tried to yank my hand back, only for him to dig his fingers deeper into my flesh.
We fought our silent war until he’d soaked up enough for whatever tests they were running. Finally, his smirk turned sickly sweet, and he cupped my elbows to help me stand.
Even if I kicked up a fuss, no one would care. No one would understand how a kind gesture like taking care of me felt as dangerous as a knife to my throat.
“There now.” He smiled. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Before I could curse him, another man arrived. “You summoned me, Mr. Ward?”
“Take this.” Not even bothering to look at him, the man passed the bloody handkerchief to him.
“Yes, sir.” The man bowed a little, snatched up the crimson-stained linen, and left us alone.
I shivered as my headache grew worse. “What exactly is this place? Who are you?”
Not bothering to hide himself anymore, the polished professional mask was traded for the gleam of a monster. “If you’re one of the lucky ones, you’ll find out.” He reached to cup my cheek, but I back-pedalled with a snarl.
He merely chuckled. “And my name is Marcus Ward. You’d do well to remember it. Now, excuse me. It’s almost time to tell the lucky women who won. See you soon, Ms. Snowden.”
He turned to leave, but then changed his mind and whispered, “Also, if you have any ideas of running, allow me to remind you of the ten kilometres of driveway you travelled to get to this gatehouse. Let me also remind you of the eight thousand acres that make up this estate, and the fact that if I don’t want you to leave, you won’t.”
And then, he did exactly what I wanted to do.
And left.
