Audiobook by Unknown

I listened to “God of Wrath” on a moody, rain-soaked afternoon—the kind that wraps Portland in an endless gray and seems perfect for sinking into dark, twisting stories. From the first chapter, Rina Kent’s prose swept me away into a world where power is both weapon and seduction, and survival means mastering your own fears. As someone who’s spent years working with young adults, I found myself both worried for—and fascinated by—the unnamed heroine as she’s pulled under by Jeremy Volkov’s dangerous orbit.

What truly set this audiobook apart was how closely I felt the protagonist’s emotions—her trembling uncertainty at every decision, the way longing and revulsion tangled together inside her. The narrative voice (though the narrator isn’t credited) captured all this inner conflict so vividly; every sharp breath and low-throated threat seemed to echo right through my headphones. In lesser hands, these kinds of dark mafia romances can become shallow or even sensationalized. But here, Kent crafts characters who are hauntingly human despite their flaws: Jeremy is terrifying but also magnetic in his pain; our heroine makes choices born out of desperation but never loses her dignity or spark.

The enemies-to-lovers tension simmers throughout—a constant push-and-pull that left me breathless more than once. There were moments I caught myself clutching my mug tighter during especially fraught scenes or even pausing to reflect on how power dynamics play out in real life: How often do we blur boundaries out of fear? How do we reclaim ourselves when our choices feel narrowed by circumstance?

Kent doesn’t shy away from taboo topics—violence, obsession, and consent are explored without apology or sugar-coating—and there were times I found myself needing breaks to process what had just unfolded. Still, it was hard not to admire the boldness here; few romance authors walk such a razor-thin line between discomfort and desire so skillfully.

On the downside: If you’re looking for traditional romance tropes or light-hearted banter, this might not be your cup of tea. Some readers may find parts too dark—there are vivid depictions of violence and some scenes involving dubious consent that may trigger sensitive listeners (and honestly made me deeply uncomfortable at points). Yet I appreciated Kent’s warning upfront; it gave me space to decide if this journey was right for me.

As far as narration goes—even without knowing their name—the performance felt immersive enough that every character distinction rang clear: Jeremy’s icy command sent shivers down my spine while softer moments glimmered with vulnerability beneath all the grit. That said, having dual narration could have added another layer to experiencing both protagonists’ perspectives more directly.

In short: “God of Wrath” delivers exactly what its title promises—a tempestuous ride through love twisted up with vengeance and longing—and is best approached with eyes wide open (and maybe some self-care waiting afterward). For those who crave complex anti-heroes and emotional intensity pushed past comfort zones, it might just linger long after you press pause—as it did for me.