God of Ruin Audiobook – Legacy of Gods, Book 4

I listened to God of Ruin while rain pattered steadily against my Portland apartment windows—a perfectly moody backdrop for Rina Kent’s latest plunge into the shadows of elite academia and dark romance. As someone who gravitates toward audiobooks that grapple with moral gray areas, I found myself immediately drawn into this tangled web of revenge, power, and raw vulnerability.

From the first chapter, what struck me most was how intimately we are allowed into both protagonists’ heads. The dual narration (even if the narrators aren’t credited) is crucial here—it lets us feel every sharp edge and exposed nerve as plans for vengeance evolve into something far more personal and ambiguous. In some ways, it reminded me of my own experiences in competitive environments—where ambition can blur lines between justice and obsession—though thankfully without Landon King’s brand of artistic menace!

The university setting feels almost cinematic: glittering halls masking ruthless social hierarchies, secret alliances forming in shadowed corners. For anyone who has felt like an outsider or nursed old wounds beneath a polished exterior, there’s an immediate resonance here. The protagonist is not simply out for retribution; she’s grappling with trauma and agency on a visceral level. Her complexity is handled deftly—I loved how Kent refuses to flatten her motivations or box her into tired tropes.

Landon King himself is fascinatingly layered: charismatic yet unsettling, creative but cagey about his emotions. His confrontations with the protagonist bristle with psychological intensity; it’s less “will they/won’t they” than “how much damage will their next meeting inflict?” And still—despite moments where I wanted to shake both characters—the push-and-pull kept me rooting for their unlikely redemption.

A major highlight was the audiobook’s delivery of dialogue: each exchange crackles with underlying tension thanks to strong performance choices (even if I wish narrator credits were available). It would be so easy for such brooding material to tip over into melodrama or cliché—but instead, every word lands just right. When softer moments do break through all that darkness—a hesitant confession here, a fleeting brush of kindness—they hit even harder because you’ve spent so long bracing yourself against emotional shrapnel.

That said, this isn’t a flawless listen. There are echoes from previous books in the series—recycled plot beats and familiar character types—which may tire seasoned fans expecting bigger risks or twists. Certain themes around gender dynamics also gave me pause; though Kent generally strives for nuance, some scenes could have interrogated power imbalances more deeply rather than relying on shock value.

Yet overall? God of Ruin succeeds by refusing easy answers—instead reveling in discomforts both internal and external. This isn’t light listening; it asks you to sit with conflicting sympathies and root through your own feelings about loyalty, forgiveness, and identity after betrayal. If you’re drawn to dark romance that values psychological realism alongside smoldering chemistry (and don’t mind walking through stormier terrain), this one should definitely land on your playlist.