Kika Hatzopoulou

“Dripping with atmosphere and edged with danger, Threads That Bind weaves together a gorgeous dark tapestry of mystery, fated romance, and modern myth. You won’t be able to put this one down.” —Alexandra Bracken, New York Times bestselling author of Lore In a world where the children of the gods inherit their powers, a descendant of the Greek Fates must solve a series of impossible murders to save her sisters, her soulmate, and her city, for fans of Song of Achilles. Descendants of the Fates are always born in threes: one to weave, one to draw, and one to cut the threads that connect people to the things they love and to life itself. The Ora sisters are no exception. Io, the youngest, uses her Fate-born abilities as a private investigator in the half-sunken city of Alante. But her latest job leads her to a horrific discovery: somebody is abducting women, maiming their life-threads, and setting the resulting wraiths loose in the city to kill. To find the culprit, she must work alongside Edei Rhuna, the right hand of the infamous Mob Queen—and the boy with whom she shares a rare fate-thread linking them as soul mates before they’ve even met. The investigation turns personal when Io's estranged oldest sister shows up on the arm of her best suspect. Amid unveiled secrets from her past and her growing feelings for Edei, Io must follow clues through the city’s darkest corners and unearth a conspiracy that involves some of the city’s most powerful players before destruction comes to her own doorstep.

Threads That Bind

She and her lovely unknown were celestial objects orbiting ever closer, destined for an inevitable collision.

“Listen,” he said, “if it’s any worth, I understand. There is violence in kindness, and kindness in violence.”

Gods, how she hated herself in moments like this, where fear was all she was. No reason, no strength, just mind-numbing, all-consuming fear.

To assume they let it happen was to make them responsible for a system that was rotten long before they ever came along.

She really was a weirdo. She was Smitten, capital S, neon sign, symphonic orchestra playing in the background.

“Listen, I wanted to tell you earlier that, um. I think you’re right. About tolerating violence being a violence in itself.”

“Discussing the future like it’s something concrete, like our fates are inescapable, theirs to decipher like pages in a worn, weathered book. Destiny robs us of choice, and I can’t live like that. I won’t.”

Three bodies, one soul. When your sisters need you, you go. No questions asked.

Their life had been hard, but whose wasn’t? And life could be hard and happy at the same time, couldn’t it?

Such was the language of sisters: a whole conversation carried in looks.

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