I'm somewhere between 3.5-4 ⭐️ (gladly rounding up to 4 for the audiobook performance)
There’s something about dystopias that never fails to scratch the part of my brain that loves to dissect power structures, and this one delivers plenty to chew on. The world is grim, violent, and unapologetically misogynistic, the kind of setting where women’s worth is reduced to their utility, but also where women are even crueller, when in power. It’s uncomfortable, but intentionally so.
Our protagonist, Bones, is a healer. Which, in this world, makes her both highly valuable and endangered. She’s no damsel in distress, though. Her strength isn’t the loud kind—it’s the kind that simmers beneath exhaustion, the kind that refuses to break even when her gift is weaponised against her. She’s dragged into a compound led by a cruel, power-drunk woman, forced to use her healing abilities not to save but to torture.
Bones is sharp, scarred, and unbreakable in that quiet, exhausted way that makes you want to protect her—not because she’s fragile, but because she’s endured too much already. I didn’t want her to soften. I didn’t want her to trust. I wanted her to survive. And even when she made frustrating choices, I understood them. That’s the mark of good character writing....when frustration comes from empathy, not disbelief. And Speer delivered here.
The side characters are what make this story stand out! Sam and Griz completely stole my heart. Sam’s arc in particular was stunning—shocking in places, but brilliantly done. Trey (my love) and Mac were both strong presences, and my heart truly broke for Clare Bear… in more ways than one. Then there's my fierce little Apple! I adored her. I was genuinely terrified for the kids in the compound, which says a lot about how grounded and human these characters feel. Every one of them has dimension, purpose, and emotional weight. They offer rare moments of warmth, gallows humour, fleeting levity, the kind of connection that feels stolen from a collapsing world. But Bones remains the heart of it all: enigmatic, dangerous, and deeply human, carrying an emotional weight that might have benefitted from unravelling just a little earlier.
Because here's my main gripe: The book itself walks a fine line between fascinating and frustrating. It’s raw, emotional, and tense, but also occasionally repetitive. The pacing limps through the middle, looping through horror and survival, until it starts to lose its edge. You sense the author reaching for depth through trauma, found family, and a painfully slow-burn romance, but every so often it feels like the story gets lost in its own suffering. There's a lot of healing, sleeping, healing, sleeping, and healing ...again.
Another issue was the world-building. You’re thrown straight into the chaos with little exposition, which at first feels disorienting. This isn’t the kind of dystopia that pauses to explain itself; it simply exists—harsh and functional. I wonder whether this was done on purpose and if book 2 will build on it.
Still, the audiobook performance makes up for a lot. The narrator breathes life and urgency into the text, pulling out every layer of emotion the prose sometimes only hints at. What might have been a draining read becomes something magnetic—dangerous, raw, and strangely intimate.
This book and the series have a lot of potential. Book 1 ends on such a strong note (and a huge cliffy) that you can't help but want to jump into the next book.
*I received an ALC through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. Receiving the ALC had no influence on my review or rating.