Absolution by Julia Sykes
Published by Julia Sykes Books. Huge thanks to HambrightPR for my gifted ARC.
Let me start by saying this: if your favorite flavor of love is morally gray dipped in jet black, Absolution will ruin you in the most satisfying way. This isn’t a love story—it’s an unapologetic descent into obsession, possession, and control, wrapped up in emotional devastation and a dash of blood. Romantic? Questionable. Addictive? Absolutely.
Absolution is the final book in the Favorite Malady Trilogy, and if you thought Julia Sykes was going to ease us gently into a sweet goodbye? Yeah, think again. This book doesn’t tie things up in a pretty bow. It ties them with zip ties, duct tape, and maybe a blood-stained ribbon. Because that’s the kind of love Dane and Abigail have—it’s not soft, it’s not gentle, and it definitely doesn’t come with a return policy. It’s all in or get buried trying.
The story picks up right where Redemption left us: Dane’s in handcuffs, Abigail is reeling, and the ghosts of their past are ready to party. And by “party,” I mean stalk, gaslight, manipulate, and trigger enough trauma to keep your therapist employed for the rest of your life. Abigail is no longer the scared, trembling girl from book one. She’s a woman now—a woman who walks beside a literal psychopath not because she’s trapped, but because she chooses to.
Dane, on the other hand, remains an absolutely unrepentant monster, but what makes Absolution work is how self-aware he is about it. He knows what he is. He’s not trying to be a better man—he just wants to be her man. And in his twisted, dark-as-midnight way, he succeeds. The scariest part? You kind of get it. You start to root for him, even as you flinch at every violent outburst. Julia Sykes has you questioning your own sanity, and you’ll thank her for it.
Abigail’s growth arc is phenomenal. She doesn’t just survive Dane—she evolves beside him. She matches his darkness with her own light, until they both exist in this weird, co-dependent limbo where love is a weapon and devotion looks a hell of a lot like madness. And honestly? It works. Not in real life—don’t do this at home, kids—but in fiction, in this exquisitely twisted world Julia Sykes has built, it’s perfect.
There’s a particular quote that gutted me and stitched me back up with barbed wire:
“Maybe it’s obsession to the point of madness, but I choose to call this love.”
Yeah. That’s Absolution in a sentence. Love as illness. Love as cure. Love as the thing you choose, even when it makes zero sense to anyone else. It’s romantic only if your idea of romance involves stalking, murder, and BDSM-flavored therapy. And somehow, Julia makes it sing.
Let’s talk spice: it’s hot, it’s intense, and it’s very much part of the psychological power dynamic. This isn’t fluff. It’s control, it’s surrender, it’s two people finding peace in the chaos of each other. The BDSM elements are strong and unapologetic—don’t go into this expecting softness. Expect a lot of kneeling, choking, and emotional wreckage. And yet, it never feels gratuitous. It feels earned. Because by now, you know these characters, and this is how they connect, how they communicate, how they survive.
The pacing is brisk, the tension is constant, and the emotional stakes are sky-high. There were moments I wanted to shake Dane. Moments I wanted to scream at Abigail. But mostly, I just wanted to keep reading. This book does not let go. It grips you, drags you through the dirt, and then whispers, “You liked that, didn’t you?”
If I had one critique, it’s that some of the trauma resolution—especially on Abigail’s end—felt rushed. There’s a lot of weight behind her past, and while we do see her face it, I wanted a bit more breathing room. But I also get it. This isn’t a therapy session. This is a finale. And the focus was always going to be on Dane and Abigail as a unit, not as individual healing projects.
Bottom line? Absolution is toxic, chaotic, violent, and—somehow—deeply romantic in its own feral way. If that makes you uncomfortable, good. It’s supposed to. Julia Sykes doesn’t write for the faint of heart. She writes for the reader who wants to dive headfirst into the moral gray and stay there. And in that regard, this finale absolutely delivers.
Five stars? No. This book is more like four black holes sucking me in against my will. So:
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ (4/5) — not perfect, but damn close for a dark romance finale.
Quote:
“If this is madness, then I don’t want sanity.”