Daemon Grudge

I’ll admit, I went into *Daemon Grudge* expecting another *‘plucky underdog vs. evil corporation’* trope—maybe with some demonic window dressing. Instead, Brutger handed me a story that’s equal parts *Black Hawk Down* and *Hellraiser*, where the real horror isn’t the monsters but the cold calculus of the people who summon them. Octavia isn’t a wide-eyed idealist; she’s a soldier who’s been broken *just enough* to weaponize her own trauma, and watching her navigate the fallout of her choices—especially the demonic bargain at the story’s core—is like watching someone light a fuse while standing in a pool of gasoline. It’s *uncomfortable*, and that’s the point. Eva Wilhelm’s performance sells every bit of it. She nails Octavia’s military cadence—the clipped sentences, the way orders become reflex—but where she *shines* is in the moments when that discipline fractures. There’s a scene mid-book where Octavia negotiates with a demon, and Wilhelm’s voice drops into this guttural, almost *wet* register that made me check my lock screen to confirm I wasn’t listening to a horror audiobook. My only critique? The pacing stumbles slightly in the second act, where the political intrigue feels a beat too drawn-out compared to the breakneck opening and the explosive finale. And while the demon lore is fresh, I wished for a touch more worldbuilding around the *rules* of the supernatural—some moments rely a little too much on ‘because magic’ when the rest of the book is so grounded. But these are quibbles. The production quality is flawless (no jarring edits or volume spikes), and the story’s final act delivers a payoff that’s as emotionally brutal as it is satisfying. If you like your romance subplots *dark*—think ‘love as a last resort in a burning world’—and your heroines more antihero than angel, this one’s for you. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you about the body count—or the moral one.