Blagica Jankuloska
Dark Potential
The first thing that caught my eye with this book was its cover. It gave me Criminal Minds vibes, and as the new season is almost done, I needed something to fill that gap for me—and this was a great way to spend a few hours.
This was my first read by Steve Cornwell, and while it didn’t blow the doors off, the premise is wickedly smart: a serial killer who never touches the crime scenes, never spills a drop of blood himself. Instead, he stalks the internet, finding the broken, the desperate, the disposable—and turns them into weapons. It’s manipulation at its coldest. The true crime influences (Bundy, especially) give it a chilling realism that lingers long after the chapter ends.
The beginning was slow, almost deceptively so, like the calm before something awful. But once the story hit its stride, it moved with a nasty kind of momentum. You don’t even realize how deep you’re in until it’s too late. For a 7-hour audiobook, it felt closer to five.
Ethan and Abbey’s relationship was a rare flicker of humanity in the dark—messy, honest, and necessary. Without them, the story might have felt too detached, too clinical.
Still, as much as I admired the setup, I kept waiting for it to get uglier. More vicious. It scratched the surface of dread but never went deep enough to make me squirm. I read a lot of dark thrillers, so maybe my threshold’s high—but I wanted scenes that made me feel complicit, scenes I’d want to look away from. It hovered just below that line.
Gareth Richards, the narrator, has a clean, controlled delivery, and he handles the material well. But this kind of story begs for something colder, sharper—maybe a dual narration or a voice that can twist, charm, and then snap. There were moments that needed more bite, more fear, more breathless tension.
The ending came quick—too quick. It felt like hitting a wall in the dark. I’m hoping this isn’t a standalone, because there’s definitely more to mine here. More darkness. More blood.
3.5 stars. But with potential to go darker—and better.
Dark Potential
The first thing that caught my eye with this book was its cover. It gave me Criminal Minds vibes, and as the new season is almost done, I needed something to fill that gap for me—and this was a great way to spend a few hours.
This was my first read by Steve Cornwell, and while it didn’t blow the doors off, the premise is wickedly smart: a serial killer who never touches the crime scenes, never spills a drop of blood himself. Instead, he stalks the internet, finding the broken, the desperate, the disposable—and turns them into weapons. It’s manipulation at its coldest. The true crime influences (Bundy, especially) give it a chilling realism that lingers long after the chapter ends.
The beginning was slow, almost deceptively so, like the calm before something awful. But once the story hit its stride, it moved with a nasty kind of momentum. You don’t even realize how deep you’re in until it’s too late. For a 7-hour audiobook, it felt closer to five.
Ethan and Abbey’s relationship was a rare flicker of humanity in the dark—messy, honest, and necessary. Without them, the story might have felt too detached, too clinical.
Still, as much as I admired the setup, I kept waiting for it to get uglier. More vicious. It scratched the surface of dread but never went deep enough to make me squirm. I read a lot of dark thrillers, so maybe my threshold’s high—but I wanted scenes that made me feel complicit, scenes I’d want to look away from. It hovered just below that line.
Gareth Richards, the narrator, has a clean, controlled delivery, and he handles the material well. But this kind of story begs for something colder, sharper—maybe a dual narration or a voice that can twist, charm, and then snap. There were moments that needed more bite, more fear, more breathless tension.
The ending came quick—too quick. It felt like hitting a wall in the dark. I’m hoping this isn’t a standalone, because there’s definitely more to mine here. More darkness. More blood.
3.5 stars. But with potential to go darker—and better.