Title: One Hundred and Thirty-Six Scars
Series: The Devil's Own, #1
Author: Amo Jones
Genre: MC RomanceRelease
Date: March 17, 2016
I was four years old when I learnt what evilness the world could bring. I fought through life with my scarred soul, wrangled through the dark empty nights where I'd pray I didn't wake up the next morning. I would shut my eyes and mentally take myself to my happy place.
The sound of waves crashing on the sand under my feet.
The final time the cold blade pushed up against my thigh, and I waited for my blood to trickle over the other One hundred and thirty-six scars that covered my skin-- never came. Who was this man who just saved me? He had no idea how close I came to ending myself that day. I was ready to blow my brains all over the bedroom walls and I had a nine sitting under my pillow to prove it.
Some people have families, I had genetically engineered human killing machines surrounding me my whole life. I'd been a part of this unit since I was a baby, raised in a community that was shut off from the real world. A community where we were nothing but machines, until Hella (my best friend) and I escaped. Hella took us to a girl who was in foster care with him before he was summoned into The Army. After finding out yet another complication in my life, I needed space. I booked in to a run down apartment, ready to clear my head. Only my head didn't clear, because I was haunted every night from the screams that would vibrate through my walls.
This is not a story of a perfect man coming in to save the day. This is a story of what happens when fate interferes and two completely broken souls collide.
*Potential triggers lie within this book.
I never thought too much into what I would do the next time I laid my eyes on the dark knight who swept into my life like a bandit of good deeds—my own saving grace. Would I run? Would I pound him with questions that I’m not sure I want to know the answers for? Women would talk of people saving their lives all the time at the meetings I would attend. They’d say things like, “He was a doctor, he saved my life,” or, “The man who saved me, he was the light in my tunnel of darkness.” I couldn’t refer to my encounter as either of those. My knight was not ‘lovely’ nor was he ‘the light in my tunnel of darkness.’ My knight was darkness, and like fighting fire with fire—I fought darkness with darkness.
My name is Meadow, and this is my story.
I knew exactly what I would do the next time—if I ever—saw the girl whose screams would vibrate through the run down walls of my apartment during the night. I never knew if they were screams coming from sleep, or screams tearing out from the awakened. But did it matter? The desperation in those screams pierced me like a sharply angled dagger, my very own personal weakness. Like Wolfsbane was to a werewolf or a stake to a vampire. I live in a world where werewolves and vampires don’t exist—daggers or wolfsbane couldn’t put my demons to rest. Because I don’t just have them, I am them. What I’ve endured, has morphed what could have been an innocent child and successful adult, into a demonic creature that even the people who created it, feared. The darkness has been surrounding me for so long, that it’s now the only way I can see.
This is what happens when fate interferes and two completely broken souls collide.
My name is Beast, or commonly known as Agent 316, and this is my story.
“It’s father’s day tomorrow, so I want all of you to draw a pretty picture of something that reminds you of your dad. Anything at all. It can be what he does for work, what he makes you feel like. Anything. I want to see all your pretty pictures.”
Hmmm, I thought to myself, I wanted to love my daddy. I wanted to know what he’d done for fun. I wanted him to make me happy and cheerful. I’ve seen what other daddies do for their children, but mine didn’t do that. He didn’t throw me into the air then catch me as I came down. He didn’t carry me on his shoulders while taking me out for ice-cream. I thought over what my daddy does and how it made me feel. Taking hold of the black crayon, I began to draw…
“Meadow,” my teacher gasped, her hand slowly moving up to her mouth. She kneeled down beside me, pointing to the picture while still making sure no other children could see it.
“Meadow, honey, what is this that you have drawn here?”
My mouth froze at the look that was pulled over her face. I wanted to tell her what it was, but I was confused. I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong. She asked me to draw a picture of something that reminds me of my father, so I did.
“Did I do it wrong?” I asked my teacher, tears welling behind my sockets.
She squeezed my shoulders, forcing a smile to come out. “No honey, you didn’t do anything wrong.” I relaxed instantly. I didn’t want to do wrong, I wanted to do good. She stood from her position, the picture falling from her fingers, revealing a dark shadow-like figure covering a single bed.
Three years later
Running wasn’t my favorite thing to do, and considering the size of me, I always tried my hardest to stay away from it. But in this case, I had no other way. With my legs heavy and my chest tight, I looked back as the sound of gunshots rang out and pierced through my ears.
“He’s over here! Follow that trail!” one of the sergeants yelled from far behind me. I turned my head back in front of me, carrying on my run. Jumping over the large logs of fallen trees, I dropped behind a boulder that was sitting under a tree, attempting to gather my breath. Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I thought over my options. I can’t go back there. I could never go back there. I should… I told Jada to come but she didn’t listen. She wanted to stay, promising me she wouldn’t say a word. But how do the guards know I’m out? I stood from where I was sitting, placing one foot in front of the other preparing myself to jolt forward.
“Don’t fucking move,” Sergeant Major Kurr’s low, commanding voice rumbled from behind me. I didn’t have to look to know there was also a gun aimed at my back. I’m fucked. That’s it! This was my seventh escape attempt and I’d been caught—again. I knew what was to come. I knew what they were going to do with me when I went back and I’d rather die. Squaring my shoulders while keeping my attention fixed on the large tree in front of me, I kept my eyes trained on the bark that was peeling off it, revealing the glossy white wood underneath.
“Fuck. You,” I replied snarkily with a curled lip.
A single gunshot rang out at the exact moment a sharp, heavy sting collided into my leg, causing me to drop to the ground in agony. I was hoping they would at least shoot me in the head, getting it over with faster.
“Pick him up!” Kurr demanded, aiming his Heckler & Koch FABARM FP6 into my face with a smirk.
Tsking, he knelt down beside me. “Agent 316, what are we going to do with you this time?”
My eyes squeezed shut as tears pricked from the side of them. No, no, please. I don’t want to go back there. “Just kill me!” I screamed from the dirt and blood covered ground. “Fucking kill me!” I roared one last time. A steel capped military boot was lifted over my face as the bottom stomped down and connected with my cheek with a crack, knocking me out cold.
I don’t fear death. Oh no, I welcomed it. After living in this world all my life, being engineered for an undercover operation like The Army that was branched off by our government, I had no choice but to run and maybe one day, I’d make it out alive.
Amo is a full-time writer from New Zealand who loves long romantic walks to the wine cellar.
When she's not creating magic, you can usually find her relaxing in front of the television watching the latest episode of Supernatural or Vikings. (This will be updated as she finds new television shows with hot actors.)
She's the proud mother of four little critters who are the reason she breathes, but also the reason she drinks.
She's the wife-to-be to the love of her life. She says wife-to-be because she scares him a little, and he still hasn't decided whether he wants to wed her or not. Such an exciting relationship.
She loves meeting new people and believes the world needs more kindness.
Gas Arc out!