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 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 empty vessels, 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.
** This book is gritty and contains dark content.
They say there are defining points in your life – moments where you f**ked it all up, moments that make you its bitch, moments that shape you into the person you are.
The day I met Braxton Ward was one of my moments.
My name’s Melissa Hart, and I don’t think you’re ready for this story.
I go by a few names: Hella, Brax, 112, or, depending on whether I’ve been balls deep in you or not, C*nt. I don’t push the boundaries because in order to do so, one must have them. I’ve never had them. Being homeless at the not-so-tender age of fifteen morphed me into an emotionless shell, and when The Army recruited me, that shell turned into steel.
They say if fire is hot enough, it can melt steel; the hate that burns between Melissa Hart and me just might be hot enough.
Shit doesn’t come easy for us. Enemies are expanded, secrets are revealed, and lives will be taken. Yeah, I’m Braxton “Hella” Ward, and you bet your f*cking ass that you ain’t ready for this story.
I was light, and I was pure. Until I wasn’t.
I’m Millie Hart, and for as long as I can remember, I’ve dedicated my life to my Catholic faith. It was a part of me every step of the way. So when I decided to join a nunnery, no one in my family was surprised. I’m not sure at what point my life changed or where it went extremely wrong. My nightmares are becoming realities as my world starts to slowly tremble under the ground I’m presently shackled to. I was taken. Everything I thought I knew was about to rain down on me in drops of lies, deceit, and undiluted evil.
I’m more machine than man. I’m the alpha and the omega of The Army, and the leader of The 6 masked huntsmen. I live and bleed this life. The arms that raised me weren’t carrying love— they were carrying knives and AKAs. I’m agent 000, the executioner, and the damn devil who walks in the flesh. No one can break through my hard shell— not even her.
Can something that burns so rapidly calm the whispering chaos of your cries?
Or is this all just an illusion. The perfect hypnosis. Like the humming of a sweet melody to your frantic brain.
Blood trickled over the curve of Millie’s collarbone.
Slithering over her shoulder.
Sliding off and into the mass puddle of death surrounding her.
The last petal has fallen, a queen is born, and the disarray of her world is about to shatter under her very throne.
“She knows too much…”
A person suffering from chronic mental disorder with abnormal or violent social behaviour.
synonyms: madman/madwoman, mad person, deranged person, maniac, lunatic, psychotic, sociopath
an unstable and aggressive person.
F R O S T
Since I was a little girl, I have been surrounded by hate, death, murder, and slavery. I’ve been guarded my whole life by my brother—Raze, the kingpin of the underworld and the most feared individual in the United States of America. And then further more guarded when I found out the president of The Devil’s Own MC was my long lost half-brother. Being tossed around from one extreme protection to another has left a part of me yearning to break out of it's cage. The part that I've tried to sugar coat and hide, because if she's unleashed, everyone would see just how much like my brothers I am.
Panting, wanting, needing to unleash the side of me I’ve always known was there.
My secret is mine.
No one knows what I hide or why I hide it. How I fight for love because if I didn’t, my rage would win and I’d be a mere shadow of the girl they’ve grown to know.
But I broke.
And the man who held the hammer that shattered the walls I spent years building to cage in my rage—was a psychopath