Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

N oel

A peal of thunder cracked across the ominous night sky, a clear indication the horrific storm was making its final approach.

I shifted against the building, trying to catch my breath and secure my bearings. I'd managed to escape, fighting the weakness and nausea from the sedatives the monster had used. But every limb was heavy, every step I took as if doing so in quicksand. It was dark. Why did it have to be so dark? As the first drops of rain hit my face, I relished the stinging sensations, my skin little more than mottled bruises.

After finally catching my breath, I scanned the vast area, searching desperately for any hint of light, praying someone could help me. There was nothing. No people milling the empty street, no sounds of laughter or anything indicating there was other life.

Than him.

The embodiment of evil.

I closed my eyes, my entire body trembling. Hot tears trickled down my face, seconds later turning into racking sobs. Horrified, I slapped my hand across my mouth, fearful he'd hear me. I had to fight, to flee the horrible prison, but I was fearful I had nothing left to give. More determined, I wiped my face with my filthy hands and scooted to the corner of the building, darting my head toward the street.

The place was a deserted town, its buildings housing only members of the homeless. Almost everywhere I looked there was trash and other debris, most facilities dilapidated as if they'd been abandoned for some time.

The place and the horrific night were a carbon copy of… no. I couldn't go down that wretched road or I'd never manage to escape and this was my one chance.

Seeing no one, I ventured out further, careful with my steps as I headed to what I was certain was a dense forest. I remembered bits and pieces of being brought here, the sedative not strong enough to do anything but keep my mind fuzzy and my muscles too weak to fight.

I took another few gulps of air before dashing across what had to be an alley, giving myself a mental high five when I made it to the other side. My entire body ached, the lack of food and constant beatings taking a toll on every muscle.

As well as my mind.

You can do this. You can do this. Go. Go. Go.

I glanced all around me again, doing everything I could not to dry heave. There was nothing of any substance in my stomach, food a distant memory. At least other than bread and water. I rubbed my wrists, the thick coil I'd broken free from leaving a wound that was itching from the dried blood. A part of me just wanted to accept my fate. That the bastard was going to kill me. But his plans were sick, repulsive. He was using women for something. What? Body parts? Draining their blood?

I'd conjured up so many stories, so many horrors.

I waited, still listening. Still praying. I could see the forest. The trees were real.

Just like in one of my stories.

My God, the bastard had recreated one of my books. I hadn't realized what he'd done, the lengths he'd gone to until I scanned the deserted street. Sadly, in my book, none of the victims managed to get away. Time to change the ending. With a solid boost of adrenaline, I finally decided I was ready to do this.

But I heard a metallic scrape and froze, sucking in and holding my breath.

And a whistle, a melodic tune that I knew far too well.

He's coming. Run. Run!

It was the same one he used every time he stomped downstairs into the basement where I'd been kept for days, maybe weeks. There was no night, no day. No light, just darkness and cold.

I could swear even now I could hear his footsteps on the rickety wooden stairs.

Heavy thumps.

I'd never seen his face, but I knew he was huge, very muscular.

I pressed my body against the cracked brick, trying to find an alternative way of escaping. The whistling continued, a happy tune of a kid's nursery rhyme that had already dulled my senses. I slapped my hands over my ears, trying desperately to drown it out. Another wave of tears and anguish rushed through me.

If I didn't run now, he'd win. He'd fucking win.

Do it. Do it. Run. Run!

I took off sprinting, doing everything I could to keep from shrieking. Even if there was someone here, they wouldn't help me. They'd never go against the Claw. I ran hard and fast, even though my bare feet were bruised and bloody. Rocks penetrated my skin, the pain blinding. But I continued. I had to. Going back wasn't an option. I knew what horrors he'd inflict, the agony that would go on for hours.

I noticed something reflected in the single dingy streetlight still working and carefully headed toward it. It was a metal bar of some kind. A weapon. Oh, dear God. I'd been lucky enough to find a weapon. Snatching it, the cold metal felt solid in my hand, like the only lifeline I might find. No one knew I was here. I wondered if anyone was even looking for me.

The rain began to fall in torrents. Within seconds I was drenched but nothing would stop me. Nothing. I was almost gleeful when I noticed I was close to the forest. If I could reach the safety of the trees, I had a chance. One chance. A stitch formed in my side and I had to stop and catch my breath.

Go. Go. Now.

I followed my little voice, rushing forward.

And straight into the arms of my captor.

My eyes snapped open as I was jerked from restless sleep. My conscience had pushed me to awaken, protecting me against the horrific images as it had done so many times before. I jerked up, making a terrified sound like that of an injured animal. The images had been so real, more so than usual. Why? Why couldn't I let them go?

So many years had gone by, enough that I should be over the paralyzing fear, but it wasn't happening. What was wrong with me?

Even now, I played out how I'd managed to escape his grip, using the metal prod as a knife, jamming into his face and neck several times.

Only he hadn't died.

I scanned my bedroom, hating the darkness even more. As I quickly fumbled to turn on a light, I heard a rumble of thunder and almost toppled the lamp. A slight shriek erupted and I was certain the boogeyman would leap from the shadows.

As warm light flooded the room, I yanked the covers up to my shoulders, still whimpering. There was nothing there. No monster. No villain. There never was. My brain remained fuzzy and I dropped my head into my hands, allowing the sobs to consume me tonight.

I thought I'd gotten better, that I could handle living and being very much alone. But nothing was okay any longer.

The bastard had won.

He'd won.

Just like he'd promised to do.

Florence supermax prison

Kage

Some experts said monsters were made, not inherently evil.

They were fools.

The bastards I'd spent years with were pure demons, the worst of mankind. Not that I was too far removed but at least I believed I still had a conscience.

Not these fuckheads.

As I snatched a towel from the prison attendant, I almost laughed seeing how threadbare the clinically white mistake for terrycloth was. Budget cuts. So I'd heard. The truth was that no one gave a shit about the monsters left to die in the only supermax prison in the United States. We were considered the worst of the worst.

Here I was, a former decorated Marine.

That had been a lifetime ago. I was no longer that man.

As I sauntered into the group shower, I knew instantly this morning was that day, the one most inmates dreaded. There were gangs inside the prison walls, affiliations with powerful outside organizations and crime syndicates. The guards, although highly trained, could do nothing to stop the beatings.

Or the bloodshed.

I'd been labeled a killer, taking out the son of the man I'd worked for, which was a fucking lie. I'd taken the fall out of loyalty instead. But it didn't matter now any more than it had then. The fucking prosecutor had needed a win, especially over a brutal cartel.

So here I was, a caged animal with no rights. If I said a goddamn thing in my defense, my tongue would be cut out as a first strike. The rest would be worse. I had no real affiliation inside the joint, although there wasn't a soul who didn't have a clue who I was and where I'd come from.

Those had been the only details they'd gotten correct.

I was considered dangerous, unstable. It was best for the other thugs to think that way. My deranged and brutal actions were the sole reason they'd mostly left me alone. That and the fact I'd crushed two hands, broken six arms, and damaged a fucking kidney since I'd been here. But I sensed everything about this morning was different.

I calmly walked to the shower, tossing my towel before standing under the barely lukewarm water. At least the shit was clear, not brown today. As I grabbed the soap, I noticed two soldiers from a Russian Bratva huddled in the corner. Leave it to the Russians to try to take me out. They'd soon learn the error of their ways.

I found it interesting that so many attempts had been made by different cartels or soldiers from other mafia families. Pick a nationality and they'd attempted. When would they learn?

It wasn't long before other inmates inside the shower were backing away. While I acted as if I wasn't paying any attention, the truth was far from it. As a former Black Ops member, I'd learned stealth in my sleep, and had the keenest observation skills of anyone I knew. The bastards wouldn't realize they'd found themselves in a snake pit of sorts until it was too late.

As usual, the assholes were cocky, as so many of the lifers were. I waited until the right moment, when the Russians had flanked either side before attacking. I didn't need to carve shanks from spoons inside the joint. My fists and techniques had been turned into deadly weapons.

Without hesitation, I attacked. There was nothing more joyful in this bleak world than hearing the sounds of bones crunching. I threw my palm around one soldier's fist, crushing it between my fingers as I kicked the crude rusty knife from the other's hand. As the first guy howled, I kicked him against the cinder block wall and started in on the other guy. Issuing punch after punch, within seconds the guy's face was unrecognizable.

The first guy tried to come back strong, but he was no boxer. I spun around, kicking him hard in the gut then issuing a final blow to the second dude, watching in sheer glee as he slowly dropped to the shower floor.

When I snapped my head back to the first guy, I was rewarded with seeing fear in his eyes. That wasn't enough for me. He swung a futile punch and I caught his hand in mine, bending his arm at an awkward angle. The final snap forced the other inmates to gasp.

Before they started cheering.

What a fucking game. There were no guards in sight. They'd likely been paid well to allow this shit to go down. The way of the world, and the prison had a certain ruling system of its own. I doubted anyone close to the prison hadn't been corrupted.

I took my time rinsing off the blood before grabbing my towel and heading out.

More time in solitary confinement.

So the fuck what?