DEFIANT

  Contents

  BELLA J.

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  1. Alyx

  2. Granite

  3. Alyx

  4. Granite

  5. Alyx

  6. Granite

  7. Alyx

  8. Alyx

  9. Granite

  10. Granite

  11. Granite

  12. Alyx

  13. Granite

  14. Alyx

  15. Alyx

  16. Granite

  17. Granite

  18. Alyx

  19. Granite

  20. Alyx

  21. Alyx

  Epilogue

  OTHER NOVELS by BELLA J

  About the Author

  BELLA J.

  Copyright ©2019 by Bella J

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual living or dead person, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  Author’s Note

  Defiant is the 2nd book in the American Street Kings Series.

  If you haven’t yet read Depraved, you can grab your copy here.

  This is a dark MC novel that contains scenes that might offend sensitive readers.

  Are you ready?

  Acknowledgments

  Editor: Lori Whitwam

  Cover Design by Clarise Tan, CT Cover Creations

  This one is for all the readers who fell hopelessly

  in love with these characters.

  XOXO

  Prologue

  Alyx

  I lost track of time. Amazing how time no longer existed the moment you decided to not care about anything anymore. When your mind was vacant and your body numb, time lost its hold on you. Not even the tick of the clock could keep you anchored, stopping you from drifting away into the void of nothingness, a place where minutes felt like seconds, and seconds felt like hours. Days passed without a sun or a moon, without a beginning or an end, just like the hell I had stumbled into. There was no past, no present, and no future. There was only this, a state of mindlessness where nothing mattered anymore.

  It no longer mattered that I had been under the devil’s spell for so long.

  It no longer mattered that I allowed the devil to seduce me.

  It no longer mattered that the devil let a life bleed out because of me.

  Nothing. Mattered.

  Every breath I took no longer mattered.

  Every beat of my heart no longer mattered.

  Nothing. Mattered. Not even him. Especially him.

  1

  Alyx

  My eyes fluttered, wanting to open, but I willed them not to. The pain was too much. I could feel it burn all the way through my spine, my skin slowly turning to ash.

  I had no idea where I was, and I didn’t care. All I remembered was being scooped up from the floor by the cold arms of the devil, then carried out while the world around me blurred with my own tears.

  I didn’t feel anything. The last time I looked into the green eyes of the devil, it was also the last time I felt something. It was his words that paralyzed me, killing everything I needed to feel human. While he carried me, the icy chill of his presence spread throughout my body. But he no longer scared me. Burning in hell with him no longer frightened me. Maybe I deserved the flames. Maybe I deserved to be turned into nothing but ash. A life was lost because of me, because of the devil’s obsession with me. Maybe my life should have been lost as well, a way to atone for what my existence had caused. It would only be fair.

  But fair no longer mattered.

  My eyelids twitched, and the urge to open them was stronger than before. The flames burning my skin went from searing to raging, and my body felt heavy, as if gravity was trying to pull me toward it, twisting and yanking, yet I couldn’t move.

  Everything ached. There was so much pain I couldn’t pinpoint where it stemmed from. It was everywhere, penetrating deep into the marrow of my bones.

  Something wet trickled from the corner of my eye and down my nose until it disappeared. Was that a tear? Was I crying?

  Finally, the urge to open my eyes proved too strong, so I opened them. At first, everything was blurry, hazy, one bright sight of white. But when I tried to wipe my eyes, I couldn’t move my arm. Every limb felt like dead weight, the pain becoming stronger by the second.

  I moved my lips, wanting to ask where I was, but my mouth was taped shut. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t move. What the hell was happening? All I managed were a few moaning sounds vibrating up my throat.

  A few blinks later, my vision became clearer, but I still couldn’t figure out what was going on. Then I noticed a bright pool of crimson below me. Blood. My blood. I could see drops dripping down from where I was, joining the pool on the floor.

  Oh, God.

  I lifted my head, but I couldn’t see behind me. Something was keeping me trapped, making it almost impossible to move.

  Desperate to figure out what was going on, I moved my head from side to side. But everything was white. The walls, the floor. The only color was that of the blood on the tiles.

  I wanted to scream but made nothing but muffled noises.

  “There she is.”

  The voice startled me, my body numb except for the pain still burning across my flesh.

  I jerked my head back and forth, trying to find the voice. Something rattled above me, a clanging noise of complaining chains. Jesus Christ. Where the fuck was I?

  “You seem comfortable up there…ballerina girl.”

  Oh, my God. I didn’t recognize the voice. Where was I? Who took me?

  Fear gripped my spine, panic penetrating deep into the pit of my stomach. What did he mean with “up there?” What was happening?

  Desperate and afraid, I turned my head as far as I could…until I caught a glimpse of a glinting chain hanging down from the ceiling right above me. Horror sent a shockwave of agony through my entire body, and I yanked forward, only to be pulled back by the worst pain I had ever experienced in my life. It stabbed into my back, shooting through every nerve as if a flame had been set alight inside me. It was excruciating, and I screamed. But the sound merely slammed against the tape across my mouth.

  “What’s the matter, ballerina girl? You don’t like hanging from the ceiling? I think you look beautiful up there.”

  Tears streamed down my face, dripping off my cheeks to join the pool of blood on the floor. I hung my head, and I could see my arms dangling, streaks of blood trickling down my skin…my hands…my fingers. Jesus, my fingers.

  I moved my hand, opening my palm, and when I saw the gaping hole where my forefinger was supposed to be, terror slammed against my throat, and I couldn’t breathe. The raw ache of open flesh tore up my arm, and I could hear my heartbeat inside my head, throbbing pulses of pain violently zapping through me.

  When my gaze dropped to the floor, I could see my severed finger surrounded by and covered with blood.

  “It’s only fair for you to lose a finger since your friend suffered through the same.”

  Again, I tried to look around, to see where the voice came from. But the more I tried to move, the stronger the pain became.

  “God, you look exquisite up there. Like a swan.” A manic laugh filled the empty hollows in the room. “Swan Lake.”

  The blood in my veins froze.

  Swan Lake.

  Neon.

  “Please,” I tried to beg through my shut lips. “Please stop.”

  It was only instinct for me to try to move, to get away. But as I jerked to the side, my skin exploded with blaz
ing agony.

  “Careful. You don’t want those hooks to tear through your flesh. You’ll never get rid of the scars then.”

  Hooks?

  Flesh?

  Oh, my God. I was hanging from the ceiling with hooks pierced through my flesh…just like her. Like Neon.

  No. No. No. No.

  The fear that dug its claws into my stomach caused bile to rush up my throat and into my mouth. But I couldn’t spit it out. I couldn’t vomit because my lips were taped shut.

  Jesus. I had to swallow it again. I had to swallow my own vomit, and it was vile, bitter and burning as it went back down my throat and up my nose. I could smell the sour stench, and then I felt the warmth of my own urine moving down my legs.

  “Oh, poor ballerina girl. You pissed yourself. Is it scary? Is it horrifying to know you have iron hooks cut through your skin, digging into your flesh?”

  At that moment, all I wanted to do was scream his name. I wanted to call out to him. I wanted to beg him to come and save me.

  Granite. Help me!

  But I couldn’t. I couldn’t cry for him to find me, to take away my pain. It made everything a hundred times worse knowing Granite couldn’t come for me. He couldn’t save me.

  Not this time.

  “Tell me, ballerina girl”—movement caught my eye, the figure of a man approaching—“how does that pussy of yours feel?”

  My eyes widened as the man got closer.

  “I have to admit, it was fun.”

  What was fun?

  “It was fun fucking you while your body was limp and unresponsive.”

  Oh, God, no.

  He disappeared from my field of view, and I knew he was behind me. I wanted to move my head. I wanted to be able to see him, to know what he was going to do. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t get my head to move that far without it feeling like my skin was being torn off.

  “A part of me wishes you were conscious so you could remember what it feels like to have my dick inside you. Will this perhaps trigger your memory?” I felt his hand cup between my legs, and I wept while his touch tortured me further. “Or maybe this?” He forced a finger inside me, and I wailed against my shut lips.

  “Please. Stop.” I wanted to beg, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t even move my body to try to get away from him. All I could do was remain still while he deviled my body with his touch. It ached. It ached everywhere. The way he so easily slipped his fingers into me, and I had no choice but to let him, was worse than the pain dripping from my body into the pool of blood beneath me.

  “Are those tears for me, ballerina girl?” His finger slipped out of me, and I continued to sob. “I can promise you, you weren’t crying when I fucked you.”

  One final step, and he came close enough for me to see him. But his face was…dear God, his face. It was one horrifying canvas of mutilated flesh. A monster.

  What looked like bloody and raw skin moved into a smile that was fit for the devil.

  “Don’t worry, ballerina girl. I didn’t hurt that sweet pussy of yours. It was already wrecked when I slipped my dick inside you. He already ruined you.”

  I pinched my eyes closed because I couldn’t stand looking at his face. Tears flooded down my cheeks, and the chains clanged as my body shook violently. I trembled while my insides were tightly bound with barbed wire, slicing and cutting everything in its path. I cried, and the muffled sobs echoed from my chest, vibrating up my throat and into my mouth.

  “Aw. Does the pretty ballerina girl want to scream? Here,” he ripped the tape off my mouth with one violent yank, “let me here you scream.”

  And then I did. I screamed. I screamed so loud I was sure it made my ears bleed.

  I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop crying, screeching until I tasted my own blood.

  “Please! Help me!”

  “Granite!”

  The man’s maniacal laugh penetrated my screams, until…

  Until…

  “Alyx?”

  My name sounded like a curse on the devil’s lips. It was him.

  “Alyx?”

  Get away from me.

  “Alyx. Jesus, wake up!”

  I opened my eyes, and for a brief moment, I was still there hanging from the ceiling. All I could do was swing my arms and ball my fists, crying and screaming while desperately trying to fight.

  “Alyx! Stop. Stop. It’s okay.”

  I screamed again.

  “Alyx! It’s me. It’s me…Onyx.”

  I opened my eyes and looked right at the familiar face. Onyx grabbed my wrists and pulled me toward him, wrapping his arms tightly around me.

  “Jesus, Alyx. It’s okay.”

  The relief that flowed over me was indescribable. It was like water over dry sand, and I soaked it all up right before sobs wracked through my body.

  “It’s okay.” He rocked me back and forth while I continued to cry into his shoulder. “It was just a nightmare.”

  The tears kept coming, and I couldn’t stop.

  He weaved his hand through the hair on the back of my neck while clutching me against him. “I got you. It’s okay.”

  His touch was warm against my neck, and the way he held me felt comforting, slowly easing away the horror of what I had just experienced. And as the realization of it only being a nightmare started to sink in, my sobs turned into soft, labored breaths.

  Onyx pulled away an inch to look at me. “You okay?”

  I nodded even though I screamed “no” on the inside.

  He wiped a strand of hair from my face, fingers gently touching my cheek. “You sure?”

  I nodded again, but this time I pulled away from him. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure? Because you scared the bejesus out of me when I heard you scream like that. What the fuck did you dream?”

  I wiped my nose with the back of my hand. “Nothing.”

  He raised a brow. “That sure as fuck didn’t sound like nothing.”

  “I’m fine.” I scooted up, pressing my back against the headboard. “Really. I’m fine.”

  He seemed doubtful as he looked at me. “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good.” He placed his hands on his knees, suddenly seeming uncomfortable. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Sugar water? Xanax?”

  I snorted. “If I say Xanax, can you give me ten?” I sniffed.

  “Don’t push it.” He winked, his lips curled up in a half-smile.

  I pulled my knees up to my chest. My heart was still pounding against my ribs, my gut still heavy with fear even though I felt the relief of it all being a nightmare.

  “So, are you going to tell me what it was?”

  I glanced at Onyx. “What do you mean?”

  “What your nightmare was about?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Onyx nodded. “As long as you know you’re safe now.”

  “Am I?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  I remained silent and scanned the room. “Where are we?”

  Onyx got up from the bed. “It’s a safe house.”

  “A safe house?”

  “Yeah. We didn’t want to chance it, so we brought you here.”

  I glanced down at the white sheets and softly brushed my palm across it. “Is he here too?”

  “Granite? Yeah, he’s here.”

  Somehow, knowing he was there made the lingering fear of my nightmare disappear a little more. I hated that, though. I hated that his presence still affected me. I didn’t want to feel anything when it came to him. I wanted that part of me he consumed so easily to be nothing but a void of darkness.

  “So,” Onyx walked to the door, “I’m going to go get you something…I dunno, something to eat, maybe?”

  I didn’t answer him. I just watched as my palm moved over the soft sheets.

  “Okay, then.”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw him turn to leave, and I took a deep breath. “I was there.”

  He stopped.
“Where?”

  “I was there where she was.”

  “Who?”

  “Neon.”

  The expression on his face tightened, his eyes sad yet confused. “What do you mean?”

  “That picture I saw with her hanging from the ceiling. I was there.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Onyx rubbed the back of his neck.

  “It was terrifying, but I’m sure it wasn’t half as bad as it was for her.”

  “Listen, Alyx,” he pulled out a cigarette, “don’t go there. You’ll drive yourself bat-shit crazy.”

  “I think I’m already crazy.” I straightened my legs on the bed and glanced around. The walls were a light gray. Calming. Serene. Yet just another prison.

  Onyx came closer, standing right next to me. “You’re not crazy. You’re just a beautiful ballerina who got caught up in a war between some very bad people.”

  I looked up at him. “Is that what you are? Bad people?”

  His pressed his lips in a straight line and reached out, tucking my hair behind my ear. “We sure ain’t saints.”

  For what felt like the longest time, he kept my gaze. Suddenly, the silence seemed to stretch for miles with him standing so close to me, touching me.

  Onyx cleared his throat and pulled back, like he didn’t mean for that moment to happen. “You sure you’re okay?”

  No. No, I wasn’t okay. I felt rotten on the inside, slowly festering into nothing but filth. But I just nodded.

  “Sure I can’t get you anything? You haven’t eaten for a while.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want anything. Thanks.”