Page 1 of The Gentleness of Rage

Prologue.

Jaelynn

Ithrew the rucksack out of the open window, listening for any sign of someone being outside. After nobody queried the thump of my bag, I climbed out on the ledge and swung for the tree branch close by. Laughter and music sounded from below, and I hated the fact that Damien was downstairs acting the gracious host.

Meanwhile, here I was, clinging to a tree branch and trying to escape. If anyone came out now and caught me, all hell would break loose. Damien already excused me as having a family emergency. What would his work colleagues say if they realised I’d been locked upstairs in a bedroom?

Fuck all. Just like the last few times they’d been called to me. Each time I was admitted to hospital, doctors phoned the cops. And the officers who turned up told them I have Munchausen Syndrome.

The third doctor I had seen had challenged that, asking how the hell I managed to get fingerprints in places I could not possibly reach. He was harassed for three months solid before moving state. I couldn’t blame him.

No, Damien had law enforcement snowed. And if they weren’t, he had them in a tight grip. Nobody would go against him.

Damien literally thought he was untouchable, and the world was proving him right. Good for him. He could fuck himself and that whore Lucy Rogers, who I knew he was cheating with.

I climbed carefully down the tree. Night had fallen, and although the house was lit up for Damien’s party, the front only had the porch lights on. Hopefully, no one was looking out the window and would spot my shadow.

I landed on my bad ankle and winced. It hurt, but it wouldn’t stop me from escaping. I grabbed the bag and snuck away.

Every time a car turned down our road, I hid behind parked cars or trees. I had to reach the end of the block, and once there, someone would be waiting to help me flee.

Laughter spilled out further, and I cursed.

Damien’s partner, a cop as sadistic as him, was heading towards me… with that whore Lucy Rogers! Talk about disrespecting me in my own house! Fuck them both. Wade would only be bringing Lucy here if Damien had ordered it.

Crawling behind a car and ending up in the road, I prayed nobody would drive down and spot me.

Hell, even my neighbours believed Damien’s shit. But not all.

Wade strode past, almost tugging Lucy with him and chatting up a storm. As soon as he was past, I crept forward, and a few minutes later, I saw my escape.

A Ford truck sat idling, and I threw my bag in the back and opened the passenger door.

“Ready, chick?” the driver asked.

“Get me out of here,” I replied, starting to shake. I was free. Damien would never control me again.

Chapter One.

March 2023

Slate

Slate was fuming. Tonight was not the fuckin’ night to pull a sickie. And what had two of the waitresses and a bartender done? Called in sick.

Did they think he was stupid? Slate knew damn well they had attended that concert they’d all been bitching about. They’d been refused the time off because it was a Friday.

Skylar, Ariel (the waitresses), and Hailee (the bartender) better live tonight up. Because when they strutted back in here tomorrow, they were fuckin’ fired. Nobody fucked Slate over on a Friday night.

The bar was packed, which was fantastic for business. However, it was rough when he was one of just two bartenders—and there were only two waitresses cleaning tables and taking orders.

The kid in the kitchen was frantically trying to clean glasses and get them back out for service. Slate had forced the cook to stick to fries and sandwiches.

Hunter had tried to help several times, but he was needed on the door. It seemed every fucker in Rapid City wanted to party tonight. Shotgun sent Slate a beleaguered look as he poured four whiskey shots, and Slate shook his head.

“Hunter’s called for back-up. There’s nobody available,” Slate shouted.

“Same with Chance. The guys are all out on jobs,” Shotgun replied.

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