Page 1 of Merciless

PROLOGUE

ALANA

Five years ago…

With my heart in my throat and my entire body trembling with fear, I stuff as much as I can into my bag.

A couple of shirts, a spare pair of pants, and some underwear. My movements are robotic and methodical. My only focus is getting out of this prison while I have the chance.

Stopping at my desk, I grab my diary, the only sentimental thing I own, and I slide it into the back of my backpack, ensuring it’s tucked safely at the bottom.

Every second of my life up until this point is written inside my beloved diaries. This is just the latest in a pile of them that I’ve stashed somewhere safe, in the hope of them only ever being retrieved by me one day. They’re an extension of me. And that isn’t something I’m willing to leave behind to be read and ridiculed by those who have done their best to break me.

I refuse to give them the satisfaction of seeing me suffer at their hands any longer and I’m certainly not letting them into my head.

There’s nothing left for me here. Only pain. My only reason for staying here has been ripped away.

They think I’m just going to sit back and take it. But she’s out there somewhere. Suffering. And I’m the only one she’s got to fight for her.

Shoving my arms into my black hoodie, I cover my head with the hood, tucking my hair inside.

I want to vanish. I want to slip into the shadows and leave this hellhole of a town with my head held high, knowing that they didn’t win.

They tried. They really did. But they didn’t break me.

Not really.

My body might be battered; my sanity in shreds. But I’m still here, I’m still standing, and like fuck are they going to take anything else from me.

Throwing my bag onto my back, I move toward the door. Cracking it open, I listen, but the house is wrapped in silence, just like I knew it would be.

I overheard him earlier, planning his night out.

I also know exactly how it’s going to go.

He’s going to go to the Hawks clubhouse and get fucked up. Smack around a few of the club whores, who seem so intent on having their lives ruined by these twisted motherfuckers, before he stumbles back here looking for me. And if I’m really un-fucking-lucky, he’ll bring some friends.

My stomach knots at the prospect. Acid burning within, as bile threatens to make an appearance as my injuries from the last time I was forced to endure them ache all over again.

With my grip on my backpack so tight my knuckles are white, I make my way through the only house I’ve ever known.

It might be in darkness, but I see it all. Every item that can be used as a weapon, every placed object that can hurt.

I barely remember any happy times here. They’re few and far between.

The only good thing in the past few years was her.

But she’s gone now, and all I can do is hope that she’s found something better, not just different flavors of the same men who only want one thing.

I cry out as pain explodes up my shin, before clapping my hand over my mouth.

Glancing down, I find the coffee table shoved aside. Maybe I don’t know this place as well as I thought I did.

But I don’t stop to look; instead, I continue hobbling forward with my eyes locked on the backdoor.

A door that leads to freedom.

My salvation.

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