Surrender: Saving Setora Book 6

by Dark, Raven

  Surrender

  Saving Setora Book 6

  Raven Dark

  Petra J. Knox

  Praise for Saving Setora

  "The softest woman requires the hardest men to survive. Dark, gritty, and perfectly filthy--modern MC meets Mad Max in this amazing RH tale. You will lust, you will crave, and you will scream for more!"

  ~Addison Cain, USA Today bestselling author

  "So incredibly well-written. Compelling. Suspenseful. I was holding my breath as I was reading. But be warned, the authors aren't joking. This is definitely a DARK romance. If you like sweet, this is not the book. But if you like dark romance, you won't be able to put this one down."

  ~ Nia Mars, author

  “…leaves you on the edge of your seat the whole way through. The characters are so detailed and the plot is so mysterious that you’ll be dying for more by the end of it.”

  ~Christina, Amazon Customer

  Surrender (Saving Setora: Book Six)

  Copyright © 2019 Raven Dark and Petra J. Knox, all rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Please purchase only authorized editions of this book, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrightable materials.

  Cover by Raven Dark

  Cover images courtesy of DepositPhotos

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Note to Readers

  1. A Question Answered

  2. Plans and Plots

  3. The Ways of Pirates

  4. Tease

  5. Pillow Talk

  6. Chasing Phantoms

  7. Real

  8. Unexpected Truths

  9. The Coming Storm

  10. The Bonds of Brotherhood

  11. Frantic

  12. Wishing for Evil

  13. The Way into Hell

  14. Garganthor’s Maze

  15. A Touch of Heaven

  16. The Monster’s Soldiers

  17. The Traitorous J’nai

  18. Into the Devil’s Lair

  19. When the Tables Turn

  20. Between Two Rocks and a Cold Place

  21. For the Good of the Club

  22. A Woman of Many Names

  23. Something Wrong

  Acknowledgments

  Connect with Raven Dark

  Connect with Petra J. Knox

  Dedication

  For our family who love us, for our friends who were there for us, and of course, for our readers, without whom this series wouldn’t have been possible.

  Love to you all.

  Always,

  Raven and Petra

  Note to Readers

  This book has dark elements and scenes that may be triggering for some readers. The world and the characters about whom you read herein are not sweet, friendly people. The hell in which they live is a dark, desolate place, lawless and without mercy. It will either build them up or kill them.

  Welcome to Setora’s world.

  Enter at your own risk.

  Chapter 1

  A Question Answered

  My mother.

  Over what must have been only seconds but felt like minutes, I tried desperately to grasp what I was seeing. My brain seemed to have jammed, repeating the same phrases over and over.

  My mother.

  Here.

  Alive.

  My mother.

  Here.

  With Mayhem.

  Alive.

  Questions raced through my mind, tripping over one another, demanding to be asked, and yet I couldn’t seem to make my mouth work to speak any of them. The whole world disappeared, my breathing a ragged sound, distant through the thrumming of the blood in my ears.

  “I can’t believe this,” my mother—my mother—said, grasping my hands. Her own hands were shaking, whether from excitement or joy, I wasn’t sure. “It’s you!” Her eyes were shining and wet.

  The men were all talking at once, a cacophony of disbelief and questions.

  “Your…what?” Pretty Boy burst out.

  “Amazing.” Hawk’s deep voice was a whisper, filled with wonder.

  “Maker’s tits.” Steel.

  “Holy fucking shit.” Sheriff.

  “D?” Mayhem was looking between us, stunned. His eyes demanded to know what was going on here.

  I was too numb to feel anything but shock.

  My mind rolled over what had happened the last time I’d seen her. I’d been six, and I’d seen her tied up and stripped, thrown to the baking hot sand while poachers rode around her prone form whooping and yodeling like animals, throwing dust up around her. All this before they’d dragged her onto the back of a bike and rode off into the desert, while I’d hidden inside a broken-down transport, too frightened to move or breathe. I’d seen her look back at me, her eyes begging me to stay hidden, to survive.

  Days had passed into years until, finally, I had given up all hope of seeing my mother and my brother Dax again, coming to the conclusion that they were likely dead.

  Except here my mother was, standing before me, healthy and whole…and happy.

  When I finally found my voice…

  “How?” I asked dumbly.

  My mother opened her mouth to speak, but I shook my head.

  “No. It can wait. I just want to…” I trailed off, unable to put into words what I wanted.

  She chuckled, a tearful choked sound, seeming to understand me because she walked around the table, and the next instant, we were holding each other.

  “Setora.” She smoothed my hair and kissed the top of my head, squeezing me so close I could barely breathe. “It’s like a wonderful dream.” Her beautiful voice, huskier than mine, washed over me. “If I’m hallucinating from Stitch’s drugs, I don’t ever want to come down.”

  I held her just as tightly. My eyes welled, stinging painfully. How I kept from sobbing shamelessly, I’d never know. Instead, I breathed her in, clinging to her as though if I let go, she might disappear. I wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t.

  She smelled just as she had when I was young, before she was taken, like vanilla soap and hard work, the faint scent of her favorite apple shampoo mixed with pine-scented cleaning solvent. Like motherhood. She was as she had been then, soft and strong and sturdy all at the same time, her embrace protective and warm.

  For a single moment in time, I was a little girl again, safe and innocent, untouched by the cruelty of the world beyond her. That thought alone nearly had me sobbing, weeping for a time long lost and never to return.

  But the real world was still there, and the questions that filled me nearly to bursting wouldn’t allow themselves to be ignored. Plus, an introduction was in order, lest I leave my Four clearly trying to reconcile what I’d told them about my mother.

  I drew back, still holding her hands in mine. Slaves did not normally receive a formal introduction, and I wasn’t sure how they’d respond or how she would, not to mention Mayhem, but it felt right somehow to do so.

  “Masters, I…this is my mother, Fay—” I stopped, unsure if she wanted me to share her real name or use the one Mayhem had apparently given her. “…er, Dalathine. Mother, these are Sheriff, General of the Dark Legion; Hawk, his Second in Command and Captain of the Guard; Pretty Boy, his Treasurer; and Steel, the Head of Operations. They are my Masters and the heads of the Dark Legion.”

  I waited with bated breath, glancing between my mother and the men. Would they be embarrassed at such an obvious break in protocol? Would Mayhem scoff or pretend I hadn’t done it? Would my mother struggle with how to react, then privately scold me for say
ing something that might force her to react as if she should be introduced to men as an equal?

  If Mayhem had chosen to introduce her in such a way to the men, it wouldn’t have been an issue. This was his place, and she was his slave. But for me, a slave myself…

  It seemed like a good idea, until I actually did it. Until I saw my mother’s face turn deep scarlet.

  When I glanced at Sheriff, he blinked, as if he wasn’t sure how to react. My other masters remained sitting, still as statues, waiting for their General to set the tone first. Mayhem’s eyes widened in surprise. He looked at the floor, making it hard for me to see his expression, though I could’ve sworn he was smiling.

  Sheriff cleared his throat. “Good to meet you.” I’d never heard him sound so awkward. His eyes flicked to me, amused.

  Something dangerously close to adoration for him hit me like a wave. He could have reacted like any other master in this situation, with mockery or even anger, or just plain ignoring me.

  The others nodded and smiled in greeting, all equally respectful, if still looking stunned—as much by my introducing her formally as with the understanding of who she was.

  Hawk gave a formal bow of his head, of all things. From any other man, the gesture would have seemed emasculating, but from him, it carried the feel of unmistakable Yantu custom and didn’t seem the least bit out of place.

  My mother’s eyes widened at his bow. She wrung her hands, seeming unsure what to do with herself.

  Were she a man, my Four would have stood and shook hands with her, but none of them dared do that with another man’s slave.

  “Mother,” I finally said looking up at her. “How in the Maker’s name are you alive? How are you here?”

  She looked back at Mayhem. Asking permission to answer, I assumed.

  Mayhem cleared his throat even more harshly than Sheriff. “Why don’t we all sit down. It seems there is a hell of a story to tell here.”

  Mayhem then returned to his seat on the sectional, and I followed suit. My mother sat beside him, across from me.

  Sheriff stared at her, and when Mayhem raised a brow, Sheriff shook himself. “Sorry, Mayhem. None of us mean any disrespect. It’s just that Setora said her mother was…”

  Dead, my mind finished. His voice wasn’t accusatory, only puzzled.

  Mayhem closed his hand over hers and set it on his knee. She leaned back on the couch with him, visibly trying to relax. She crossed one leg over the other, her other hand on her lap, the picture of propriety and dignity I could never hope to match. Her eyes were slightly downcast, never looking any of the men in the eye, yet she radiated strength and something close to queenly grace, so much so that the leather couch at her back could have been a throne.

  My mother had always been like that; even with her eyes lowered and silent, she managed to appear incredibly dignified. It amazed me. In twelve years, she’d changed not at all in either appearance or countenance. Despite her thicker hair, her longer legs, and a darker color to her purple eyes, she could have been my older sister.

  And yet now that I had a chance to really observe her, I couldn’t help noticing she did look a mess. Her hair was disheveled and tangled. Her slender face, the spitting image of my own, was drawn and tired, as if she hadn’t slept in days. Worry pricked at me, seeing her like that.

  “We’ll get to that,” Mayhem said, bringing my attention back to the discussion. “It’s a long story.”

  I didn’t doubt he was right.

  My mother and Mayhem exchanged a glance, something I didn’t understand passing between them.

  The corners of her mouth curled up as she glanced at him with what looked like wonder. “Master, did you…” my mother started but trailed off.

  Mayhem shook his head. “No. Wasn’t my doing, D. I invited the Legion and Setora here because of this shit that’s happening with you. I only knew General Sheriff had a Violet that was behaving the same way. I had no idea she was your daughter until I saw her.”

  Mother wiped her eyes and gave a broken laugh, shaking her head at me. “I can’t believe this is happening. We…we spent years looking for you, but…” She sniffed. “Okay, we’d better start at the beginning.” She shifted nervously on the couch. “Setora, as to how I ended up here. Remember when Dax and I were captured after rescuing you from the Death Blades?”

  My mother’s words sent a cascade of memories flooding through my mind. Memories of the poachers—the Death Blades—in masks, and that horrible slave house, the same house they’d taken me and Cherry to. The same one Cherry had ended up trapped in for years after my mother and Dax had rescued me. I’d had nightmares about that place long after. And to make matters worse, I’d always thought my mother and Dax’s capture was my fault. They’d only been taken because they’d come to save me, which they’d never have had to do if I hadn’t tried to save Cherry in the first place. A hundred years could have passed, and I’d still have remembered that day.

  “I remember,” I said softly.

  My mother took her hand out of Mayhem’s and leaned forward, folding her hands on her knee. “Well, the Angels of Mayhem used to wear another name. They used to be called the Death Blades.”

  My back went ramrod straight. The blood drained from my face so fast I felt it leave my cheeks. The joy and wonder I’d felt at being reunited with the woman I’d thought I’d lost for so long was washed away by something dark and violent that frightened me in its intensity.

  I put up my hands. “Wait. Are you saying he...” I made myself look at Mayhem. “He…he’s the one who took you from me?” I heard the grating accusation in my tone, but I didn’t care. Something close to terror had me gripping the front of my frock.

  Tension wrapped itself around my Four, and though none of them moved or spoke, I could feel them waiting for the rest of the story, ready to leap into action the moment they heard something they didn’t like.

  “Setora,” my mother began, “it’s not like that—”

  “But wait a minute.” I scrunched my brows at her. “The man who took you, I thought his name was Kyle. Kyle Reap. He was a General.”

  “No. The man who took me and Dax wasn’t Kyle. He was a member of the Death Blades but…” She sighed. “Oh, this is going to take some time to explain.”

  Mayhem laid a comforting hand on her back.

  I looked between my mother and her master, forcing myself to wait for them to continue, even though I was torn between wanting to tear into him and dash for the nearest door and drag her with me.

  “Setora, believe me when I tell you, Master Mayhem had nothing to do with kidnapping me. He would never have done so.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  My mother glanced at Mayhem helplessly.

  Mayhem took out another cigar and lit it. “Setora, I understand how thrown you must be. If I had known you were the daughter D told me about, I would’ve handled this differently, but I’ll try to explain. Back then, the Death Blades were five hundred men strong. We had two chapters, one here and another in Prin. What most of us didn’t know was that about twenty of the men from the Prin Chapter had taken up a trade the rest of us would never have touched—the skin trade.”

  “You mean they sold women.” I closed my eyes, but it didn’t shut out the old memories that tore at my thoughts. What about Cherry?

  “And children, yes.” Mayhem’s voice was a growl of disgust.

  “Forgive my interruption, General.” Hawk paused when Mayhem glanced at him. “I’d never heard of Kyle Reap trading slaves. I thought his crew was only into manufacturing and selling weapons? Where is Kyle? What did he do about it?”

  Mayhem’s face broke into a grin. He sat back and puffed on his cigar. “You might say Kyle is dead. Not long after I brought D back here to Hollow Hill, I’d seen what my club had become. Me and the crew at Hollow Hill hunted down Prin’s rogue members, along with all who were associated with their trade, and destroyed them.”

  “Wait, are you saying you’re Ky
le Reap?” Steel’s eyes were wide.

  “I am.”

  My Four exchanged stunned looks.

  “I refused to have our club associated with such dealings,” Mayhem went on. “It took us years to straighten the club out and clean up its image but eventually, I changed my name to Mayhem. I changed our colors, our patch, and gave the MC my new name. The Death Blades became the Angels of Mayhem, and all that remained of the old club was gone.”

  “Wow. That’s epic.” Pretty Boy’s teeth flashed.

  Mayhem chuckled, then sobered again. “It’s natural for men to own slaves, but not like that. Not when they’re sold to the highest bidder without a care as to how their new master treats them.” He set his hand over my mother’s, massaging it. The possession in the gesture was unmistakable. My mother’s cheeks turned pink and her lips curved in a shy smile.

  “But, Mother, how did you end up here, in Mayhem’s MC?” I asked. “And what happened to Dax? The last time I saw him, the men who took you had tied him to the back of a bike and dragged him away.”

  With the way Dax had been dragged off, I assumed he’d been killed. Always having been underweight and without any special skills an MC could use, he would have held no value for the men who took him except to be put to work until he died, subjected to unspeakable torture, or simply killed outright.