NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
This book is told in two parts and is written from dual POV. Part I focuses on juvie where Ryder and Zeta first meet because I felt it was important to show their backstory and illustrate the depth of the connection between them. They are seventeen/eighteen in this part, which takes up the first third of the book. Part II skips forward eight years when Ryder is now a famous rock star and Zeta is the girl he left behind with a broken heart.
This book deals with some heavy subject matter including mental health illness (depression, anxiety, PTSD) suicide, sexual assault, child abuse, loss of a child, violence, and addiction. If any of those are triggers for you, I suggest you don’t read this book.
The prologue of this book is especially harrowing so please be warned. While I’ve tried to depict the scene in a way that’s not too graphic, my beta readers have said it’s “brutal but powerful.” This scene is important because it helps us understand Ryder and it gives us an insight into the demons he battles within himself. While the prologue is written in third person past tense, the rest of the book is written in first person present tense, as is my usual style of writing.
This book is emotional, raw, and angsty, but there are also lighter moments interspersed with humor, drama, and the usual debauchery of the rock star world, and there are plenty of romantic/sexy times too!
I hope you enjoy it.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
NO FEELINGS INVOLVED - COMING APRIL 2019
JUST AN ILLUSION, SIDE A BY D.KELLY
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
BOOKS BY SIOBHAN DAVIS
COPYRIGHT
PROLOGUE
The little boy cried for his mommy, his sobs growing more frantic when Ren shouted at him to stop. “Quit acting like a pussy,” Ren snarled, landing another blow to the kid’s gut with his booted foot.
“I want my mommy!”
The boy’s anguished plea penetrated Jack’s soul, and he couldn’t stand idly by any longer. “Just let him go, Ren.” Jack looked up at the older boy, their self-appointed leader, trying to mask the fear from his bruised and bloodied face.
Ren stopped his assault on the four-year-old long enough to stalk toward Jack, grabbing him roughly around the neck. “You dare to question me again?” he spit out, eyes shooting daggers into Jack’s terrified gaze.
Jack should let it go, but he had to try one last time. “He’s only a kid. He won’t tell anyone. You don’t have to do this. Please.”
Ren shoved Jack into the hard, exposed stone wall at his back, tightening the grip on his neck as the partition rattled uneasily. Plumes of dust surrounded them as the wall ejected bits of loose stone. “That sniveling brat will run straight to his mommy”—he mocked the kid by using the same whiny tone—”and tell her everything. You want to go to juvie? You know what they do to pretty boys like you in there?” His mouth curved into a sneer. “They’ll ride your fucking ass so hard you’ll forget you ever liked pussy.”
“Stay the fuck down!” Vincent roared, lashing out at the crying boy as he tried climbing to his feet. The boy slammed to the floor on his back with his leg tilted at an awkward angle underneath him. Piercing screams soared to the rafters of the derelict warehouse at the abandoned airfield the gang used as their base. “There’s no point crying, kid,” Johnny taunted, pressing his foot down on the boy’s broken leg, smiling maliciously as his screams grew more pronounced and the smell of urine trickled into the air.
Jack’s lungs constricted along with his oxygen supply as Ren kept a tight grip on his neck. “This is going down. You’re either with us or you’re not.” Ren drilled him with a dark look that sent chills tiptoeing up Jack’s spine. He understood the threat, and he knew there was nothing more he could do.
Ren didn’t misjudge people, but he wondered, in that moment, if he’d made a mistake bending his rules and letting the younger boy join the brotherhood.
Jack’s soul splintered behind his ribcage as he nodded at Ren, making the only decision he could. Ren let him go, and Jack slumped to the ground, panting and rubbing his sore neck as he desperately sucked air into his needy lungs. Ren redirected his attention, turning around as the little nuisance screamed louder, but there was no one to hear him out here.
Crying was pointless.
There was no one coming to his aid.
Jack scrambled to his feet, locking eyes with Vincent. He too was standing back, watching as the other members of their pack surrounded the helpless little boy, attacking him with their fists and their feet, landing blow after blow, kick after kick, until the boy’s strangled cries turned to whimpers and eventually died out.
The older teens kept kicking even as the little body at their feet stopped writhing.
Even as his tiny chest stopped moving.
Eventually they stopped, and silence descended as all eyes swiveled to Ren, awaiting instruction.
Pain lanced through Jack’s chest, and Vincent averted his gaze in an attempt to hide his grief. When he lifted his chin up again, there was no trace of emotion on Vincent’s face. There couldn’t be. If Ren detected any weakness, he’d be as dead as that poor kid on the ground.
Talk about wrong place, wrong time.
Vincent kicked at debris on the filthy floor, and Jack swallowed the bile swimming up his throat while they both watched Ren prod the lifeless little boy with his foot.
“Fucking A.” Johnny threw back his head, letting loose an animalistic howl as the rest of the gang joined in, howling and fist pumping the air like his death was something to celebrate. Jack, Vincent, and Ren were the only quiet ones.
Ren bent down, picked up the boy’s limp wrist, and pressed his thumb to the place where his pulse should beat steadily. For a split second, he dropped his head and then he stood, grinning from ear to ear. “Take the body outside and bury it.” He sent a pointed look at Johnny, his loyal number two. With a jerk of his head he motioned everyone else over to the other side of the warehouse.
Jack kept his head down as he trudged after the group of boys’ he once hoped would become the family he never had, fighting tears the entire time. Vincent slanted a warning look in his direction, shoving his hands in his pockets and keeping step with him.
Ren stopped, and everyone waited for him to speak. His gaze traveled among his crew. “No one speaks of this. Ever. You take this to the grave.” His eyes locked on Jack
before switching to Vincent. Ren never missed anything, so it wasn’t surprising that he’d picked up on Vincent’s disquiet either. A shiver worked its way through Vincent’s body, and he finally understood the meaning of real fear. “Understood?” Ren demanded.
The message was clear.
Talk and they’d be the last words you ever said.
PART I – JUVIE
A few years later
CHAPTER 1
Ryder
“Fresh pussy alert,” Lopez hisses under his breath as we stand with our hands behind our backs, heads bowed, facing the whitewashed wall. It’s the same drill every morning before school. I keep my eyes trained on the wall, ignoring the douche’s bait. Wright and Kelly don’t have the same smarts though. Idiots jerk their head around, instantly garnering the attention of Watson, the correctional officer on duty today. He’s my least favorite of the bunch. Dude hates me with a passion unrivaled, and he never misses an opportunity to tell me.
And it’s not because he knows about my past. As far as he’s concerned, I’m Ryder Stone, and I’m guilty of the crimes recorded on the fake file that accompanied me when I arrived at the Orange County Juvenile Hall. If he knew my real identity, he’d probably kill me with his bare hands.
My records are officially sealed for a reason.
To protect me from retaliation.
And to close a door on one of the most shocking crimes the world has ever known.
Lots of people have a vested interest in forgetting what happened in the abandoned airfield that day.
I wish I could so easily wash my hands of it, but it stays with me constantly, lingering on my skin like a nasty rash that refuses to go away, worming its way into my consciousness like a terminal infection I’ll never shake.
Not until it’s claimed me.
Devoured me from the inside, destroying all evidence of the person I used to think I was.
Some days, I silently beg to forget. Pleading with a deity I no longer believe in, begging an imaginary God to take the pain away. Other days, I wish for a lobotomy or for someone to scrub my brain out with bleach so I don’t remember.
But most days, I hope I never forget.
Because I deserve to live with this pain.
I allowed it to happen, and it’s only right I should be punished every day for the rest of my life.
My stomach sours, and I squeeze my eyes shut as the memories, predictably, return to haunt me. His face flashes behind my retinas, and a painful lump wedges in my throat.
Watson barks at my fellow inmates, and it helps drag me from the torturous slideshow playing in my mind. I forcibly toss those thoughts aside, tuning Watson out as he rips Wright and Kelly a new one for daring to look at the new girl being escorted inside.
While they have separate boys and girls units in the facility, female offenders convicted of more serious, violent crimes are housed with us in what is deemed to be a coed unit. Crazy stupid idea if you ask me. Although we don’t sleep in the same pod as the four other girls presently locked up with us, we interact with them as normal during the day. They attend school with us, eat meals with us, and share the coed common areas with us.
Recipe for disaster.
Lopez is already banging Valeria, a hard-ass Latino girl, in here for gang-related crimes, so he has no business eyeing up the new girl, but that won’t stop him. He thinks his shit doesn’t stink and that he can do anything and get away with it. But he’s a fucking asshole with a superiority complex and a brain the size of a peanut. He’ll get what’s coming to him. I’ve been locked up long enough to know there isn’t much you can do without someone around here eventually finding out.
Watson, expectedly, pulls Wright and Kelly out of the line when his colleague Price appears, and we shuffle forward in single file behind the other officer while the guys are taken back inside to receive their punishment. That’s probably earned them a couple hours in solitary. Not that those idiots will mind. Most of the guys in here put zero to no effort into their schoolwork. They don’t give a fuck about getting their GED or educating themselves, but I do.
Having some kind of purpose and an expected daily routine is the only way I keep sane. The only way I avoid the drugs, sex, and fights that are far too commonplace in here.
Squinting up at the scorching hot sun as we walk toward the school wing, I relish the warmth beating down on my skin. Apart from the hour a day we are permitted outside for physical activity, traveling to and from the school building is the only other chance I get to feel the air on my face. For me, having spent a significant portion of my earlier life freely wandering around outside, that’s one of the hardest things about being incarcerated. But I try not to complain.
At least I’m still alive.
I shut my train of thought down before it derails me again. It’s bad enough that my nights are plagued with vicious memories and flashbacks. During the day, I try to focus on getting through my routine without thinking about that day. Without thinking about him.
Morning classes fly by, and I’m ravenous as we’re led in single file to the cafeteria for lunch. “Fucking tuna cakes again,” Young grumbles as we line up to be served.
“You say this every fucking week,” I reply, shaking my head. “You know the routine by now.” I hate the shitty food as much as he does, but there’s a certain comfort in familiarity.
“Would it fucking kill them to mix it up a little? I’ll be having nightmares about tuna cakes for years after I get out of this hellhole.”
“If that’s all you’re having nightmares about, you’re good, trust me.” I give the server a tight smile as she slaps two tuna cakes, a dollop of gray mashed potatoes, spoonful of carrots, and a serving of limp salad and dressing on a plate and hands it to me. I nod my thanks as I grab an apple and carton of milk from the next station before heading over to our table.
Lopez is already mouthing off about the new girl as I sit down. His voice seriously hurts my brain, but I put up with his shit because it’s always better to keep the nutjobs close. Let him think I respect him if it keeps me on the right side. I’ve kept my nose relatively clean in here, and now that I’m on the home stretch, I intend to keep it that way.
Young is still complaining as he flops into the seat beside me, and my lips twitch, fighting a smile.
“Check out the rack on the new girl,” Lopez tells Torres at the top of his voice, almost like he wants Valeria to hear him. I wouldn’t put it past Lopez to deliberately wind his current fuck buddy up in the hope she starts something with the new girl. It’s his usual M.O. Not that Valeria will need much encouragement I think as I look in the direction Lopez is pointing.
Damn. She’s pretty.
Her long, dark hair tumbles over her shoulders as she leans forward, picking at her bland tuna cake with slim fingers. She pops a piece in her mouth, her face pulling into a grimace.
“See.” Young nudges me in the ribs. “I’m not the only one who fucking hates fucking tuna.”
“Everyone hates fucking tuna, but if you want to live, you eat what they give you. Simple. Get over it.”
Young is my best buddy in here, but even he gets on my nerves sometimes. Hard not to when we spend so much time together. The two of us are the only ones in our crew with level four privileges, which means we have two and a half hours of free time each day and four hours of recreational time on weekends. That’s a lot of time listening to my younger buddy complain about the food.
I haven’t taken my eyes off the new girl. She’s forcing the tuna down, grimacing the entire time, and I can’t contain my grin. The food is fucking awful in here, but you need to just grin and bear it. It looks like she’s already learned that lesson. “Even the new girl gets it, and she’s only here a couple hours.” I push Young’s plate at him. “Eat.”
He flips me the bird, but he stops bitching and starts eating, and I’ll take that
as a win.
Young’s like the little brother I never had, and I like looking out for him. Gives me something to do and helps me stop feeling like a worthless piece of shit, if only for short bursts of time.
The new girl is sitting at a table all by herself, but she doesn’t seem phased by it. I watch her eyes subtly taking in her surroundings. She chews slowly as she discreetly scans the cafeteria. Valeria and her gang of bitches are sitting at the table in front of us, eyeing her warily. If she’s aware, she’s not letting on.
Officer Powell, the only female officer in the coed unit and one of the few to treat us with any shred of respect, steps up to the newbie, her mouth moving slowly as she speaks with her. The new girl stands, and I’m betting she feels every set of eyeballs glued to her banging body. Every person in this room is staring at her, and I want to stand up and scream at them all to leave her the fuck alone. It’s the same every time a newbie arrives; although, looking at this girl, I have a feeling the spotlight will be on her for some time.
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