Wraith: A Second Chance Dark Romance (Masters of Mayhem Book 1)

by Renee Rocco

  Contents

  Introduction

  Playlist

  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

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Afterword

  Also by Renee Rocco

  It’s a new world order.

  Where the villains have become the heroes.

  Tortured. Damaged. Lethal.

  To the outside world, Eric ‘Wraith’ Shaw is the most feared enforcer in the Unholy. To me, he is the beautiful delinquent I’ve loved since kindergarten. I’m a product of a life gone wrong, and when I married someone else, I did it for a better future. Now that I know the depth of my husband’s depravity, I’ll risk everything to ruin his empire, because if Wraith and I want our happily ever after, we’re going to have to fight for it.

  Tormented. Broken. Survivor.

  I haven’t forgotten the day Jamie Ellis left town in handcuffs. But my high school crush is all grown up and married to the man holding me prisoner. Tortured and drugged, I’ve become a monster—and after I make Jamie a window, I’m going to remind her what it means to be from Mayhem. I lost her once. I won’t give her the chance to ghost me twice.

  Wraith

  Copyright © 2020 by Renee Rocco

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All song and movie quote and titles are the property of the sole copyright holders

  Cover Designer: Renee Rocco

  Interior Designer: Renee Rocco

  Editor: April LeHouiller

  Proofreader: Lisa Gilliam

  First Electronic Edition: December 2020

  13 Digit eISBN: 978-0-578-73032-5

  10 Digit eISBN: 0-578-73032-4

  First Print Edition: December 2020

  13 Digit ISBN: 978-0-578-73033-2

  10 Digit ISBN: 0-578-73033-2

  Printed in the United States of America

  For my Frankie. You saw my ugly and made me feel beautiful.

  “One day, somehow, some way, I’m gonna get outta here. And I’m gonna rain down on you like the Holy Ghost.”

  —Deadshot

  Playlist

  “Bad Company” by Five Finger Death Punch

  “Animal I Have Become” by Three Days Grace

  “Time of Dying” by Three Days Grace

  “Ava Adore” by Smashing Pumpkins

  “Bodies” by Drowning Pool

  “Burn” by The Cure

  “What I’ve Done” by Linkin Park

  “ATWA” by System Of A Down

  “Fine Again” by Seether

  “Dig Up Her Bones” by The Misfits

  Follow me on Spotify at @ Mrs. Mayhem

  for the complete Masters of Mayhem playlists.

  Prologue

  Wraith

  Post–Civil War II

  Mayhem, Pennsylvania

  “Hi.”

  I resist the urge to grin when I look up from the textbook resting on my lap. Shielding my eyes against the afternoon sun, I see Jamie Ellis hovering over me. My pulse quickens, and my palms go slick, but she can’t know I’m excited. I’m friggin’ thrilled, but I’m Eric Shaw, and I have a reputation to uphold. “Why’d you miss school yesterday?”

  She shrugs and squats beside me. Adjusts the skirt of her ugly blue dress around bruised legs. The clean scents of soap and shampoo cling to her. “Whatcha reading?”

  Most people avoid me. Not Jamie. She’s a tiny warrior invading my space. I don’t mind, though. We’ve known each other since kindergarten, but from a distance. Things changed late last semester. I’d caught Kyle McCarter groping her in the hallway and beat the living shit out of him. When the new school year started, Jamie glued herself to my side. For the last nine months, we’ve spent every lunch period together.

  Not going to lie. This girl being in my shadow annoyed the hell out of me at first, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. I mean, hell, everyone knows she gets beat by her dad. Saw no reason to be a dick to her. Figured she’d go back to keeping to herself. She didn’t, and then she grew on me, like mold. My friends accepted her because they knew I’d kick their asses if they didn’t.

  Now, weekends suck because she can’t hang out. Her asshole father locks her up in their house over on Vine Street, only letting her out to go to school and the library.

  The thing is, Jamie got dealt a raw deal, and nobody seems to want to do a damn thing about it. But someone has to have her back. Standing at over six feet tall and muscular to balance out the height, I’m a big kid. Appointed myself her unofficial bodyguard. At school, anyway. Can’t help her when she’s at home.

  Not yet, anyway.

  But I’m working on a plan.

  Tiny details about her get me going, and I have to remind myself Jamie’s not my girlfriend. Doesn’t stop me from wanting her. Can’t help it. When you get past the skinny and the thrift store from hell wardrobe, she’s friggin’ gorgeous. And guys other than me see it, too, but they know they have to go through me to get to her and that’s not happening.

  They’re horny, not suicidal.

  Can’t blame them for trying, though. She’s got the cutest sprinkling of freckles on the bridge of her nose. Her green eyes are speckled with golden glitter. Her face is flawless skin and sharp angles, giving her an almost mythical appearance. Like some fairy-tale creature come to life. Hard to tell if the body buried beneath the ugly, oversized dresses has curves or not, but I’m going to go with no. Personally, I don’t give a shit. She’s perfect as far as I’m concerned.

  What I do notice is when she’s nervous, Jamie wrings her hands until the skin’s splotchy, and she scrunches her face into an adorable scowl when she’s pissed. And there’s the bruises everyone pretends not to see—myself included. Nor does she talk about them, ever. Most times, it’s like I’m the one person who gives a shit if she’s hungry and hurting. I mean, yeah, I can beat the hell out of all the Kyle McCarters in the whole damn world, but I can’t do for her what an adult can.

  I can’t save her from her dad.

  But everything changes in two years.

  Jamie has to hold on a little longer. Once we’re eighteen, I’m getting her away from her father so she can start a life for herself.

  I tap the tip of her nose. “A book is what I’m reading, Runt.”

  Jamie scoots closer until our thighs touch. Her heat seeps through the denim of my jeans, sending a rush of blood to my dick. Because, yeah, what I need right now is a hard-on in the middle of the
schoolyard. Outstanding. Her hand shakes as she tucks a lock of her shoulder-length hair behind her ear. She tilts her face to the sky, her expression, as always, unreadable. “On sunny days, I can imagine being someplace else. Somewhere clean.”

  Her head’s angle shows a fresh burn the size of a cigarette on her neck, below her ear.

  Sonofabitch.

  Jamie squeezes her eyes shut, and I give her a quick once-over to see if the bastard did more damage. There’s a new, fist-sized mark on her chin. Lip’s got a small split, too. My gut tells me if her father keeps this up, he’s going to kill her before I have the chance to get her away from him. Then I’ll have to kill him, and it’ll be a colossal mess.

  Maybe it’s time my father teaches Billy Ellis what happens to a grown-ass man who uses his daughter as a punching bag.

  “I love Mayhem,” I tell her.

  Jamie opens her eyes and gapes at me for a full thirty seconds before laughing in my face. It’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh—truly laugh—since I’ve known her.

  “Impossible.”

  “It’s true,” I counter.

  Mayhem is in my blood. My dad’s Unholy, and at sixteen, I’m already on my way to following in his footsteps. I’m positive my best friend, Luke Hayden, and I are why Sheriff Warren is a raving drunk with a nervous tic.

  “Yes, well, you would. You’re Unholy royalty.” She plucks the history textbook off my legs. “Light reading?”

  I shrug. “Finals are next week.”

  Rusty Shaw’s big on school and made me promise I’d graduate. Since I have to be here anyway, I figure I might as well do my dad one better and finish with honors.

  If anyone other than Jamie or Luke saw me reading the book, I’d make a joke rather than admit to studying. With her, I don’t have to be that guy. My so-called bad-boy reputation doesn’t impress her.

  She examines the photos of old America splashed across the textbook’s glossy page. “Must be nice to be the smartest kid in class.”

  I work my ass off to get good grades. Hence, studying while I waited for Jamie to walk her cute butt over to me.

  “Knowledge is power.” I’ve adopted my dad’s motto.

  “True.” She turns the page and taps the photo of a lit-up and bustling Times Square. “Ever wonder how the world was before the war?”

  “Nope.”

  According to history, the conflict began on social media at the same time a global pandemic killed off a shitload of the world’s population. Online mobs created a nanny state that decimated fundamental freedoms. The fighting spilled over into the physical world. Riots erupted. Bloodbaths sparked a Second Civil War. Millions were slaughtered, and America burned. When the battle ended, a fractured nation emerged from the ashes with no real winner and only degrees of loss.

  We’re still cleaning up the mess, with huge chunks of the country buried under rubble and trapped in chaos.

  Jamie sets the book aside and steeples her legs. When she rests her chin on her knees, I get a peek at the black shorts beneath her skirt—and the bruising on her inner thighs.

  Christ, no.

  My jaw clenches and my muscles stiffen as fury turns my blood to lava. I’m about to ask Jamie the brutal question, already plotting how I’m going to kill Ellis and dispose of his body, when she stops me dead with an announcement that cools my rage and replaces it with dread.

  “I’m going away.”

  No one strays far from Mayhem. The town has its own gravity, grounding everyone who lives here.

  I hide my skepticism. Or is it fear? Whatever. “Yeah? Where are you going?”

  “Someplace I’ll hate more than Mayhem.”

  I want to put my arms around her, but I don’t, afraid I’ll spook her. Jamie hates being touched. Can’t say I blame her. “Stay. Problem solved.”

  “Can’t.” She stretches out her legs. “I came to school to say goodbye and to thank you for being my friend.”

  Jamie pops onto her knees and faces me. I stay as still as death when she grips my shoulders. I may not be relationship material, but I would be better for her. Only for her. Then she surprises the hell out of me by leaning in real close to press her mouth to mine.

  I lick the taste of apples off her lips.

  As of this second, apples are my favorite fruit.

  When Jamie moves away, I’m tempted to haul her back for another kiss. But I don’t because teachers are watching, and when she glances over her shoulder, I track her gaze to the squad car parked outside the schoolyard. Her sad smile is a knife in my heart. She stands and brushes dirt off her bare knees. Then she spins on the heel of her scuffed sneakers, and before I can stop her, she marches toward the school. I should chase after her. Instead, like an asshole, I stay stuck to the spot beneath the tree and watch as she disappears inside the old brick building.

  Time grinds to a halt, but somehow, the minutes still fly by.

  Five…

  Ten…

  The bell rings, marking the end of the lunch period. I grab the textbook and join the student lineup, taking a place behind Luke. He had a growth spurt this year and finally caught up to my height.

  “What’s the sheriff doing here?” Luke asks over his shoulder.

  “No clue,” I say, but I have a sick feeling it has everything to do with Jamie.

  As we shuffle toward the entrance, Sheriff Warren comes marching out. He’s not alone. I don’t know what shocks me more—Jamie’s kiss lingering on my lips or seeing her led away in handcuffs.

  1

  Wraith

  Eight Years Later

  Marion County, Florida

  I’m positive of one absolute truth—I’m not dying in this cage.

  Bad enough, David Crane makes bank off my fights. I won’t give him the satisfaction of profiting from my death.

  It’s Fight Night, and the Coliseum’s ground floor is packed. Rows of chairs ten deep wrap around a steel cage in the center of the prestigious arena. A cloud of tobacco smoke thickens air rank with too much cologne, perfume, and sweat. Strategically placed bouncers serve as crowd control. Provocative, leather-clad bartenders hustle to keep pace with the steady flow of orders. Flirtatious waitresses work an upscale horde, sating the mob’s appetite for liquor while fighters quench their thirst for violence.

  The action flows to a brothel above the arena. Up there, enough money buys limitless debauchery. Shit those sick fucks do in the luxury rooms is so bad, we won’t even allow it in Mayhem—and our motto is Pick your pleasure, so…

  Yeah. It’s fucking disgusting.

  Crane built himself a kingdom on the border of Ocala National Forest. As far as I know, there’s only one known entrance, making Gomorrah virtually inescapable. But trust I’m getting out of here, and it won’t be in a body bag.

  Never turn your back on your enemy.

  The warning echoes in my head. Keeps me upright long after I should have fallen. My opponent is taller than me, agile, too, but slim. Felix’s jabs are quick, but I’m quicker. His kicks brutal, but I’m stronger. The guy has landed more than a few solid hits, and I swear he’s ruptured something vital when he roundhouses me. But I’m a brick shithouse and I withstand the battering, giving better than I receive.

  Shame I have to kill him. He’s putting up a hell of a fight.

  Cracked ribs are razor blades grating against my lungs. Sweat stings my eyes. My brain is bashed around inside my skull, with each crash of Felix’s fist doing more damage. But I’m still alive.

  Mayhem born and raised, I’ve fought my way to the top of the Unholy’s food chain, earning a place as the gang’s most feared enforcer. I know how to hurt someone, and I dig deep as I swing my right arm in a heavy overhand, aiming for an imaginary target beyond Felix’s head. The goal is never to hit the person. It’s to punch through them. I aim past him, the slam of my knuckles shattering flesh and bone. Christ, I destroy the man’s face, ruining his orbital socket.

  I’m relentless. Can’t give Felix a shred of mercy. I
nstead, I bare my teeth, an animal moving in for the kill, and hammer him with a volley of punches until my arms scream from exhaustion.

  Concussed, I see three of Felix and maintain the attack on the one in the middle. He crawls away, groping at the mat, and gains his feet. I spit out a mouthful of blood and charge forward. I nail him hard enough to buckle his legs. My guard stays up, and although I never hesitate, I’m still a fucking human being beneath this…monster…and I can’t bring myself to whale on a man when he’s on his knees.

  Die, damn you.

  There’s no glory in my inevitable victory—no honor in beating someone who lost the fight a dozen punches ago. But the battle won’t end until one of us is dead.

  The crowd’s roar is thunderous, their bloodlust sickening. These people are supposed to be civilized members of society. God-fearing, law-abiding aristocracy who glare down their collective nose at folks who live outside of their manicured world. To them, I’m trash—less than nothing. A criminal who, they believe, has earned my place in this cage.

  Screw them.

  Felix pushes to his feet, his legs unsteady. He doesn’t raise his arms. He’s not protecting himself, and he’s not putting up a fight. A ghost of a grin lifts his bleeding lips. Holy shit, the guy is gone. Checked out. The battering trashed his brain. Completely busted him to hell. It’s no consolation to my conscience, but he knew he would die tonight. I saw the defeat in his eyes when he entered the cage. Saw his fear—and ultimately his acceptance—when the door locked behind us. It’s a surrender I’d seen on other fighters when they knew they’d lost before the battle began. Doesn’t make having to kill this man any easier.