by M. C. Cerny
Rival
A Revenge & Legacy Prequel
M.C. Cerny
Contents
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Rival
1. Elizabeth
2. Adam
3. Elizabeth
4. Aaron
5. Elizabeth
6. Aaron
7. Elizabeth
8. Adam
9. Aaron
10. Adam
11. Elizabeth
12. Adam
Hunter - Chapter One
Books by M.C. Cerny
About the Author
Copyright
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Books by M.C. Cerny
About the Author
Copyright
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Rival
Once upon a time, a little girl dreamed of escaping her hard life. She never imagined the Devil would be the one to offer her a deal.
* * *
A trade.
* * *
Her life for the ones she loved.
* * *
Forever.
This is a prequel to the Revenge & Legacy Series, a dark romance retelling of Hades and Persephone. Rival is just the beginning…Prepare to meet Adam Huntley, his ward Elizabeth, and his brother Aaron. Nothing is at it seems.
* * *
All is dark, and all is not fair in love and war.
1
Elizabeth
‘You see us as you want to see us. In the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions.’ - The Breakfast Club
Newark, NJ
“Go! Go! Go!” Calloused hands covered in filth pushed me hard to the right. Slipping and sliding over leather forced me to grab the door handle. The movement barely slowed my fall out of the passenger seat and onto the cracked curb. My senses jarred while a grunt escaped me. I certainly hadn’t anticipated my day starting with my ass skidding across butter soft leather in a shiny silver car that cost an obscene amount of money. The kind of money an orphan and an opportunistic criminal like myself could only hope to earn in two lifetimes, maybe three.
“Hey, asshole!” My backside stung. I rolled back and kicked the side door hard before my friends sped off, hopping the curb and nearly missing my ankles. Bruises and superficial cuts would cover my arm by tomorrow, but the thrill of getting the fancy car to purr under my skilled fingers, cutting and twisting wires, placated the burning pain in my side. My fingers touched the injuries tentatively, coming away stained with blood and grime. Lucky me, I’d live another day to hopefully wire another car.
At least I wasn’t spreading my legs. Legally, prostitution was no better, but stealing cars left me in control of my fate. The money was a perk, or at least whatever cut I saw from the chop shop once it was all said and done. A few hundred here and there helped make rent when we were short and fed us when my dad couldn’t be bothered or found. All I had to do was find the cars and let my delinquent friends deliver. Survival at its finest.
My brother lectured me about how wrong getting caught for grand theft auto would be until he was blue in the face, but he didn’t have to walk these streets. He joined our dad moving shipping crates at the port after getting his GED. Dropping out of school to work meant he missed seeing girls my age doing the walk of shame. His on again, off again girlfriend, Fiona, wasn’t much better off than we were. At least she was studying to be a nurse; school was expensive, and minimum wage at the bodega paid shit. We joked that someday she could be our sugar momma. For now, I wasn’t helpless flat on my back like most of the girls I knew in the lower ward. I hadn’t seen my dad in months. I rubbed the absent ache in my chest and ignored the pain in favor of reality.
“Get her!” Shouts over my shoulder came with the screech of tires, and the smell of burned rubber crept up faster than my legs could pump down the alley.
“Shit!” Cursing at getting caught, I pumped my arms as fast as I could, running and pushing bystanders out of my way. Hunger and exhaustion took toll slowing me down as I rounded a corner down an alley. I hadn’t eaten today, and the shove out of the car door rattled me more than expected. Thugs from another fancy car were hot on my heels like hellhounds.
I dodged piles of oozing, rotting garbage, covering my nose and mouth and trying not to gag. Rats skittered past, hissing with broken teeth and long tails that would give me nightmares later. The cracked rubber in my sneaker felt sticky and cold despite the heat with something saturating through the bottom hole. I pushed the thoughts down with my emerging bile and focused on making my arms move faster, clenching my fists and fighting for each step. Biting my bottom lip stopped the cries when my shin smacked the corner of a dumpster in my haste to escape. My jeans ripped, scraping deep. I stopped long enough to pull my leg free and felt skin tear with the force of yanking back. Another day, another scar for the collection.
“Over here!” The shouts were staccato beats mixed with my pounding heart as I scanned for another way out. To the left, the end was bricked up with nowhere to go, a literal dead end. I couldn’t go back and risk getting caught. I was a scrapper, but I wasn’t dumb enough to get my ass beat by a gang, or worse—guys with guns and eager dicks.
The last social worker gave my brother, Eddie, a ribbing for the shitty housing we lived in. As if two kids, both of us technically minors, had a lot to say about the tenement building our parents dumped us in. Whatever he did to get her to leave caused an argument that lasted weeks with his girlfriend. Fiona was the older sister I never had but badly needed. Deep down I feared she’d leave us too, and my heart wasn’t walled up enough to bear another loss.
Being an obstacle to their relationship made me feel like shit, which made me do impulsive and stupid things. It was an enormous problem for all of us when not contained. The social worker thought meds and a nice suburban hobby like cheerleading or team sports would help. She was an asshole with a degree and a job with stupid amounts of overzealous authority. Fuck her. Fuck Ritalin. Fuck dance classes and shaking my ass in pleated skirts that would get me in more trouble if she had half a clue about me and my life.
The lower ward didn’t roll like that.
I refused to be another casualty.
I was damn determined to not be a statistic.
Gazing up with narrowed eyes, I sniffed hard to clear my nose. I wiped my chin on my sweaty long-sleeved shirt from the Salvation Army dollar bin two blocks over, staining it further. A fire escape loomed above, out of reach from my short arms as my messy chopped hair flopped over and covered my eyes. I would have to cut it again because the thick, dark curls haloed my head like luscious pubes that attracted men quicker than fleas on a dog. Any kind of male attention was a complication I didn’t need. I’d shave my head if it didn’t give Fiona nightmares.
I had plenty of problems, but the rush of a stolen car was better than shoplifting. The high was better than pot, and the adrenaline crash calmed the shit out of my racing thoughts, but I’d never tell a soul.
As for the fire escape, I figured I could reach it by climbing the dumpster. I deliberated the distance I needed to jump up to grab the bar. If I could pull myself up, I could get to the next building and get out onto Lexington Avenue. Then I would circle back slowly to hit up the next bus going home toward South Broad and Clinton Street. If I could just reach the ladder to the escape, I’d be home free.
Behind me, I scanned for the peo
ple chasing me. The street looked clear, but I knew better. It was too quiet. They, or whoever we tried stealing the pretty boy car from, were waiting for me to run out of here. I wasn’t fucking stupid. I might have been born to a substance-numbing Brazilian beauty queen with a dream and a drunk Irish father straight from the shipping yards, but I wasn’t an idiot.
Muttering, I climbed up onto the edge of the dumpster that wobbled under my slight weight. “Okay, here fucking goes nothing.”
I’d be lucky if I didn’t fall and crack my pretty face wide open on the concrete below me. Fortunately, my only audience for failure was a one-eyed cat with a TNR snipped ear nibbling trash a few feet away. Swallowing back the saliva and nausea, I cracked my knuckles and brushed the damp sweat from my palms on my jeans. I needed a good grip to land this jump and some parkour prayers. Forcing the air out of my tight chest, I concentrated on calculating the distance without getting dizzy and my feet slipping.
“I found her!” Shouts and curses filled the alley.
“Fuck me.” I rolled my eyes.
Over my shoulder, four huge men caged me in and blocked my escape. Their footsteps thundered through puddles of piss and oil, and the feral cat darted out, yowling, making one of them trip. They looked like the thugs from my brother’s comic books, all arms and no necks. I knew they’d find me. The climb was dicey, but desperation gave me the strength I needed.
“Pretty bird thinks she’s going to get away.” The bigger one growled and swung his arm up, unable to reach me.
“Don’t shoot her, Derrick. Adam wants this one in one piece.” A guttural laugh from the ugly one had him cocking his gun. I shut my eyes a second before firming my resolve. It was now or never. I didn’t want whoever this Adam guy was to get anywhere near me. He might want me in one piece, but they didn’t specify what or how, and I wasn’t sticking around to find out.
I wanted to punch the thug, but I couldn’t waste time as my body tensed for the jump.
“Tell your boss to go fuck himself,” I screamed, launching myself upward and catching the bar one handed around rough rusted metal that groaned as much as I did. Metal cut my hand. My grip slipped from the blood, and I heard them scrambling to get me. I was going to end up with tetanus after this bullshit, and that pissed me off more than the effort to escape. My legs swung wide when one guy jumped up from the ground to snatch me. His fingers grazed my foot and yanked my shoe off. Damn it. I really liked those Converse Chucks despite the cracked bottom. They were one of the few things I splurged money on when I had it. Duct tape had made it possible to wear them much longer, and now the pair was down to a lonely sole.
“Bitch!” the ugly one yelled.
My shoe fell to the ground in a puddle of stank water and garbage. I hoped the pirate cat had enough sense to stay away.
“Not today, buddy. Not fucking today,” I growled, concentrating my energy on the task ahead.
I pulled myself up as they stood there like idiots, and when I scrambled to the top I peered down. “Fuck off, pervs.”
I spat at them, hitting one on the shoulder. His eyes went wild with fury. I cracked my neck in relief and saluted them with my middle finger in a bouquet full of go-to-hell sentiments.
“You can run, Birdie, but we’ll find you.” He raised his cell phone to his ear with a menacing grin that had me faltering with false bravado.
“Not in my town.”
I gave my final salute, slipped my leg over the open windowsill, and made my getaway through the abandoned building. They yelled as I ran harder, looking for a staircase to reach the roof. If they could get inside the abandoned building, they’d still have to find me. I could elude the best of them, but I only had so many options on top of a roof. I headed up and out toward freedom, ignoring the aches and pains. Newark was my playground, and I’d be damned if I let them take me.
I heard them below me trying to climb faster, but my knowledge of the old crack house had me making better time and more efficient choices. Four more flights up and I found the door to the roof. It was jammed stuck, of course, and I had to muscle what I could, banging against it. This was the closest I’d ever come to getting caught, and I didn’t want to start today. Panic rose knowing I wouldn’t be able to force the door open. Pulling my sleeve over my hand, I punched the window with a superhuman strength born out of desperation.
Glass shattered outward and cut up my sleeve, leaving my arm intact. The latch unlocked and let the window open enough to squeeze through, scratching my back on jagged glass. My bare foot stung after stepping on a piece of broken shit. I didn’t have time to check the damage except to feel the blood seeping and flushing out the garbage with a throbbing pain. I made my way to the edge and found the adjoining building only six feet or so away. I used up my energy on the pep talk below to grab the railing. I wasn’t afraid of heights, but I should’ve been in an effort of self-preservation. It was either jump or get caught. The choice wasn’t something that thrilled me, knowing the drop was easily five stories to the street below; enough to kill me if I fucked this up.
“Don’t do it!” a voice behind called out.
“Stop her!”
“Stubborn little bitch!”
I ignored them and took a wild running start. Each loping stride was a limp from the deep tissue cut in my foot, hindering my speed as I launched and pumped my arms out. It was do or die as I kicked my legs in the air to get the last foot I needed over the edge.
I heard a barking yell, “Damn it!”
I landed in a rolling heap before getting up. New scratches stung my skin, my shirt torn at the shoulder. I turned around in case Dumb and Dumber jumped after me or decided to turn me into target practice. I panted as I got my bearings with a shit-eating grin, my hands resting on my knees to stop the cramp in my side. I’d actually done it. I figured if the pissy one was going to shoot me, he would have done it already.
“Eat a dick, motherfuckers!” I called out, feeling winded and exhilarated.
I winked, giving the dumb twins a double thumbs-up with my middle fingers to mask the pain in my foot.
“You better not let me catch you.” A gravelly voice drew my attention from the current problems I faced.
My brows pinched together, eying up the newcomer to their threesome. He joined them with rapacious, calculated steps crunching over the concrete and tar. Not a hair was out of place on his head. He was dapper, freshly pressed despite the humidity. He was all man like those telenovelas my neighbor blared through our walls during the day. Part of me wanted to shout, Aye, Papi. He regarded me with the same assessing glare I shot right back at him. It took everything in me to remain standing upright when his lips quirked in a wicked grin. He reminded me of the last time I went to church and the priest talked about sin. This man was the very definition of immoral good looks wrapped in a three-piece suit.
I shook my head hoping he wasn’t real as he took a step near the ledge. Like me, he was unafraid as he raised a foot on the cement outcropping. There was an elegant grace to his movements that suggested he could take you out in a single fancy pirouette of dance or death. His arms casually rested on his knee, looking like a dark lion, far too regal, predatory, and mocking. Less than a dozen feet separated us, but I felt his hands itch to grab me across the expanse of the concrete jungle with the way he flexed his fingers. I stepped backward and gritted my teeth. I’d be a fool to show any weakness from my cut-up foot.
His suit accentuated his large, muscular body, and his fat tie made him look like a mobster from the movies. Fancy leather shoes and a silver watch complemented his dark suit, screaming money. The quiet control he exuded vibrated the air around me. He wasn’t out of breath unlike his gorilla lackeys or myself, panting in pain. This man was a force to be reckoned with, and I poked the dragon from his lair. From a distance he was a beautiful specimen of a man, and shame filled me with the first stirrings of attraction in my teen body. This had to be the stolen car’s owner, leaving me fucked six ways to Sunday as his glowing e
merald eyes hinted at a smile filled with dark promises I’d rub out in the shower later—if I made it home at all.
Run. Run, you fucking idiot!
Gulping for oxygen through the throbbing pain, I knew I’d never seen him before today. You didn’t forget a museum quality face as beautiful and sculpted to perfection. The warmth of the afternoon sun did nothing to abate my chill while his presence demanded that I should have known his face.
Our gazes clashed when he spoke again.
“That’s right, remember my face, little one, because I’m going to haunt your dreams.”
He took another hulking step onto the edge of the building where he stood fearlessly. Even the wind wouldn’t dare dislodge him. His fancy shoes hung an inch over the side, but he came no closer. He watched, waiting and unafraid of the fall. If I was God-fearing, I would have thought he was an avenging angel, perhaps Lucifer cast from heaven minus the wings in a three-piece suit. Maybe it was a good thing I had given up on religion because nothing, not even faith would save me now.
Stupidity and bravado fueled my next words. “That’s where you’re wrong. Girls like me don’t have dreams.”
I used my anger to bite down on the ravaging pain in my body. I needed to get the hell out of here.
