The Uprising (GRIT Sector 1 Book 2) Read online

  Copyright © 2016

  Rebecca R Sherwin

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Characters, places, events and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Please do not copy, alter or distribute GRIT Sector 1: The Uprising. By purchasing this content, you agree to abide by copyright laws and will not copy, trade, pirate or replicate any of the content within this book.

  If you have not purchased GRIT Sector 1: The Uprising by Rebecca Sherwin, or it was not purchased for you, please return it to the seller and purchase your own copy.

  You can contact Rebecca via email to [email protected] if you have any questions or concerns.

  Thank you.

  Warning:

  GRIT Sector 1: The Uprising is a dark romance.

  It contains scenes some readers may find disturbing, and events throughout the story will make some readers uncomfortable.

  If you haven’t read GRIT Sector 1: Elias, please do so before continuing.

  “You can’t sell dreams to someone who has walked through nightmares.”

  Unknown

  1986

  Present

  Six Months Earlier

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Forty-Four

  Forty-Five

  Forty-Six

  Forty-Seven

  Forty-Eight

  Forty-Nine

  Fifty

  Fifty-One

  Fifty-Two

  Sneak Peek: GRIT Sector 1: The Revolution

  Acknowledgements

  Other Titles

  Sneak Peek: Butterfly

  The car raced along the motorway, heading towards the city. The emerging barricades could be seen from miles outside the capital. The walls grew day by day; first by foundation, then by steel and brick, and now, finally, the stilts and reinforced structures were undergoing the cement-treatment. The final stage of the lock-down had begun.

  He couldn’t get there quick enough. He’d received the call while on business in the Midlands. He’d ended the meeting, growled like the animal he was, and torn from the glass building that should have done more to conceal the conversations and arrangements that occurred inside its crystal-clear walls.

  The low-petrol warning beeped at him with the flashing light that had been yellow, then orange, and now it was an angry red that told him time was running out. He wouldn’t make it. He had to make it. If he didn’t, there would be trouble. So much trouble. So much blood. Screams. Cries.

  Silence.

  Pressing down on the accelerator, he prayed he’d make it home before it happened; before he lost control, and life slipped away from him. This was his only hope. It had happened before; devastation had found him three years ago and he couldn’t allow it to happen again. The fear already ripped at him, forcing his heart to pound to a heavy, uneven beat that made him grip the wheel tighter and swerve into the next lane to overtake the car in front.

  He couldn’t be late. He couldn’t miss this. It was what he’d been waiting for since the last time. He didn’t fear the blood; he didn’t despair over the thought of the screams. He didn’t hate the idea of pain. He didn’t care; as long as in the end, history hadn’t repeated itself—just this once.

  He pulled into the driveway, left the car running and ticking as it ran out of gas and had no choice but to lull itself into a dull slumber. Ominous? Perhaps. Foreboding? He didn’t think about it. He ran up the steps and tore into the house, calling out and waiting for the answer that would give him the location and provide him with the tethers he’d need to be there in time. He’d made it. He hadn’t been late. The cry wasn’t necessary. He heard screaming. Heavy breaths. A team of people using comforting voices and offering support knowing it would do nothing. Pain. Not just physical, but the mental anguish of someone who just wanted it all to end. Screams. Not just screams of agony for the searing heat tearing through a body, but with fear of the future the outcome promised. It promised everything. Glory. Revenge. Integrity. Trust…he had to trust that this was the answer. That it hadn’t happened once, but twice. That he’d fulfilled the destiny that needed to be grabbed and seized and protected against all contenders.

  Another scream. A wail so loud and feral, it pierced his ears, shook the windows of the house, and the ground beneath its foundations. He climbed the steps two at a time and propelled himself through the door into the bedroom.

  Blood.

  Gushing and trickling and pouring like the heavens had opened in preparation for the new arrival. She was on the bed, chin to her chest, legs shoved in stirrups that hoisted her knees to her ears and kept her held open for the team to investigate. Investigate they did, while they poked and prodded her stretching vagina. They pushed on her stomach in an effort to twist and untangle. They held her down, forcing every one of her muscle contractions to focus on the widening cervix and purging womb. It was almost time. It was almost over.

  Dark eyes met his and he nodded.

  He’d made a mistake. A fatal mistake that had, for a while, threatened everything…but he had found a way to fix it, just like he’d promised.

  The child would be born. Any second now, it would make its entrance into the world and he would allow himself just a few seconds to bathe in the pride being a father fed him. His ego would inflate. His heart would swell until it threatened to explode and spray blood around the bedroom to show them all what he’d done.

  He’d taken the risk. He’d taken what he’d wanted. He’d made a mistake and threatened them all, but he’d corrected it. He’d fixed his mistake. His mind was filled with the images of having a child. How proud he would be to know he’d created life.

  My heels clicked on the floor, the knee-length leather boots keeping my legs warm as my skirt rode higher with each step and the silk blouse caressed my bare nipples.

  I wasn't afraid. I was prepared. The darkness swamped me, the eerie silence of the street consuming me as I scanned my surroundings for danger. I'd see them coming; I'd hear them and smell them and feel them. I had the instincts of a tiger and I'd know when it was time to strike. My husband had taught me well, and my traitor of a father had given me ammunition only I could use.

  I continued along the street, slipping the alien jacket off and tossing it behind me.

  It was seduction of madness. It was provocation of the psychopaths of the underground. They'd come for me, and I'd let them; I’d let them take me; it was part of the plan.

  I heard the whispers. I heard those who walked among us in the daylight bargaining over who would get to make sure I'd never see the sun
again. I smiled. It was coming.

  There was a scrape behind me, a high pitched squeal from my right, and a cackle sounded out from one of the roads ahead of me.

  I heard the three monsters in the back of the truck laughing as they watched me walk to my death.

  Someone grabbed my ankles and pulled me onto my back. My head hit the ground with a crack and I felt the blood seep from the wound. Stars danced in my vision as a knockout took over, two hands grabbed my arms, a set of teeth sank into my neck and two more calloused hands tore my legs apart...

  "Trixie?"

  Elias approached me cautiously as I stood over the body of my parents' murderer. His blood seeped into my dress and stuck to my skin. Blood dripped from my fingertips as I held the shards of glass in a death grip; I didn't know if the blood was his or mine and, at this point, I didn't care.

  I was numb.

  I was hollow.

  I had nothing.

  "Trixie?" Elias called again, placing his hand on my shoulder.

  My lungs shuddered with the need to draw a breath but I couldn't. I couldn't inhale the stench of death and I couldn't breathe in the reality of what I'd done. I took a step away from him, the bottom of my dress smearing evidence and DNA over the ground. The killer laid slumped in the corner, his eyes closed, face relaxed.

  I shouldn't have killed him. He should have been made to suffer.

  I should have been made to suffer. But I didn't care enough to ask Elias to punish me.

  "It's our wedding night," I said, dropping the fragments of the photo frame to the floor. "It's our wedding night."

  "Baby..."

  "Don't baby me."

  "Ashford."

  "I hate that fucking word," I spat, my eyes fixed on the body. I couldn't look at my husband. I refused to look at his reaction to what I’d done. "If I weren't an Ashford, I wouldn't have had the right to do that."

  "You did the right thing."

  "Did I?"

  "Yes. It was his life or yours."

  "I'm glad I'm of such high value."

  "You're priceless, Trixie. How long do you think you'd have lived before it ate you alive? Tore you up inside until you snapped?"

  "It would have been my choice."

  Elias said nothing, but I felt his hands on me. He felt hot against the cold that had swooped in and stole my warmth as I'd sacrificed my innocence.

  "What will happen to him?"

  "He'll be disposed of."

  Just like that. A life ended, body discarded, past, present, and future wiped from existence.

  Just like mine. I was a killer. I deserved to suffer the same fate.

  "One day I'll tell you, but tonight is not the time."

  Elias, my husband, the man I had signed my life over to just hours ago, turned me to look at him.

  "What can I do?" he asked.

  He could have erased time. He could have made this version of himself present before I'd taken a life, to persuade me not to do it.

  "What's your reaction?" I asked.

  My voice was dead, like our company. It held no vitality, no hope, and very little emotion. I had nothing to give.

  "You really want to know?" I nodded. Elias edged me back to the wall. "I'm proud of you. You've taken revenge that was yours to claim. We all have to make sacrifices to claim the throne, and now you can be my queen and know you have the strength to do this."

  "You made me do it."

  "I didn't smash the frame. I didn't pick up the pieces and-"

  "Stop!"

  He did, quickly. I wondered why he was so content with closing his mouth when I usually had no power. I felt like I had all the power now, but I didn't want it.

  "Red suits you," he said, stroking his thumb over my cheek and gathering up the splatters of blood. "I've never seen you look so..."

  "So what?"

  "Divine." What a fine fucking word to use. "Animalistic. Historical. Contemporary...delicious."

  He dipped his head and his tongue, hot and wet and strong, touched my cheek and slid to my lips. I sighed, my eyes rolling closed as Elias licked my mouth. I parted my lips on instinct and he wasted no time in slipping inside me, feeding me his pride and extracting my emptiness. How could he take away something I didn't have? I gasped, drowning in his desire and trying with all I had to match it. I tried parting my legs, arching my back so the thick thread of his suit jacket stroked the smooth silk of my tarnished dress. I gripped his hair, I pulled him closer, I growled like a fucking monster.

  "Not enough?" He spoke into my mouth as his hands moved between us to rip the straps of my dress so he could tug it down over my breasts.

  I shook my head and clawed at him for more. I needed to see how he did it. I needed him to teach me to bathe in the evil I'd tried so hard to reject. I'd taken a life so easily, so quickly...so seductively.

  There was seduction in darkness. There was power in death. There was a world of wealth within my grasp because I could eradicate the invaluable.

  Elias nipped at my lips as his hands pulled my dress down my waist, over my hips and let it pool at the floor by my feet. I shivered, feeling cold from the purity I'd lost and the lust I couldn't muster when I needed it. He bit harder, sucking my lip into his mouth and cupping my face.

  "No," I said, pushing him away and gasping for breath. "Like this."

  I turned around, placed my hands on the wall and took a step back to bend at the waist and press myself into his growing erection.

  "You don't want to look at me?"

  "I don't want you to look at me," I confessed, closing my eyes and placing my cheek on the cold stone. "I want you to take me..." I reached behind me to grip my ass and part my cheeks as I stroked myself over his cock. "Here. Like this. I want you to come inside me."

  "Trixie..."

  "Just do it," I growled, feeling powerless. If he wanted me he could take me. If I wanted him to fuck me, I had to beg him until he gave in. I wouldn't think about the power that sparked like electricity between us. I wanted it, but he held it.

  There was a pause where I said nothing and he didn't voice his concerns. He stepped away from me but before making me ask again, plead with him to give me what I needed—I would have, without a doubt, with just one word from him—I heard his belt buckle and zip. I heard his trousers drop to the floor and I listened as he kicked his shoes off and removed them. I jumped when his hands covered mine and squeezed. We opened me up together and I gasped when Elias dropped to the floor behind me and rewarded me with a gentle, intoxicating lick. He moaned against my flesh as he moistened the tight hole, easing his tongue to relax the muscles. Finally, I felt something, unable to see him, but physically feeling his presence everywhere that had a blood supply. My pussy took on a heavy ache and I clenched against his tongue, involuntarily refusing an intrusion I wanted desperately.

  "Please," I whispered, as his finger probed me. I threw my head back when he sank in further, until I felt his knuckle against me, his other fingers ghosting over my clit to make me shudder.

  "It won't be nice."

  "I don't care."

  "It will hurt. I haven't got anything to use to make it...easier."

  "I don't care," I repeated.

  "This is what you really want, Ashford?" he asked, making me growl when he reminded me who I was. "You really want me to fuck you in the ass? Here? Now?"

  "Yes. For fuck’s sake, I want it."

  I felt a second finger force its entry and my back arched as I tried to accept him. How I'd take his cock and withstand his aggressive thrusts I didn't know, but the thought sent another ripple of desire to my core. Elias used it as lubricant, smearing me with the wetness only he could create and gradually I relaxed, opened for him, and already my body was building towards release. My nipples felt heavy and sensitive exposed to the cold air and my breasts throbbed to be touched. I gripped one, pinching my nipples between my fingers and looking over my shoulder at my husband.

  "Don't be ashamed," he said with a smile and
a glance down that brought my attention to his hand stroking his cock as he readied my ass for it. "Touch yourself for me."

  I eased back into his fingers as he picked up a rhythm, in and out in slow, twisting movements. I moaned and closed my eyes, licking my lips before I looked at him again. I loved seeing him on his knees behind me, watching everything he did to my body and reacting in a way that made my knees week. He was so hard, a magical lust burning in his crystal eyes before he dipped lower and kissed me, just next to his fingers. I felt everything tighten when his mouth touched me before he spat on his fingers and eased his saliva inside me.

  Standing up, he slipped out of me and gripped my hips. I watched him bend his knees as he stroked me with his cock, making me whimper for more.

  "Tell me to stop and I'll stop," he warned.

  He'd done his before. I hadn't. I'd never felt a man in the one place I'd always promised to never let anyone go. But right now I needed it. I needed to cross the line and this was how I wanted it.

  "Don't stop," I demanded. "Even if I ask you to."

  "Ashford..."

  "Find the sadist. I don't want this Elias."

  I hated him for what he'd made me do. It was easier to hate a man who would rape me with no thought, push me past my limits without caring about my pain...this nice Elias would break me.

  He'd break me.

  My husband said nothing, continuing to massage and relax me with firm fingers, priming me for penetrating with his thick, hard cock. I choked on an inhale when the tip of him pushed past my barriers, and he stilled, gripping my hips and stopping me from pushing back on him.

  "Damage is irreversible," he growled. "Calm the fuck down."

  I shivered. I loved his anger, thrived on his aggression and craved his power. He pushed in a little further and I threw my head back, parting my lips as my breath caught in my throat. It hurt so good. It felt so awfully pleasurable. It shouldn't have felt so good—not when I needed punishing. I felt my body accept the intrusion as Elias continued easing into me until he was sheathed in my ass. He stilled again, stroking one firm hand up my spine to arch my back and bend me lower.