Amo Jones
One Hundred and Thirty-Six Scars
The Devil’s Own Book One
By Amo Jones
Copyright 2016 Amo Jones
This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Note: This story is not suitable for persons under the age of 18.
*Potential triggers lie within this book.
** This book is gritty and contains dark content.
***If the word “fuck” offends you, please don’t read this book.
Book design and formatting by Swish Design & Editing
Editing by Swish Design & Editing
Proofing by Fiona Dreaming – Proofreading and Formatting
Cover design by Francessca’s Romance Reviews
Model: Mandy Hollis from MHPhotography
Copyright 2016
Meadow
I was four years old when I learned what evilness the world could bring. I fought through life with my scarred soul, wrangled through the dark empty nights where I’d pray I didn’t wake up the next morning. I would shut my eyes and mentally take myself to my happy place.
Red roses.
The sound of waves crashing on the sand under my feet.
The final time the cold blade pushed up against my thigh, and I waited for my blood to trickle over the other one hundred and thirty-six scars that covered my skin— never came. Who was this man who just saved me? He had no idea how close I came to ending myself that day. I was ready to blow my brains all over the bedroom walls and I had a nine sitting under my pillow to prove it.
Beast
Some people have families, I had engineered human killing machines surrounding me my whole life. I’d been a part of this unit since I was a baby, raised in a community that was shut off from the real world. A community where we were nothing but empty vessels, until Hella (my best friend) and I escaped. Hella took us to a girl who was in foster care with him before he was summoned into The Army. After finding out yet another complication in my life, I needed space. I booked into a run-down apartment, ready to clear my head. Only my head didn’t clear, because I was haunted every night from the screams that would vibrate through my walls.
This is not a story of a perfect man coming in to save the day. This is a story of what happens when fate interferes and two completely broken souls collide.
*Potential triggers lie within this book.
** This book is gritty and contains dark content.
Stephen James.
You’re a great guy, but I’m practically married so I think we should just be friends.
—Just kidding, call me.
Simon – My partner in crime, the Clyde to my Bonnie, and the love of my life. I could not have done all of this without your undying support. I love you so much. Always and Forever.
My four terrors – Without you four, mummy might not have picked up that wine, and if I didn’t pick up that wine, then I might not have thought to write my first book. To living on quick meals and a robot of a mum as I finished up a project, you kids are amazing and although you drive me nuts, there’s not a bone in my body that doesn’t love the shit out of you. You were all worth the long ass labours.
Isis Te Tuhi – a novel wouldn’t be enough words to say how much I’m grateful for your sexy existence. You’re my number one critique and my number one bitch face. I love you. The original Mrs Finlay. — Oops, I wrote it. Oh well, this is my party and we’ll sing if we want to. #distanceaintshit
Kaylene Osborn — where editor—meets friend—meets second mum—meets “God you bitches drive me nuts,” because I do—drive you crazy, I mean. Thank you, for tolerating my shit. You’re the first person I run to when I have an issue or when I need a shoulder to cry on. Thank you, I gas arc the shit out of you.
Kat Fenton (Kitty Kats Crazy About Books) — Two words = you’re amazing. Thank you for reviewing my first book (No really… I think ‘thank you’ just doesn’t cut it. Maybe I should have bought you glasses after reading my debut book) and then reviewing every one after that. Thank you for your honest words and support. I’ll gladly take a frying pan in the face from you.
My Betas — (Anne Malcom, Isis Te Tuhi, Addison Jane, Kimberly E Osborn, Andrea Florkowski, Heidy Marie, Kaci Stewart, Kathy Bargiacchi)— you lovely ladies that take the time out of your busy lives to study my words, I thank you.
Addison Jane — my favourite club girl, the first person to show me the way in the indie world. For the secrets you’ve shared, the endless support, and our crazy banter.
Kimberly Osborn — my favourite Steel. Thank you for telling my crazy ass to calm down when it needed to be told, thank you for your patience with my lack of Photoshop skills, and thank you for just being your beautiful self.
Kori Toth-Gray — #1 Pimp. I’ll forever be grateful for all the time you put into pimping my work. You rock my shit.
Bloggers — I hold the utmost respect for you all. Everything you do for authors, reading and reviewing, I appreciate all that you do.
Last but not least, I thank all my amazing, supportive readers. I would not be here writing books if it weren’t for your kind words and reviews. You are what keeps me going and you are what matters to me.
Blurb
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Table of Contents
Preface
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Epilogue
Playlist
Connect With Me Online
About the Author – Amo Jones
I never thought too much into what I would do the next time I laid my eyes on the dark knight who swept into my life like a bandit of good deeds—my own saving grace. Would I run? Would I pound him with questions that I’m not sure I want to know the answers for? Women would talk of people saving their lives all the time at the meetings I would attend. They’d say things like, “He was a doctor, he saved my life,” or, “The man who saved me, he was the light in my tunnel of darkness.” I couldn’t refer to my encounter as either of those. My knight was not ?
??lovely’ nor was he ‘the light in my tunnel of darkness.’ My knight was darkness, and like fighting fire with fire—I fought darkness with darkness.
My name is Meadow, and this is my story.
I knew exactly what I would do the next time—if I ever—saw the girl whose screams would vibrate through the run down walls of my apartment during the night. I never knew if they were screams coming from sleep, or screams tearing out from the awakened. But did it matter? The desperation in those screams pierced me like a sharply angled dagger, my very own personal weakness. Like Wolfsbane was to a werewolf or a stake to a vampire. I live in a world where werewolves and vampires don’t exist—daggers or wolfsbane couldn’t put my demons to rest. Because I don’t just have them, I am them. What I’ve endured, has morphed what could have been an innocent child and successful adult, into a demonic creature that even the people who created it, feared. The darkness has been surrounding me for so long, that it’s now the only way I can see.
This is what happens when fate interferes and two completely broken souls collide.
My name is Beast, or commonly known as Agent 316, and this is my story.
Beginning
Four-Years-Old
“It’s father’s day tomorrow, so I want all of you to draw a pretty picture of something that reminds you of your dad. Anything at all. It can be what he does for work, what he makes you feel like. Anything. I want to see all your pretty pictures.”
Hmmm, I thought to myself, I wanted to love my daddy. I wanted to know what he’d done for fun. I wanted him to make me happy and cheerful. I’ve seen what other daddies do for their children, but mine didn’t do that. He didn’t throw me into the air then catch me as I came down. He didn’t carry me on his shoulders while taking me out for ice-cream. I thought over what my daddy does and how it made me feel. Taking hold of the black crayon, I began to draw…
“Meadow,” my teacher gasped, her hand slowly moving up to her mouth. She kneeled down beside me, pointing to the picture while still making sure no other children could see it.
“Meadow, honey, what is this that you have drawn here?”
My mouth froze at the look that was pulled over her face. I wanted to tell her what it was, but I was confused. I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong. She asked me to draw a picture of something that reminds me of my father, so I did.
“Did I do it wrong?” I asked my teacher, tears welling behind my sockets.
She squeezed my shoulders, forcing a smile to come out. “No honey, you didn’t do anything wrong.” I relaxed instantly. I didn’t want to do wrong, I wanted to do good. She stood from her position, the picture falling from her fingers, revealing a dark shadow-like figure covering a single bed.
Beginning
Fourteen Years-Old
Three years later
Running wasn’t my favorite thing to do, and considering the size of me, I always tried my hardest to stay away from it. But in this case, I had no other way. With my legs heavy and my chest tight, I looked back as the sound of gunshots rang out and pierced through my ears.
“He’s over here! Follow that trail!” one of the sergeants yelled from far behind me. I turned my head back in front of me, carrying on my run. Jumping over the large logs of fallen trees, I dropped behind a boulder that was sitting under a tree, attempting to gather my breath. Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I thought over my options. I can’t go back there. I could never go back there. I should… I told Jada to come but she didn’t listen. She wanted to stay, promising me she wouldn’t say a word. But how do the guards know I’m out? I stood from where I was sitting, placing one foot in front of the other preparing myself to jolt forward.
“Don’t fucking move,” Sergeant Major Kurr’s low, commanding voice rumbled from behind me. I didn’t have to look to know there was also a gun aimed at my back. I’m fucked. That’s it! This was my seventh escape attempt and I’d been caught—again. I knew what was to come. I knew what they were going to do with me when I went back and I’d rather die. Squaring my shoulders while keeping my attention fixed on the large tree in front of me, I kept my eyes trained on the bark that was peeling off it, revealing the glossy white wood underneath.
“Fuck. You,” I replied snarkily with a curled lip.
A single gunshot rang out at the exact moment a sharp, heavy sting collided into my leg, causing me to drop to the ground in agony. I was hoping they would at least shoot me in the head, getting it over with faster.
“Pick him up!” Kurr demanded, aiming his Heckler & Koch FABARM FP6 into my face with a smirk.
Tsking, he knelt down beside me. “Agent 316, what are we going to do with you this time?”
My eyes squeezed shut as tears pricked from the side of them. No, no, please. I don’t want to go back there. “Just kill me!” I screamed from the dirt and blood covered ground. “Fucking kill me!” I roared one last time. A steel capped military boot was lifted over my face as the bottom stomped down and connected with my cheek with a crack, knocking me out cold.
I don’t fear death. Oh no, I welcomed it. After living in this world all my life, being engineered for an undercover operation like The Army that was branched off by our government, I had no choice but to run and maybe one day, I’d make it out alive.
“Beast? Beast wake up!” The urgency of Jada’s tone shocked my system awake like a bucket of ice cold water.
“Jada? What happened?” I said, pulling myself up with my elbows, but the deep throbbing of my head prove it be best I stayed down. “Fuck, what?” I rubbed my hand over my head, eyes creased. “They didn’t kill me?”
Jada shook her head. “No, you need to stay there, don’t move. You broke another commandment, Beast. You’re in danger, and you’ve put me in danger. Please, just lay back down.” I closed my eyes, pushing out all thoughts of Jada in danger. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, looking away from her. “I’m fucking sorry, but I needed to leave.”
“We all want to leave, Beast. You can’t just keep running.”
A dull squeak sounded from the metal door which enclosed the cages that they kept us in when one of us would break a commandment. They’ve always taken their commandments seriously, I just liked pushing the boundaries. And if I got free, the punishment was always going to be worth it. Jada’s eyes shot up to the sound before she ducked under the metal bed that they kept me on, sliding over the metal plate that laid underneath where they would keep the utensils.
“Beast,” Kurr, the sergeant major said from beside my bed. He runs the operation, the person he was under was the government itself. This fucker had the nerve though, the shit he’d put us through, I lived for the day that I could put those black depths to sleep once and for all.
Bending down, bringing his face level to mine, he smiled. “You just never learn do you, 316? Maybe…” he pulled out his silver and gold switchblade which had Chief engraved onto the base—I was all too familiar with this knife, he and I were on first name basis, “…I should just, slide…” he trailed off pressing the cold metal under my ear and slowly sliding it down my neck. The cold air piercing into the wound like salt. Once the sting disappeared, it left the dripping and trickling of wetness sliding down the back of my neck. I knew it was bad.
“There, much better.” He laughed, putting the blade back into the back pocket of his suit pants.
“One hundred mills of Schyronide, Robert. Put the Beast to sleep.”
“No, no. No more fucking Schyronide,” I screamed as the two sets of large hands gripped me around my shoulders, pinning me down to the bed.
“This won’t hurt, Beast. You’re all too used to it by now.” Robert laughed, bringing the sharp silver needle down to my temple. Like every time this happened, the pain shot through me for the worst three seconds I’d ever felt until my world went black.
“Say it, Beast. What is the fifth commandment?” Brian, the second chief commander’s voice came blaring through my ears. My wrists stung as if bracelets of fire were pulled arou
nd them, and once I peeled my eyes open, it was more than obvious why my wrists were the first thought that crossed my mind once I awoke. I was hanging by my wrists only and wearing nothing but my jeans.
A sharp pain sliced through my left shoulder blade and a scream roared out of me until my breath couldn’t take anymore.
“Say it!” Brian repeated after whipping the long leather slit across my back.
“Thy shall not escape,” I answered with a snarl. Pulling myself in, I began to recite the six commandments in my head as the punishment continued…
Commandment 1 – Thy shall not speak of any activities that are conducted on the premises under any circumstances.
Commandment 2 – Thy shall not participate in any sexual activities unless approved by Sergeant Major Kurr.
Commandment 3 – Thy shall not speak to outsiders.
Commandment 4 – Thy shall not dishonor or disobey orders given to thy by Sergeant Major Kurr.
Commandment 5 – Thy shall not escape.
Commandment 6 – Thy shall not repeat to any persons what thy experiences are while being held in the dungeon.
By oath, you are solemnly swearing your loyalty and respect toward The Army and you pledge to live out the rest of your days serving under the Agent number you have been assigned.
If you break any of the rules stated above, your punishments will be as Sergeant Commissioner Kurr sees fit. This is The Army, not to be confused with the army with soldiers and marines. This is the genetic version. We aim to breed an army of men that we can use as weaponry. We will breed you to fight, to kill, and to train in all ways of fight: arms, combat, sword, jujitsu, and the power of a patient man. We will break you, shake you, and bleed you out until you have nothing left to give. And then just when you think you’ve given up and that you don’t want to live anymore—we will create you as one of our own. Your Agent number that is stamped behind your neck is a code to live by. It will give you meaning and purpose. The meaning of hate and the purpose to kill.