Reckless Rebel (Black Hallows Book 4) Read online

  Reckless Rebel

  Black Hallows Book Four

  G.N. Wright

  Lost causes are the only ones worth fighting for.

  Clarence Darrow

  Contents

  Foreword

  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

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by G.N. Wright

  Copyright © 2022 G.N. WRIGHT All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the authors imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons and things living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  COVER DESIGN: Outlined with Love Designs

  EDITOR: Samantha Bee

  Created with Vellum

  This is dedicated to anyone who feels lost or lonely.

  Don't worry your person is out there.

  Ride or die.

  Foreword

  This book is a dark romance.

  It contains scenes of explicit sex, drug and alcohol abuse and struggles with addiction. There are also strong themes of struggling with mental health such as, but not limited to anxiety, PTSD and attempted suicide.

  If you would like to discuss any of these themes or ask any questions about the content, please do not hesitate to reach out to me for clarification before reading.

  Email - [email protected]

  Instagram - @authorgnwright

  Facebook Readers Group - GN Wright’s Rebels

  Prologue

  ELEVEN YEARS OLD

  JACE

  You’d think with the smell being constant, I’d get used to it, but I don’t think you can ever get used to the smell of stale piss. My parents are passed out on the sofa of our cramped trailer. Again. It shouldn’t still hurt me, but it does. They don’t care about me, they never have. The only person in this world who cares about me is my big sister Rachel. I feel her presence behind me as she sighs taking in the same scene I am.

  But she doesn’t linger like I do, “Come on, let’s go.” She nudges me until I follow her out of the trailer, giving one last look at my creators unconscious on the sofa before I turn my back on them.

  “Where are we going?” It’s Sunday, we don’t have school today, and it’s not like we have any money to go anywhere. Hell, I haven’t even eaten since yesterday morning.

  As if reading my mind, Rachel pulls a Twinkie out of her backpack and hands it to me. It’s a little crushed and most likely stolen, but anything is better than nothing, and Twinkies are practically a food group for us.

  I mutter a thanks and then swallow it whole as she leads us towards the back of our shitty trailer park, slipping through a gap in the fence. We don’t talk much as I follow her into the trees that surround us here. I know she likes to come into the woods to escape, to pretend, even just for an hour, that our life isn’t a fucking shit show. I thank the gods everyday that I have Rachel, because without her I wouldn’t know the meaning of love or family.

  I still don’t know where we are going, but I continue to follow her. I’m not sure how long we walk for, but I start to get tired, my steps slowing down as Rachel adjusts hers to match them.

  We walk slowly for another ten minutes or so before she finally starts to pick up her pace as the trees start breaking. “Come on,” she squeals in such a light-hearted way, unlike her usual manner. “You are going to love it!”

  Rachel rushes off towards the opening and I dart after her, almost crashing into her as she comes to a stop, and when she steps aside I see why.

  “See.” She holds her hand out gesturing to the beautiful waterfall before us, and I hear the intake of my own breath. “Sometimes you’ve just got to get a little lost to find what you’re looking for.”

  I’ve never seen anything so beautiful, the green of the trees, the rocky formation, the gushing water. All of it creating a scene so tranquil that if I died right here and now, it wouldn’t hurt so much.

  “I know things are bad right now,” she whispers, putting her hand in mine, and I break my gaze and bring it to her. “But it won’t always be like this, Jace. I promise, things are going to change.” Her hazel eyes burn into mine as she makes her declaration, and for once, I believe her.

  She was right, things did change, but they didn’t get better, they just got much, much worse. The only light I ever knew was taken from me and I don’t think I will ever get it back.

  1

  Jace

  I wrap her hair around my fist as I shove my cock deeper down her throat. Her blond hair. Never black. She moans like a Pornstar and the fakeness almost ruins it for me, almost. I close my eyes and block it out. Concentrating only on how she lets me fuck her mouth like a champ, hitting the back of her throat with every thrust. This is the only time I feel something. When my dick is being sucked, or I’m slamming balls deep inside some nameless blond. Never black. But it isn’t pleasure I feel, it’s guilt. Pure, fucking, unfiltered grief. I’m here, and she’s not. I’m alive, and she’s dead.

  That feeling is the only thing that makes me feel alive these days, so I chase the penance anywhere I can get it. I drink too much, smoke too much, fight too much, and fuck too much. No longer a playboy, just a whore of my own making, getting my vice fix anyway I can. They say it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. But what happens when you didn’t love, but still lost? Does it still count? Fuck knows.

  I force my cock to the back of her mouth chasing my sweet, sick relief. Her tongue glides along the underside of my shaft, and just like always, Taylor's face flashes to the front of my mind. Her green vacant eyes staring into mine. I can't bear the sight. I grab the nameless girl on either side of her head and start to fuck her face with quick deep thrusts. The tears on her cheeks, the sound of her choking, and the feel of her warm, wet mouth, get me to where I need to be as I spill myself down her throat.

  The delicious high of coming burns with the decadent relief of shame. I stumble back as the guilt takes over my whole being once more. What the fuck am I doing? What would Taylor think if she could see me now?

  What a pathetic playboy.

  I don’t even speak to the girl as I turn and walk away, not even bothering to fasten up my jeans. I just leave her there on her knees, with my come dripping down her chin, and my guilt clouding everything. I ignore her wasted protests as I storm out of the room, I got what I came for. I make my way down the stairs and out of the party. Swiping another bottle of Jack and a stash of weed as I leave. I keep walking, deeper into the night, and don’t stop until I reach the old tracks. This is the only place my mind can know any peace these days. Everywhere else is just so loud.

  I drop onto the gravel, taking comfort in the deserted, ruined, abandoned, station. It’s exactly how I feel. Wrecked and alone. I toss back two Oxy, swilling them down with the amber liquid, and then snort a line, before finally rolling a joint. Filling my body with anything that will numb the void inside of me, but just like always, none of it works. How can I feel everything and nothing at the same time? How can I feel her pain, hear her cries, and feel her blood seeping into my skin, but I can’t feel the loss of her? I mean I barely fucking knew her, yet she is now part of me forever.

  I don’t know how long I sit here, but my self-induced train wreck plays out in my mind over and over, until I don’t feel anything but regret. I take a deep drag of the joint in my hand as I contemplate how the fuck I got here. Staring up into the abyss of the night sky, wishing that the billion fucking stars up there could rewrite history.

  “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  Greg Donovan's sick words and smug smile never leave my mind, even after I planted a bullet into his skull. That didn't help, it didn't make up for what he did to Taylor, or Rachel, and the revenge of it barely crosses my mind. No. Instead it's the look of pure terror in Taylor’s eyes as the blade of his knife slit across her throat. The scream Elle let ou
t as she watched her friend drop down and die. The color of her blood as it sprayed across the floor. All of it is engraved into my brain forever.

  The gravel bites into my skin as I lean back on my hands. The wind blasting over me, each gust more bitter than the last, but I barely feel it. I don’t feel anything, not anymore. I hear the crunch of gravel under someone's foot and I know from experience that a member of my family has found me. Not that they could ever lose me, after everything we went through together with the Donovans, we are never far from one another.

  “Pretty Boy.” Elle’s voice hits me, and I know I’m in real trouble if my brothers are sending her.

  “Queenie,” I respond on instinct, but it doesn’t hold the same substance as it once did. I failed Taylor, but I failed Elle even more. When she needed me most, I did nothing. I just stood by while she was preparing to marry that sick piece of shit. How can she even fucking look at me? I toss back more of the warm Jack and relish in the burn.

  She flashes me a grim smile, before plonking herself down next to me, holding out her hand for the bottle. I reluctantly pass it over and she takes a sip as she eyes my once again busted knuckles. I spent the first half of my night pummelling my fists into anyone that would take me on. Even half-tanked, none of them got the better of me. They don’t have the darkness driving them like I do.

  “I went to The Ring first,” she says tiredly, not taking her eyes from my hands. “They said you’d come and gone.” From her tone, it’s clear this song and dance we have been doing these last few months is draining her. You and me both Queenie.

  “How’d you know I’d be here?” I mean it’s not like it’s a secret that I come here to think, and this isn’t the first time a member of my family has found me here. But still, I wonder how she knew to come here.

  She smiles slightly, but it doesn’t reach those baby blue eyes of hers. “You think I don’t know you by now, Jace Conrad,” she huffs a laugh. “I know all your secrets,” she teases lightly, before lowering her voice and adding, “Too many of them.” She frowns slightly when she says the word secrets, and then knocks back more of the whiskey, grimacing as it goes down.

  Elle King is the fucking epitome of beauty. Blue eyes, blond hair, sinful fucking curves, and a smile that could light up the world. My brother Marcus is a lucky man. He got everything he always wanted and he got it with his best friend. I’ve never met a pair of people who are more meant to be than they are. The day she walked back into his life and came into mine, is a day that changed everything forever. I wish I could be happy for them, wish I could feel the kind of things they feel. But it’s not in the cards for me. I’m broken. Internally bleeding without a cure. Just waiting for my penance to finally come and claim me.

  I couldn't protect them. I failed Rachel, I failed Taylor, and I failed Elle. If it wasn't for my brothers she would have ended up with the same fate. Yet do they punish me? Do they blame me? No. It's worse than that. They love me, accept me, fucking worship the tainted ground I walk on, even with all the fucking bullshit I pull. They remain forever there for me no matter what. I hate it.

  "Jace.” Elle’s soft tone cuts into my inner pity party. "We need to talk."

  No good ever comes from hearing those four words. "Not really in the mood to talk right now, Princess." I slip into using my old nickname for her, and then cringe when I remember how Greg Donovan used it as a taunt in his games. If it affected her, she doesn't show it. She's stronger than I am. Everyone’s stronger than I am.

  "It's been five months,” she whispers into the night, like she can't bear to remember. I don't blame her. "I'm worried about you,” she adds on, and I wish her love could make me feel something.

  "I know exactly how long it's been." My tone is bitter, but I can't help it. I know she understands what I went through, she was there, but she doesn't understand my pain and regret. No one does.

  She sighs deeply, sliding her hand into mine and forcing my fingers to close around hers. She does that a lot, seeks me out to offer me physical comfort, like she can sense when I'm close to the edge, and I need pulling back. I'm pretty sure her and Cassie are the only things keeping me here. If it weren't for them I would have left, run, and never looked back, just to escape the ghosts that haunt me.

  "I'm sorry,” I sigh, she doesn't deserve my shitty attitude.

  "You don't ever need to apologize to me, Jace. I just want to know you're okay,” she replies softly.

  I want to give her the answer she wants, the one I know she is waiting for. To tell her and my brothers that I'm okay, that I'm ready to move on and join them in the land of the living again, but I can't. I'm not ready. I don't think I will ever be ready.

  The remaining cocaine in my jeans burns a hole through my pocket, taunting me, knowing just how desperate I am for that next hit. I need to block out her words and the memories she is invoking in me. Any high is better than all my fucking lows.

  "It's late, you should head home." I try, but she is having none of my shit tonight.

  "I'm not leaving until you do,” she snaps swiftly with a smile, turning to me. “And trust me, I'll stay here all night if I have to." Her hand feels so small and delicate in mine, yet I know it's anything but. That hand has taken down more men than you'd ever imagine. Her body count is higher than most, and we all bear the scars of those sick men she obliterated.

  She knocks back more of the Jack, before passing the bottle back to me. I take the last two gulps and then throw the bottle to the tracks and watch it smash to pieces. The shattered glass may as well represent the jagged pieces of my heart.

  "Come on, Jace, let's go home. Please." She stands, offering me her hand. I stare at it in silence, but when I lock my eyes with hers, I see her desperation, her need to help me. It's the only thing that has me sliding my hand into hers.

  "You don't like to drink and drive,” I comment dryly, as she helps me to my feet, noting the few slugs of whiskey she stole. Not a lot really, but Elle is anything but careless.

  "Don't worry, Pretty Boy, we got a ride." She looks behind me, I turn to follow her stare. Both my brothers are leaning on her car waiting for us. Of course.

  I follow behind her slowly as she makes her way over to them. Lincoln offering her the slight tip of his chin, and Marcus pulling her in to drop a kiss to her head. They turn their attention to me, giving me a grim smile, before climbing into the car to wait for me. I take one last look up at the night sky and try my luck yet again at one of Marcus and Elle's stupid traditions. I wish on a star, on all the fucking stars, like I do every night. And like every night, I wish for the same thing. To make it stop. To just make it all stop.

  2

  Jace

  “Jace Conrad, to the Principal's office.” The announcement blares into the classroom and everyone turns to stare at me. They don’t talk to me, I’m the trailer trash with druggies for parents. Everyone here comes from a shitty family and a run down house, but we have it worse than them all, meaning they all give us a wide berth, even the teachers.