CHAPTER 1

GEORGE

My eyes flit open, and there’s no one around me—or so I think. The moon peeks rudely at
the stark-naked brunette lying by my side and at my own half-naked body, running its nosy
light on the scars around my chest and arms. Ugly scars, I think. The boys at Fort Braxton
don’t seem to agree with me. The scars, they say, are medals of honor, proof of valor, a
signature of fire and blood that showcase the indomitable spirit of mankind . . . or
something along those lines.
I snap out of my silent reverie and look to the clock on the mahogany table beside
me. The time is 3:33 A.M., and the air feels like it was imported from Russia smack in the
middle of winter. It’s been like this for two weeks now; me meeting a new broad at some
fancy club or mall and trying to lose myself in her for hours. More often than not, she
cannot match my energy and eventually climaxes multiple times and then pleads with me to
allow her sleep while I remain unsatiated and attempt to sleep for all of three or four hours
—only to be awakened by the sound of machine-gun fire, static radio talk and the bodies of
my nation's enemies and my nation's sons scattered around me.
Every day, the scene changes. The voices and the faces are barely recognizable. I find
myself in a different warehouse or battlefield or wherever the hell my unit and I have been
ordered to. This was the norm throughout my fifteen-year military career. However, one
thing remains unchanged: I am always the last man standing. I am always alone.
Stepping out of bed, I hurriedly put on a black sleeveless top, black joggers and a pair
of running shoes. I grabbed my headset from where it was on the table beside me and
headed out on a run into the woods not too far from my compound. I’m usually alone at this
time in the woods, the soles of my shoes continuously pounding the earth at the same
speed at which my heartbeat hits my ribcage. Besides being on the war front, this is the only
time I feel alive, the only time I am truly myself.
I ran down the path that leads to my usual sniping spot, where I prey on
unsuspecting wolves and bears, after which I take great pleasure in skinning them and
hanging their skins in my trophy room. These are the medals of strength I recognize, proof
of my true personality. Not a hero, but a predator. The predator, I thought to myself and
smiled as I kept running towards my hunting shed.
 Grabbing my gun, I crept towards a fallen log, positioning myself like the experienced
sniper I am. My breath was perfectly still; beads of perspiration rolled down my skin as my
fingers seductively wound their way up the slender barrel and my index finger caressed the
trigger of my Barrett M82. I waited for the wolves in view to continue down the path they
were already traversing. Just as my index finger slipped into the trigger guard once more, I
heard a chilling scream. On pure instinct, I took aim in the direction the sound had come
from and spotted two young men attempting to force themselves on a lady. From what I
could see, her hands were tied painfully behind her back.
“What are they doing here?” I muttered under my breath as I dropped the rifle and
ran down towards them. Upon seeing me approach, they stopped what they were trying to
do, turned to me—and in a flash they were both upon me. One of the guys yelled as he
threw a big right in my direction. I almost laughed as I stepped back slightly and in seconds
plowed my fist into his gut, making him repeat the yell . . . this time in pain. In the same
breath, I introduced his companion’s chest to my sneakers most painfully. They doubled
back, and I knew I was going to enjoy this.
Less than a minute later, the young men were out cold, and I turned my sights on the
girl in front of me—torn clothes, glasses on the floor, messy blonde hair and running shoes.
My eyes flitted over my surroundings once more as my war-honed instincts switched from
attack mode to normal. There were two sports backpacks on the ground next to a smashed
camera. The boys were in running gear. It all made sense to me; these three were probably
out running together when the guys decided to do more than just run.
The girl was staring at me as though it was I who’d attempted to force myself on her
a few minutes ago. Her eyes were bugged with fear and she was panting audibly. I untied
her bound hands and asked her to come with me, yet she refused to move.
“You can come with me or stay here with them; it’s up to you,” I said softly, as I
turned and began walking back towards my initial position. Apparently, that snapped her
back to reality and she soon followed behind me, her feet dragging in the dirt.
Grabbing my rifle, I started towards the shed, and she followed me wordlessly. As
soon as we reached the shed, I beckoned her to come in, but she eyed me warily. There was
that look again, a mixture of suspicion and fear. Ordinarily, I liked inspiring fear in others,
but there was just something about this girl—from whom I hadn’t heard a single word—that
made me want to protect her. I didn’t want her to be afraid; I wanted to tell her she’d be
fine, but I didn’t. I was not a hero.
I was thinking of the best way to help her out with her injuries, since she obviously
didn’t trust me . . . and then she passed out.
ASHLEY

My lungs burned. They were touching me, strangling me, holding me down. It didn’t feel
right, there was nothing remotely nice about it. Scratching, biting, clawing . . . I did
everything my instincts said to do.
And then the man in black appeared. Sounds of a scuffle, grunts of pain, and the
threat ceased to exist. It all happened so fast I could barely get my bearings, barely
understand what was happening.
I heard him say again, in a low baritone voice, too deep for someone with such a sad
look, “You can come with me or stay here . . .” and I instinctively stretched my hands
towards him. We’d never met before, but there was something about him that truly made
me want to go with him.
As I reached out, I heard an unfamiliar voice: “She’s awake.”
My eyes darted open and I surveyed my surroundings: a white room, blinding lights
and men and women in lab coats. Hospital, I realized. I began wondering what had
happened. Did I pass out? My eyes adjusted to the lights again and the shock to my system
began to recede.
In about an hour, around 11:00 that morning, I was released, with a prescription for
some painkillers and kind warnings to get some rest. As I made my way home, a hundred
questions filled my mind. What had happened earlier today? Why did the Smith boys
attempt to rape me? Didn’t they always claim to not be attracted to me? Where did I go
wrong?
All these and more ran through my mind; few of them came with answers. The twins
were among the very few friends I had who my mom knew about, and probably the only
males at whose place she’d let me pass the night. I wondered what got into them. And who
was the knight in black that rescued me from them with such ease?
The barrage of questions followed me home. I stopped for a few seconds to greet my
mother in the kitchen. My hello barely drew a reply. Darting upstairs and shutting the door
behind me, I dropped onto my mattress and faced my ceiling, picturing the man’s broad-
shouldered, towering frame in my mind’s eye. It was as though his image grew larger, filling
my head and squeezing out everything else . . . I forced my thoughts to stop and allowed
myself to mull over the events of the previous day and the wee hours of this morning.
 Martin and Matthew had convinced me to go jogging with them after I’d slept over
at their place. It was around 3:30 in the morning, and they’d said they’d found the perfect
spot for one of our photo sessions and that we had to hurry to catch the sun rising.
This wasn’t a particularly unusual request. The boys came up with all sorts of
concepts and I’d always been their model for silhouette shots because of my small frame
and curvy body. I knew this, but I also used to think I knew that they weren’t attracted to me
sexually. I obviously thought wrong.
I’d packed some clothes to model in, put on some running gear, and by 3:45 A.M. we
were out of the house. When we’d jogged and walked for about thirty minutes, Matt had
stopped the hike and brought out his camera. We were only a few shots into the session
when Martin started getting handsy. It was uncomfortable and I’d told him off. At first, he
complied.
I didn’t know the specifics, but then I saw him arguing with Matt, only to come back
a few minutes later and attempt to force himself on me with Matt watching. In horror, I
struggled, doing my best to hold him off. He was bigger than me, of course, so it wasn’t a
fair fight, but I put up so much resistance that he called his brother to help. Help him, that is,
not me.
Matt reluctantly came over and held me down, eventually tying my hands behind my
back with a shoelace while Martin fondled me. As he struggled to hold me still, Matt kept
apologizing. I felt disgusted, betrayed, afraid.
I screamed, so loud I felt my throat tear—then he appeared! The man in black, built
like a Roman statue with the face of a Hollywood star. He saved me by beating the hell out
of the twins, who were no match for his superior physique and fighting skills.
A lot of what came after was hazy, but I remember shivering in the early morning
chill, until he handed me his jacket. The realization hit me: the jacket was here. I still had it!
I pulled it out of the paper bag they’d given me at the hospital and brought it to my
nose, inhaling deeply, allowing the unique scent to overwhelm my senses in the same way
he’d overpowered the boys. I drifted into sleep.
By the time I woke up it was well past lunchtime I’d missed a day at work. I can make
up for that tomorrow I thought to myself as I disposed of the clothes I’d come home in and
stepped into my bathroom for a good, long, cleansing bath. The lavender scent wafted
around my nostrils as the water played upon my sensitive skin. I closed my eyes, picturing
the man in black again; why did he look so sad?
Stepping out of the bathroom, I dried myself up and picked out some clothes to
wear. I carefully laid out a white chiffon top, skinny blue jeans and sneakers on the dressing
table. I applied my body lotion, brushed my hair and put them on before brushing my hair
again and packing it into a ponytail. Then one more time before leaving the house, I pulled
out the jacket and inhaled. Just as I was about to put it back in my closet, my hands
stumbled upon a brochure for a gym. I smiled inwardly. Perhaps I’ll get to thank him after
all, I thought.
 CHAPTER 2

GEORGE

It was almost 4:00 A.M.; it was my third week of sleeplessness and about a week since my
encounter with the blonde out in the forest. My inability to sleep was becoming more
annoying and my nights were riddled with meaningless dreams and meaningful nightmares:
The voices of the hundreds I’ve shot down crying out for my soul break through the barrier
of the underworld into the land of dreams, where reality and illusion are closely
intertwined. The Grim Reaper looks at me, eye sockets hollow, and I stare back. I am not
afraid! I refuse to die until I have made one thing clear. You are the greatest, my inner
demons whisper to me and I cannot help but agree.
I popped two aspirin into my mouth and swallowed slowly, drowning the tablets
with a glass of orange juice. I rinsed the glass cup and took a shower. When I was done, the
redhead in my bed was still between my blankets. I wrote a note and dropped it on the
table beside her, promising to give her a call when I got back home. I figured she’d probably
get the message; I do not expect to see her by the time I get back.
I got prepared for my daily run, this time certain that I would not fail to bring home a
trophy. With that thought in mind, I got out the house and into the forest.
Down on the ground again, my breath ceased. My mind was empty and all I could
see was what was at the other end of my scope. I caressed the trigger as the pack of wolves
came into view, certain that they could not sense my presence. Unfortunately for them,
however, the lack of awareness was not mutual. I waited patiently, my breath on hold; even
my heart seemed to wait . . . and then bang! The wolf at the front of the pack went down,
thrashing wildly. All the others scurried for safety, yet not completely leaving. I could feel
them searching for where the shot came from, not as predators now but as survivors. A wolf
—then two—appeared slowly out of a clearing, approaching the thrashing wolf. By the
manner in which they approached, I quickly surmised that it must be the alpha. I grinned
wickedly as I fired another shot into it, this time killing it for sure.
The two wolves disappeared, howling as they galloped. I approached the dead alpha,
gun in hand, jackknives in my back pockets, and a look that could make Frosty the Snowman
freeze in terror. I could feel them watching me from the shadows. Part fear, part
resentment—and I loved it! Upon reaching the dead alpha, I stabbed him for them to see,
then picked him up, strolling back towards my protected position and the wolves could only
stare.
Over an hour passed before I’d successfully skinned the wolf and incinerated its
body. Placing the skin into a hunting bag, I started on home, along the way appreciating the
calm I felt after my hunt.
Once home, I set aside the head to be taxidermized, after which it would join the
others on my trophy wall. Its skin I placed on a drying table; I should have it fluffed up later, I
decided. As I stared at the head, my inner demons came rushing out again: There can only
be one alpha.
My bloody business finished, I shouted down my instincts and got into the showers
to wash away my sins. When the shower was over, I put on some gym clothes. The boys and
I had an important meeting at the gym. I’d received a sealed letter from the governor’s
office and a handwritten letter from Col. Bradley Fisk, my own commander and something
of a father figure to the boys and me. Every time we got a new member, he was there, and
every time we lost someone, we gathered. He would make it from wherever he was and we
would all workout and then drink ourselves into a stupor in honor of our fallen brother. Fisk
was effectively our commander and father, and a summons from him was something none
of us dared refuse.
I got on my power bike and started off for the gym. As the wind blew past me and
the buildings appeared and disappeared in a blur, I wondered who was joining the unit
today . . . or worse still, who had left.
ASHLEY

After the terrifying incident with the twins and the man in black, I resumed my daily duties
at Mo’s Pizza as though nothing had happened. The boys had stopped coming to work here
and my boss had hired a new co-worker, Vera. She was blonde like me, with green eyes. A
little taller, with a pretty figure. Vera was chatty, and she seemed to enjoy every moment of
everything. She was the kind of person who said the things you thought in your head and
did the things you said you’d do but constantly postponed. She was a devout Catholic,
though, which did to an extent rein in her exuberant personality with a touch of morality.
In the week that Vera had been here, we had become friends and we occasionally
walked home together after working double shifts. While she seemed unbothered by the
fact that we were putting in extra hours of work for a static pay, I knew better. We were
working to cover the third vacant spot left by one of the boys. It sickened me, but I would
have to deal with it, I figured.
My shift today was over around 2:00 P.M. and I decided to use that opportunity to
head to the gym. Stepping out of the pizza parlor, I took a taxi to the location, appreciating
the scenery as we zoomed by. I got out of the cab, and began to contemplate what I would
say when I saw him as I took the short walk to the entrance. I peeped through the pane
glass but didn’t see him.
So I stepped in, I felt like a hen that had been thrown into a den of wolves; the men
all seemed to stop and stare and I felt my skin flush and my palms heat up and then cool
down in their own sweat. I surveyed the room, and to my disappointment he wasn’t there.
I’d planned an elaborate speech to thank him before returning his jacket; alas it was not to
be.
I turned around and my face was met with a barrel of a chest. Shoving my glasses
back up on my nose and apologizing, I corrected my sight defect and his face greeted my
eyes. I almost died of embarrassment. Why was I so clumsy? It was mortifying! He stared
me down as though he’d never seen me before and my palms instinctively covered my face.
GEORGE

A blonde in a white top had just crashed into me and I could not resist the urge to stare her
down. However, looking at her flushed skin, which had turned completely red, I felt
satisfied. She donned her glasses, and I recognized her immediately, only she looked
different now that she wasn’t covered in dirt and pine needles and panting with terror.
She was petite, slim with curves that looked like they were drawn and not grown. In
the sunlit room her blonde hair looked like the product of a flashbang. Her lips parted in
surprise, right before her palms went to her face, preventing me from continuing my
scrutiny. She couldn’t cover her body though, as she turned her back to me in what seemed
like embarrassment. My gym shorts were suddenly too tight. “Goddamnit,” I cursed under
my breath.
She looked like she was made on a day when whoever was up there was in an
exceptionally good mood. She again turned to look at my feet, holding my jacket up. “Thank
you . . . sorry . . . uhm . . . your jacket said you’d be here,’’ she blurted out, and I couldn’t
help but keep at it.
“My jacket spoke to you?” I asked mockingly.
“No . . . uhm . . . there was a brochure . . . I came here to thank you and return this,”
she said, finally regaining her composure.
I smiled, accepting the jacket. I was satisfied at the deference and I said nothing as
she turned to go, walking as fast as her legs seemed able to carry her.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Ashley,” she said, and scurried out of the gym.
The way she left, it was like a little rabbit running from a pack of wolves, or a pack
running from me. Pursue! Hunt! my inner demons urged, but I stayed fixed to the spot. I’d
saved her once; I should not devour her myself.
The gym was owned by Col. Fisk and it was where that of us had been recruited into
the military from. We made our way into a back room where we read the contents of the
letter with dread. But it was good news, not bad. We had been invited to a dinner hosted by
the governor and we had to be in attendance, Col. Fisk’s orders, and they were absolute. We
all agreed to be there. Then I read the second letter, which sent the boys whooping and
made them forget their momentary gloom at the prospect of a dinner. I was the honoree,
and for me, they would walk through fire.
ASHLEY

That went horribly wrong, I thought. Why was he so intense? I was jerked from my
innermost recesses by Vera, who appeared out of nowhere. It had been about two hours
since my little adventure to the gym, and we were halfway through the second shift when
Vera proposed something to me. She’d received an offer to work a side job over the
weekend as an usher. It would be an overnight job, and she had gotten me a spot. She
squealed excitedly and kept talking as my mind drifted back to the man in black.
She tapped me again.
“What?” I asked, half annoyed that she had distracted me from my daydreaming.
But she didn’t seem to notice as she asked me in her excited manner whether I was
in. I knew better than to argue, and going over the details again, I realized it was quick
money for little work . . . yet it seemed off. We were going to make over two weeks’ worth
of wages overnight. But it was Vera, and I knew she wouldn’t be involved in any work that
didn’t sit with her moral standards which, quite frankly, were probably higher than mine.
“All right, let’s do it!” I said, and we went back to work.
As soon as we were done, we made off for my home to convince my mother to allow
me to sleep over at her place the next day. Mom put up little resistance. She barely spoke
since my sister committed suicide last year after my father and her fiancé died in a car crash.
It was a colossal tragedy, but instead of retreating into a shell like my mother, I threw myself
into work, into novels and into studying. I had already been accepted into a university
abroad and I had promised myself I would be happy. I would live for myself; as long as I kept
moving, I would be fine. With her permission obtained, we packed some stuff and set out
for Vera’s. It would be a long night.
 CHAPTER 3

GEORGE

I stared at him in his ceremonial jacket, with well-knotted tie and neatly cut hair, the perfect
jawline and lips that told many tales of silence even as they were closed. He adjusted his
watch and fixed a side arm into the holster underneath the jacket and he stared back at me,
black eyes boring into mine as though he could see into my soul. As though he knew that
the person standing before him was a façade. As though he knew that I was a beast . . . and
he did know; he was me.
Closing the large folding mirror, I set out into my black sports car and zoomed off
towards the docks. Tonight was going to be one hell of a night.
ASHLEY

Miss Brooks was an elegant woman in her late thirties; she had a sort of panache about her,
and her voice was low, soft and in some strange way, commanding. She informed us that
the job would be atop a cruise ship which would return to land at 3:00 A.M. From there we
would have the option of following the agency home or going off on our own; all we had to
do was look pretty at the party and smile at the guests as we welcomed them. They might
make passes at us, but we were not required to do anything untoward. We were here as eye
candy, nothing more, she explained, and I understood. We signed forms stating that we
were not being prostituted and that whatever choices we made with the guests at the party
were not within the knowledge of the company.
At that point, I got a little scared, but Vera assured me it was standard practice. She
had done this a couple of times, and in some instances, some ushers got carried away with a
VIP, so the company had to ensure that it was clear that they were not asking us to do
anything with the guests.
But neither are they forbidding it, my mind retorted.
By nine we were aboard the vessel and the evening had begun. The event was being
held inside a hall on the ship. The inner décor seemed like it was in built, like nothing was
attached or imported, and the people here fit in with the décor like they were made inside
the ship. Even the ushers and the servers and waiters in our cream, gold and army green
colors respectively looked like parts of the master design of some almighty planner watching
somewhere. But on the inside, I felt like I was imported from my world and dumped in an
experimental paradise. No matter. I had a job to do and I would do it perfectly. I curtseyed
when I had to, smiled at every guest and stood still when others did.
Around 11:45 we received instructions that we would walk with the guard of honor
and stand on either side of the rostrum before the governor gave his speech. By 11:55 we
were walking; a dashing military officer linked my arm in his as we walked to either side and
stood, them at alert, us smiling, chins held high.
They called for the guest of honor. “Ladies and gentlemen please rise as we welcome
His Excellency, the governor of our great state of California, Mr. Samuel Tanner!”
There was loud applause as the governor came on stage. We didn’t turn to look and
had received no orders to leave when he gave a speech, at the end of which he mentioned
that he would like to personally present the evening’s award to his friend and brother, a
soldier who had distinguished himself in the military, receiving the nation’s highest award.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Major George David!”
And I saw him emerge! The man in black, the one in my dreams. How had I not seen
him throughout the evening? Had he seen me? Did he recognize me? All these questions
and more wandered through my mind as he pecked the ladies and shook hands with the
men on the honor guard column I was standing in. He was coming closer, and my heart kept
leaping, higher and higher until it was in my throat. I felt cold beads of sweat run down my
back, and my breathing hitched. Not again, I begged myself.
As he moved closer, images of that night and the embarrassing afternoon at the gym
flashed through my mind. I was anxious—grateful to him, but anxious. He appeared before
me as I held up my hand, grabbed it slowly and looked into my eyes. My heart stopped
leaping, time stopped, everything stood still as he looked at me. The moment I looked back
into that black pool, I felt the clothes on my skin being slowly peeled away, then I felt my
skin itself being peeled off. His eyes peered into the very depths of my soul, sensing all of my
deepest fears. In his presence, I was powerless, and his roguish smile said he knew it.
My instinct kicked in as his lips drew closer. I wanted to pull my hands free and run,
then he frowned, gripped my hands tighter and I immediately lost my resolve. He brushed
my hands with his lips, and I was certain he was related to some god of thunder
somewhere. The static electricity in the air seemed to use his body as a conductor to pass
into mine, opening blocked paths in my body and soul, making the hair on my skin stand and
causing reactions in other places.
Again my heart started racing, and he raised his head and walked off. Instantly I
calmed down, my breathing stabilized, but in truth, I didn’t want to be normal anymore. I
wanted to feel the way he made me feel. The slow walk ended, and he gave a rousing
speech about the troops on the frontline and how they were in constant danger of death for
the freedom we were enjoying in this very room. There was a standing ovation by the time
he was finished, and the dinner returned to its original state.
GEORGE

On my way to my seat, I felt my inner demons screaming at me, Hunt! Hunt! I tried to
suppress this instinct, along with the erection that had built in my loins. I got to the table
and downed some champagne when one of my lieutenants laughed, together with the boys.
They had noticed, and I chuckled nervously when the compere announced that it was time
to dance. I disliked dancing, and I took my excuses to breathe in some fresh air.
Stepping outside, I saw her standing there, talking to some officer. A possessive rage
came over me. This girl appeared in all the wrong places, and it would be her fault if I gave
in to my demons. As I marched over, I did not recognize the man. When I got there, I looked
at the decorations on his chest, and he instantly saluted me. I saluted back and said, “I need
to borrow her for a second, Captain; I’m sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all, sir,” came the reply.
With that done, I stretched out my hand, and she graciously took it, obviously
thankful to have been saved from his advances.
“Ashley, if I remember correctly?”
“Major David,” she said nervously, and I laughed.
Then replied, “You can come with me or stay here; the choice is yours.”