Spark Read online

  SPARK

  BOOKTHREE-THESTRONGERSERIES

  J.MARIE

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  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

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Connect with J. Marie

  Copyright © 2016 J. Marie

  Self - Published by J. Marie

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not

  limited to printing, file sharing, and email without prior written permission from J. Marie.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s

  imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, or person’s living dead, are

  coincidental.

  Warning: This story is for mature adults only. It contains violence, mature and explicit content and non-

  consensual / dubious, graphic sexual activity that some readers may find upsetting.

  Cover and Web Design by Amanda Simpson

  Edited by Jenny Sims

  Formatting by Jeff Senter of Indie Formatting Services

  ISBN: 978-1-370-84994-9

  DEDICATION

  This is for you. For the ones who have suffered. For the ones who have despaired.

  For the ones who continue to fight every day to simply stay alive. And for the ones

  who are already lost. It is my greatest hope that you find your way back to us, for I

  am not done fighting for you...but only you can make yourself stronger.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This is just a special thanks from me to you, and not just for reading this story. By

  doing so, not only have you helped spread awareness, but you helped donate to a

  charity that supports victims of human trafficking. This horrific industry is very

  real and is happening every day, all around the world. With a little help, we can chip

  away at it until it's nothing but a dusty, dirty stain in our history.

  This time, I would really like to thank my fans. You guys have been so patient with

  me this year and I really appreciate all the love and support. Writing a book while in

  law school while working a full-time job is not easy, but I did it! And I made it

  10,000 words longer than the last book! So, thank you for sticking by me and

  making this experience my dream come true.

  I also want to send out a special thank you to my cousin Tara who spent the entire

  holiday season on the couch thanks to some extensive back surgery and was still

  able to beta read for me. Turns out you still have use after all, even if you are just

  sitting on your ass! <3

  To everyone else who was there to support me in this, I love you so much for it.

  Also a super special thanks to my awesome team!

  Cover and Web Design by Amanda Simpson

  Pixel Mischief Design

  Edited by Jenny Sims

  Editing 4 Indies

  Formatted by Jeff Senter

  Indie Formatting Services

  Promoted by Ebony Simone McMillan

  Author Support Services

  1

  BREAK

  Sunshine peered in through the windows. Its warm glow lingered over my face, yet

  it did nothing to lift my mood like it used to. I had just woken up from another

  long nap that took up a good third of my day thanks to the heavy meds I was on;

  though, to be honest, I didn’t want to be awake anyway. The past three weeks had

  been nothing but torment, and if there was anything that could relieve me of it, it

  was the deep abyss of my drug-induced slumber. At least, then, I was too numb to

  remember my nightmares.

  Practically shackled to my hospital bed for the first week on this godforsaken

  island, I’d barely been allowed to move an inch without Darren’s approval.

  Apparently, he wanted me to get as much rest as possible, so that meant the least

  amount of movement as possible. And in a way, I was almost grateful … because I

  had no desire to move even a single muscle. After one week of being bedridden, I

  had been forced to start moving around again. Apparently, it wasn’t good to simply

  waste away in my hospital bed. Another lesson in learning my body’s movements

  were not my own decision.

  Every move was painful—even breathing hurt—but apparently, sleeping off my

  injuries wasn’t in my recovery plan. My wrist, jaw, and ribs might be broken, but

  according to Darren and Sid, my legs worked just fine. I’d fought back winces and

  tears as I was forced to walk through the halls of the house, straining against the

  pain of breath, and showing none of it. I refused to let Darren see my pain. Just

  because he had broken my body didn’t mean I had to act like it.

  My wrist would remain in its cast for the next few weeks, and the wiring in my

  jaw proved to be the most uncomfortable and humiliating experience ever. I

  couldn’t really speak. Only mumbles or inaudible sounds could escape my lips, so I

  eventually just gave up on my vocals altogether. Nurse Ginsby tried to teach me

  some simple sign language to help me communicate, but I was only interested in

  using the one containing a single middle finger.

  Looking down at my bare left wrist, I found slight enjoyment in the lack of a

  particular silver cuff on my wrist. There was no need for them here. One was

  useless without the other, and I was on an island, for fuck’s sake. Where the hell

  was I going to go? The others remained around my ankles, as did the collar around

  my neck. Even though I could bypass Darren’s invisible electric fence, the collar

  itself had a greater purpose than just keeping me within my confines. It was the

  reminder that I did not belong to myself, that I was not of equal standing … because

  I still belonged to him, as if the tattoos on my wrists weren’t enough of a reminder.

&n
bsp; At least I only had to endure the sight of one of them … for now.

  I was now at the end of my third week of recovery, and the pain in my jaw was

  finally starting to fade, or maybe I was so doped on painkillers I didn’t notice it

  anymore. Sid said it was healing well, and that I’d be able to have the wiring

  removed in a week or so. I couldn’t wait to get the fucking thing off. Not being able

  to open my mouth or speak made things even harder than they already were. I

  could tell Darren was enjoying the silence, even though I didn’t have shit to say to

  him anyway.

  Thankfully, since my panic attack the last time I’d seen him, he stayed away

  most of the time. Sid felt it would help speed up my recovery if I was less stressed,

  and seeing Darren always pissed me off and stressed me out. Surprisingly, Darren

  had agreed, but he still managed to get his fill of me at night when I was asleep.

  Ginsby would tell me if he was on the island; he’d sit by my side for hours, watching

  over me as I slept my pain away. She thought it was sweet, but I knew it was

  anything but. Sometimes, I could still feel his presence the following morning—

  smell his cologne—and it often chilled me to the bone knowing he was there and I

  was helpless.

  Apparently, Darren still had a lot going on back home from all the damage I

  managed to cause, plus his usual business. A single word hadn’t been uttered about

  the status of my family, nor the outcome of my “funeral,” and in a way, I was glad.

  If something had happened, I didn’t want to know. I wouldn’t be able to change it,

  and it would only set my recovery back by weeks. I figured if Darren had done

  something, he would have told me to ensure my continued obedience…or to simply

  torture me. But still, the uncertainty about it made me nervous because eventually,

  I would find out, and I couldn’t do shit about it. After all, Darren had said he was a

  man of his word.

  I realized now that I could never really hurt Darren. Not physically, in the way I

  wanted. After what he did to me in that jail cell after escaping him, it was obvious

  to me he had been holding back so much; I was just too proud to see it. I was stupid

  if I thought I could withstand his physicality. It’s not like it would ever be difficult

  for Darren to subdue a 120-pound girl, now technically 110.

  I was so sure of myself. So sure I could handle him, but I was wrong, and now, I

  was paying for it.

  For some reason, I didn’t expect him to hurt me so badly, but thinking about it

  now, I realized the pain he inflicted on me wasn’t what constituted my

  punishment; it was my recovery. It was taking away my skillset and replacing it

  with discernable vulnerability. My skills were useless now that my body was

  broken. And that was Darren’s message to me: “You may have skills, but I can

  easily take them away.” Fucking asshole. I’d be lucky if I could complete a butterfly

  kick by the end of the year.

  My vulnerability was terrifying. I couldn’t defend myself for shit, and it was the

  worst feeling in the world. If something happened, I was useless, and in a situation

  where you’re constantly threatened, and your guard is always up, it really is the

  worst feeling in the world. I hated being left in such a weakened state, left to

  depend on others to take care of me. Every time I tried to do something on my own,

  Hank, my new shadow and bodyguard, would rush over and stop me. Everything I

  did required assistance, whether I needed it or not.

  I sat in the cushioned reading nook of my medical suite and leaned against the

  large bay window. My tablet in my lap, I was listening to calming music and failing

  miserably at reading my book. Nurse Ginsby was preparing another bowl of chicken

  broth for me now that it was lunchtime. I had gotten so fed up with the smoothies,

  but it was all I could eat until my mouth was unwired. I had lost nearly ten pounds

  from my new liquid diet, losing my muscle tone along with it since I wasn’t exactly

  working out anymore. I felt like I was withering away, both physically and

  mentally.

  At least I had Ginsby to keep me company, though she wasn’t much for

  conversation, but then again, neither was I. I had Hank, but he never spoke much,

  not unless he was telling me what to do. He never let me out of his sight. Whenever

  I had to leave my suite, he escorted me, which wasn’t often since I had no desire to

  ever leave my room anyway. Upon Darren’s approval, I could roam the house, but I

  had zero interest in going anywhere or doing anything. I preferred to just sleep.

  Darren informed me that when I fully recovered, I would have two guards since

  he didn’t trust me with just one. There was a compliment in there somewhere, but

  in the end, it just made me feel more hopeless. I had strived so hard for freedom,

  yet I set myself back further than when I had first started. I couldn’t allow myself to

  get upset about it, though. I knew the risks as well as the consequences, and now, I

  had to live with them. It didn’t make the situation suck any less, though.

  Broken, defeated, and restrained, I didn’t know what hope I had to escape

  Darren a second time. I knew I would have to kill him first, but just the simple

  thought of that was exhausting, especially since there was a prerequisite to

  complete first — namely, his empire. I wasn’t giving up, though. I promised myself

  that and I promised Jason. I owed it to my family and to everyone else who had ever

  been wronged by Darren’s organization. But it didn’t mean I couldn’t wallow in a

  little self-hatred for a while. I’d earned it, after all. I was just so tired of being

  stronger than I felt. It was exhausting. I needed a break … and I suppose I was

  getting it … literally.

  “Here’s your soup,” Ginsby said with a smile, breaking me from my train of

  thought. She handed me the thermos, and I took it from her, placing it in my lap

  and returning to my book. “Oh, I should inform you,” she began a little nervously,

  “Mr. Davis would like for you to join him for dinner tonight.”

  My stomach immediately dropped, as did my appetite. I gave her an incredulous

  look before turning to my tablet. I pulled out the stylus and began to write on the

  notepad app.

  ‘Why,’ I wrote.

  She shrugged. “He just does, dear. He’s been gone for over a week now and

  would like to see you.”

  Best week of my life.

  I cleared my notepad and wrote ‘great’ on it and flashed it to her.

  “We’ll need to get you ready in a couple of hours. He’ll be arriving on the island

  around six p.m.”

  Fucking. Fabulous.

  –∞–

  I spent the next several hours sitting in a shower chair while Ginsby helped to wash

  me. It was difficult to wash my body and hair with a busted wrist and ribs. For the

  longest time, I tried on my own, but it took me forever, and the struggle just wasn’t

  worth it anymore. At first, I didn’t like the idea of Ginsby washing me and seeing

  me naked, but eventually, I stopped giving a fuck. She wasn’t much for beauty help,

  but she could flat iron my hair like it was her own. My hair was ridiculously long

  now, past my breasts an
d annoying as hell. I always managed to get it caught in

  something or lay on it wrong. For the most part, I kept it back in a ponytail and out

  of my way, but I knew Darren liked it down and fanned out.

  When I was presentable, Hank escorted me to the dining room where I sat and

  waited for Darren to arrive. The moment I sat down, my long smooth hair fell into

  my face, and I just couldn’t take it anymore. It was so long and annoying that I

  didn’t care if Darren preferred it down. I took the hair tie from my left wrist and

  pulled my hair into a loose low ponytail. My hair was never this long, ever. I didn’t

  have the time to manage it, and it just got in the way. I planned to ask for a real

  haircut soon, but I doubted Darren would grant it. He liked my hair long and still

  wanted it longer.

  As Darren’s doll, I had been dressed in a light yellow strapless sundress and

  glittery nude flip-flops for shoes. While my hair was straight and smooth, my face

  no longer had to bear the annoyance of makeup. Over the past few weeks, I hadn’t

  worn any during my recovery, and Darren seemed to appreciate my natural beauty

  now, rather than mask it with something fake. Although, he expected to go the

  extra mile for special occasions apparently.

  I never knew what the fuck he was thinking. Like he’d decide to suddenly wine

  and dine me, and I would finally settle down with my life and accept him.

  Sometimes, I honestly considered just giving in and forgetting about my vendetta.

  It would be a hell of a lot easier and definitely less exhausting. Maybe my rebellious

  soul would finally die and rest peacefully in Darren’s pocket, leaving me to crumple

  into the complacent robot he so desperately wanted.

  Normally, I was fairly vocal with my emotions, but since the wiring of my jaw, I

  had to learn to swallow them whole. There were so many times when I had almost

  choked on my own anxiety while I slowly drowned in my depression. I felt useless

  in my broken state, and totally helpless in my recovery. But I had to remind myself

  over and over again … this was only temporary. My body would eventually heal.

  Darren was not invincible, and I would inevitably kill him, no matter how long it

  took me.

  Somewhere in the house, a door shut, and I listened to the thunderous steps that

  followed. My heart rate spiked, knowing it was Darren and that he was on his way

  toward me. Anxiety flooded my system, and I couldn’t help but place my elbows on