Six days.

No one thought I could last

Here in the cell—I now call home

They didn’t know I grew up in the prison of my crime family’s dream.

Six weeks.

No one thought I could withstand

The loss, the drugs, the torture

They didn’t know how much I would enjoy their game.

Six months.

No one thought I could survive

Their puppet and prey—but I like to play—Hard.

And I don’t lose.

They picked the wrong guy. Their so-called ‘grunt’ would fight to get home and take revenge. I vowed to come back—for her—for Kaci. But everything changed.

My maniacal mind wrapped with a pretty mug, I am an unforgiving bastard, tough—tougher than they ever imagined.

And I will never – ever – break.

* * *

* * *

An excerpt from Grunt:

The flight took forever.

Hearing the voices of men talking in a foreign tongue, Sal couldn’t understand a single syllable. Uproarious and loud, almost jovial, he listened as his future played out like a record skipping repeatedly. The scratching hummed between each revolution until the drub became the only audible sound.

When the plane landed, the man corralled Sal for the same routine in reverse. He tread Sal down the stairs, guiding him to another vehicle. Only this time, he stepped upwards into some sort of SUV. The man hurled the door as he said, “Good luck.”

The long, bumpy ride passed over winding and curving roads, hurting his aching body. His senses on fire, stinging from no use, he needed unbound. They could do with him what they wanted, but bondage had never been his forte. With no idea where they were or who they were, he tried in vain to close his eyes, seeking a rest that would not come.

The one thing Sal knew—he needed to piss like a race horse. He heard a phone ring and the man with an accent said, “Ten minutes.” Between the skips in the record, the drum beat with his words–ten minutes.

Ten minutes to figure out what the fuck to do.

Ten minutes to decide how to play this hand.

Ten minutes to remember who he was.

The heralded golden boy highly anticipated to serve as a Master. The moment Sal set foot in Texas, everyone knew that boy – that submissive – would grow into a Dominant to behold. The kind to wield his emotions through intellect and treat his partner as a princess. With a heavy hand and a ruthless ability, Sal would shine because they trained him, raising him to be no less than the best regardless of the role. He was the pride and promise of Juliet.

Trying to calm his mind, Sal went back through every moment he could remember. Anything to provide a clue as to what the Juliet council planned, or where this journey ended. He had been initiated and that was rare. But now, he had been taken captive…like a hostage. He didn’t recall any members ever engaging in such a brutal and unnerving scene.

The vehicle stopped, lurching his body forward. Suddenly, they moved again, but this time slower until the car turned off. The driver got out, opened his door, and gripped him on the shoulder. The burly voice requested, “Come on, Raniero. You got people waiting.”

Again, not anyone he knew. Judging by how the man handled him, he wasn’t into gentle either. His mind fraught with the possibilities as to what he was about to endure, but he agreed to this.

He wanted this.

He begged for this.

“Push me further, I can do more. Don’t go easy on me.”

He would succeed in this scene for no other reason than he feared disappointing Serene or Jack or Anna. Too many people invested time and money in his development and training for him to wuss out now.

He heard a jingle of keys and a door opened. Guided over the threshold and through a series of hallways, the man led him down two flights of stairs. Again, another long hallway emerged.

Inhaling the stench of his retch, Sal mumbled beneath the hood, “This place feels like a prison.”

The man said nothing as the keys clattered. Hands shoved at his shoulders, pushing him down on his knees, and the door slammed with a thunderous echoing roar.

His worst fears just came true.

* * *