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,
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