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    Rogue: Survivor's Heart, #1
    Rogue: Survivor's Heart, #1
    Rogue: Survivor's Heart, #1
    Ebook117 pages1 hour

    Rogue: Survivor's Heart, #1

    By Debbie Cassidy

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    About this ebook

    Each Victory is another day I get to continue breathing.  Each Victory is a reprieve from Death.

     

    Ever since I was betrayed and taken from my home planet, ever since they pumped me with poison and abandoned me on this asteroid to fight or die, I've been surviving.

     

    But I'm not alone.

     

    There are others with me, alien to me, just as I am to them. Separated into Houses we fight as a team on the blood-soaked sands while the elite watch.

     

    Each day is about survival until him.

     

    An outsider, he brings death, but he might also be our salvation.

     

    There can be no us and them. There can be no prejudice. There can only be the team, because together we are stronger.

     

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDebbie Cassidy
    Release dateJan 16, 2021
    ISBN9781393707677
    Rogue: Survivor's Heart, #1

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      Book preview

      Rogue - Debbie Cassidy

      1

      The world was ringing from the blow to my head. I should have moved faster, ducked, or dodged. Too late now. Shake it off, Rogue, back on your feet. But the ground felt too good against my battered body. It was the blood in my mouth that enraged me. If the bastard had broken my teeth, I’d rip off his balls. A quick sweep with my tongue revealed no chips or wobbles.

      The air moved at my back, and I rolled out of the way a split second before my opponent hit the sand.

      The crowd roared, their fickle faith in me restored, and it was time to get back on my feet, time to use my merry fists to make a statement, and just in time too because the Trad the opposing team had set on me was on his feet and charging toward me. My lips stretched in what was probably a bloody grin, and my heart pumped faster, readying me to take the blow, readying me to reply in kind.

      But a pale blue back appeared in front of me, blocking my shot, and the crunch of fist to face reverberated around the arena. Damn Marlon and his chivalry; the Athion couldn’t bear to see me get hurt, but pain was what the arena was all about, and he didn’t understand that without it, I was nothing. This was where I came alive, where the faces of my opponents became the faces of my captors, of everyone who’d led to me being here.

      Rogue, over here!

      Killion? I spun to see my human teammate surrounded by the three remaining members of the opposing team. They’d taken out Barker, the fourth member of our team, and his glassy-eyed body lay at the edge of the arena. Poor bastard. He’d lasted a week.

      There was no way I’d lose Killion too.

      I broke into a sprint across the arena, kicking up sand as I went. Marlon was at my back. The Athion was fast and overtook me to reach Killion a second before I did, and then there was nothing but the focus of a tussle and the crack of bone. It was three on three, and I had the advantage because I wasn’t Trad or Athion. Heck, I wasn’t even human anymore. I was something new, and that something didn’t tire. That something was faster and stronger. That something was a master when it came to pain. And it was time to deliver.

      The sound of the buzzer was a distant annoyance as I drove my fist into a face over and over again. Mush, red, blood, red.

      Rogue!

      A hand was on my shoulder, fingers biting and pulling me out of the blood haze and into reality so that I could finally hear the roar of a satisfied crowd. The fruits of my labor glared back at me with dead eyes. The Trad was silent and empty and dead. I’d done this. I’d killed him. I sat back on my haunches and tilted my head up to the roof, allowing the sounds to wash over me, to push back the remorse and tears, and to push down the knot in my chest.

      There could be no morals, no mercy. There could be no guilt. Not if I wanted to survive.

      Come on. Marlon pulled me to my feet.

      I stood on my own steam for a moment, and then my knees gave way. He grabbed me around the waist, cursing under his breath, and then swung me up into his arms.

      Had to take them all on, didn’t you? Think you’re a machine? Foolish human. Crazy human.

      I smiled up into his handsome face. But ya love me.

      And then the lights went out.

      Silence kept me awake at night. The silence when the machines stopped running and when the world slipped into various stages of slumber. That was the time when my mind came alive.

      Back home, I would have made a hot cup of cocoa and sat at my bay window watching the stars, but home was a treasured memory, and there were no windows in my prison—no windows and no light. But that was all right, my night vision was spectacular, and there was enough illumination filtering in through the bars in my cell door for me to make out the inside of what my captors referred to as my quarters. Quarters that consisted of a lone bunk, a sink, a toilet, and a desk. A desk with no chair, which made it completely redundant. They’d tried to disguise it, but there was no mistaking this for anything else but a cell. Even the frayed rug and plastered walls couldn’t hide that. And being locked inside kind of gave it away.

      I guess they wanted us to feel comfortable. Protect what little was left of our frayed psyches so we could continue to serve our purpose. I guess they wanted to make us feel like this was home.

      But home was so far from there that the thought of it made my heart ache and my throat close. Memories of home made my skin cry out to taste sunlight, to soak it up and breathe it in, and my fingers … My fingers begged to brush against the soft yet sharp blades of grass that had covered my lawn.

      Home was so out of reach that when I thought about it, the scream lodged in my chest threatened to claw its way up my throat and explode from my lips. But there could be no show of weakness. Not in this place. A show of weakness would get me killed. Instead, I lay on my bunk and stared at the plastered ceiling. It looked so normal, and for a moment, I allowed myself to pretend it was my bedroom ceiling. The one from home. Any moment, the sun would lance through my blinds and across my comforter and bathe me in amber. Milo, my cat, would jump up and nuzzle my neck, and then the alarm would go off and—

      The world began to shake, and intermittent thudding and drilling sounds filled the chamber, shattering the illusion. It was dawn on Vesper V, and the workers on the mining asteroid were already hard at work. Once again, sleep had eluded me, and a new day had begun.

      Doors clanged, and boots clipped on stone. It was feeding time at the zoo. I rolled off the bunk and sauntered to the door, hand ready to grab the plate that would be shoved through the hatch below the bars at any—Yeah, there it was, gruel. Mmmmm, nice. But it was nutritious, and it kept me alive. It kept me strong. Strong enough to hold my own every time they threw me and my team into the pit to face another house.

      A prickle ran over my skin. Would we be tested again today? How long had it been? A week? Long enough for our wounds to heal completely. Mine had healed within hours. It was the others who needed time. It was getting worse, this curse in my veins, this uncanny strength and agility, and this unholy yearning for violence. I was changing every day. What would I become when the drug they’d poisoned me with was done with me?

      The metal bowl in hand, I made to turn away from the hatch, but a face appeared at the barred portion of my door. Thin, cruel, and scarred, it haunted many of my most colorful nightmares.

      Marick sneered. And how are we this fine morning, Rogue?

      I had no time for the slimy house manager. Fuck you, Marick.

      Already been there, my prickly. Or do you need a reminder of what a man’s cock feels like inside you?

      He was no man. He was a monster, one of the Trad that had been attacking my world for years. The same Trads that had reaped Earth of women in their prime. I’d been one of those women once, but now … I shoved the thoughts away along with the memories of what had been done to me all those months ago. They wouldn’t serve me right now.

      Remember how it felt, Rogue? he pressed. I remember. I remember how you bucked beneath me.

      The bastard. My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. Memories of his hands on me, of his breath on my face. I’d been disorientated and weak from the transport, still adjusting to the drug, and he’d taken advantage. But I wasn’t that woman

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