by Kit Rocha
Table of Contents
Dedication
Welcome to Sector Four
The Final Story...
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Markovic
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Cruz
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Penelope
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Jasper
Ace
Mad
Lex
Ashwin
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Declan
Six Months Later
Before You Leave Sector Four
Read the First Chapter of Ashwin...
About the Author
Acknowledgements
Copyright Information
Dedication
for everyone who fights the darkness
with love and hope.
for life.
♥
Welcome to Sector Four
The book you're reading is part of the Beyond series, stories set in a post-apocalyptic world where the rich and powerful have claimed ownership of the country's only self-sustaining city. Those who live within Eden's walls must abide by a strict moral code or risk exile to the brutal, lawless sectors.
Gangs and petty dictators rule the slums, but not all kings are created equal. Dallas O'Kane and his brotherhood of bootleggers are the only authority in Sector Four. Cross them at your peril. But pledge your loyalty, and you might be invited into their world of passion and power, sex and sin. Just remember: if you're an O'Kane, you're an O'Kane for life.
Find out more in the Beyond Series Guide. Keep up with the latest news and book releases from Kit Rocha and the O'Kanes by subscribing to the announcement list.
THE BEYOND SERIES
#1: Beyond Shame, #2: Beyond Control, #3: Beyond Pain, #3.5: Beyond Temptation, #4: Beyond Jealousy, #4.5: Beyond Solitude, #5: Beyond Addiction, #5.5: Beyond Possession, #6: Beyond Innocence, #7: Beyond Ruin, #8: Beyond Ecstasy, #9: Beyond Surrender
SERIES BUNDLES
Volume One (Books #1, #2 & #3)
Volume Two (Books #4, #5 & #6)
The Novellas (Novellas #3.5, #4.5 & #5.5)
The Final Story...
Nessa's the heart of O'Kane liquor.
Ryder's the brains of the revolution.
They're facing a war that could end their world. Again.
Chapter One
Another man went down from a blow he should have seen coming a mile away, and Ryder gritted his teeth as he shook the sweat from his skin.
He took a deep breath as he circled his fallen opponent, both steadying his voice and raising it so that the gathered crowd could hear his words. "The city soldiers won't be punching you in the kidneys," he told them. "They'll be stabbing you. If you're forced into close contact, you damn sure better be faster than them. It's not a suggestion. It's survival."
The trainees murmured. The man on the ground looked up, and Ryder immediately wanted to unthink the word. He was barely more than a kid, one of the small-timers who'd probably been running drugs for Mac Fleming since he learned how to tie his own shoes.
Too bad his predecessor hadn't been more focused on training his people. Now Ryder was stuck with them, poor excuses for soldiers in the midst of a full-on fucking war.
He helped the kid up, then slapped him on the back. "Take a break. Get some water."
He nodded and jogged off toward the edge of the outdoor area they'd roped off on the loading dock of one of the smaller factories. It was small, too small for some of the exercises Ryder wanted to set up, but he didn't dare base his operations in a higher-profile target area. One good shell from the city could wipe out Sector Five's entire contribution to the rebellion.
Then again, if the bastards had any shells to drop, they'd have already rained them down on the sectors like candy falling out of a fucking piñata.
Ryder gestured for two more men to step forward and spar with each other, then joined Hector, his second-in-command, on the top platform of the portable stairs overlooking the dock. "What do you think?"
"I think it's a damned miracle the Flemings held on to this sector so long with these kinds of people." Hector gripped the metal railing and stared down, his brows drawn together and his lips curled into a frown. "You've got half a dozen—maybe—who wouldn't have washed out under Jim."
No, Jim Jernigan had ruled Sector Eight with iron will and militaristic efficiency. Most people had assumed it was out of practicality—in manufacturing, order and control meant productivity—but Ryder knew the truth.
Jim had spent decades readying himself for war.
Ryder surveyed the scene before them, lit only by moonlight and the distant, eerie glow from the lights of the city's electrified wall. "Jim's gone," he reminded Hector. "And this is what we have to work with. Think you can get it done?"
"How scary do I get to be?"
"As scary as you need to be to whip their asses into shape before—"
The night went black, darkness settling over the dock like a blanket, along with an almost ethereal stillness that took Ryder a moment to process.
The moment he did, he shot toward the street, with Hector hard on his heels. He skidded to a stop when he saw the scant lights scattered up and down the block still twinkling in factory windows and apartments.
"It's just the city," he muttered.
Hector stared. "That's not fucking possible."
Not possible—unless you had a pet hacker in your back pocket. "O'Kane," Ryder growled between clenched teeth.
"You think he turned the lights off?" Hector jabbed a finger in the direction of the city. "In Eden?"
"Yeah." And without a word of discussion—or, shit, straight-up warning. "Can you handle this? I need to pay the man a visit."
Hector scrubbed a hand over his face before squinting at the wall. "Yeah, I can manage shit here. It's not like Eden's gonna have time to fuck with our western border, not with their power down for the first time since the Flares. Fuck, people in there are gonna lose their damn minds."
"Stay safe," Ryder advised. "If something does happen, you know what to do."
He strode back onto the dock, where the low murmur had risen to a frightened rumble. "Relax," he announced. "Blackout in the city. They're getting a taste of their own medicine, is all."
He didn't wait to see if the words reassured them, because he couldn't help it if they didn't. He snagged his shirt from the bench along the wall, hauled it over his head, and started walking toward Sector Four.
People had begun spilling out of their homes at the edge of the manufacturing district. They stood, staring toward the vast darkness of the city, confused and terrified. Ryder walked past them in silence, slipping unnoticed between clusters.
The tight knot of tension at the base of his skull started to ease as he walked. He hadn't even realized until now just how much the low, incessant buzz of electricity coursing off the wall had hurt. It was the kind of pain that crept up on you, that built from nothing so gradually that you only appreciated how awful it had been once it was gone.
He crossed the border street from Sector Five and into Four. The bustling street had been quiet
since Eden's first big attack on the sectors, the invasion that had heralded the true beginning of the war. People were seeking safer spaces these days.
Ryder couldn't blame them.
The Broken Circle, the centerpiece of Dallas O'Kane's empire, usually teemed with noise and activity. O'Kane kept the dancers hot and the drinks cold, and there was plenty enough of both—if you had the cash. The place was packed tonight, but the stage was dark and empty, and everyone was drinking.
A familiar figure lurked just inside the door, arms crossed over his chest, face fixed in a semipermanent scowl. In all the time he'd known him, Ryder had almost never seen Finn smile.
He didn't now, either. "Ryder. I didn't hear you were coming."
He snorted. "Yeah? I haven't heard a lot of things."
Understanding swept over Finn's expression, and he turned to the bar. "Zan! Can you watch the door for a bit?"
The glowering man nodded. "No problem."
"Come on." Finn led Ryder along the side of the room, weaving between tables and glaring to scatter drunks from their path. On the back wall, he pushed through a door marked STAFF that spilled into a dimly lit hallway.
The door swung shut behind them, muffling the music and the noise from the crowd. "You saw the city, I guess. Crazy shit, huh?"
"I take it you're not surprised."
"Are you?" When they reached the end of the hall, Finn gestured him up the stairs. "You worked with Noah long enough to know that crazy motherfucker could do it. Dallas just had to take him off the leash."
Honestly, Ryder had always suspected that Noah was bullshitting about the extent of his talents, and the only reason Mac Fleming had bought into the whole thing was because of his goddamn ego. Any edge over O'Kane, and Fleming would have snatched it up with both hands.
Even if that edge had really been working for O'Kane all along.
"Never trust a double agent," he muttered. "I should know."
"Well, trust wasn't a thing we did in Five anyway." Finn paused on the landing, one hand on the doorknob. "I'm loyal to O'Kane, but I don't forget my debts. I never told him about you."
Ryder was pretty sure Dallas had figured out who he was—and who had put him in place—the moment he took over Sector Five. "Never occurred to me. You're a man of honor, Finn."
"I'm trying to be." He lifted his arm, showing off the vibrant tattoo of a flame-haired pin-up peeking from behind a peacock-feather fan. "Got plenty of reasons to fight now."
Before Ryder could reply, the door swung open. Jasper McCray stood there, surveying them both. He was dressed like Finn, with enough leather and silver spikes and chains to keep sector artisans ass-deep in credits for months.
A hint of wry amusement tilted his mouth at one corner. "Come on in."
Finn waved Ryder ahead of him. "I'm bringing him to talk to the boss. Is he…?"
"Busy." Jasper leaned against the wall and nodded to a closed door across the room. Something thudded rhythmically against it from the other side, shaking it in its frame, and Jasper's smile widened. "Otherwise occupied?"
"I see." Ryder dropped to a seat at the table, propped his feet up, and studied the numerous screens lining the back wall of the conference room. Half of them were dark at the moment, with no new intelligence coming in from the field to display. "I imagine fucking over the city is quite a rush."
The man at the opposite side of the table regarded Ryder warily over the edge of his computer screen. "Ryder."
Ryder said nothing.
Jasper chuckled as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket. "I like this guy."
"You would," Noah muttered, going back to his typing as the door behind him slammed open.
Dallas O'Kane strolled into the room, smug and disheveled and completely satisfied with life. His clothes were rumpled, his belt was unbuckled, and he had rising welts on his cheek that looked like a woman had raked his face with her fingernails.
Show-off.
Jas finished lighting the cigarette and held it out. Dallas plucked it from his fingers and jammed it between his lips before lazily buckling his belt. Only then did he shove his fingers through his hair and glance at Ryder. "You here about the city?"
He held out both hands. "What else? I could have used a heads-up."
Dallas hauled a chair back from the table and sank into it. "You worried this is gonna hurt you?"
He hadn't really considered that. They were at war, for fuck's sake—damn near everything had the potential to hurt him, and this was low on the list. "No, but it's hard for me to help you bring them down if I don't know what's going on."
"It'll be hard for you to help us bring them down from over in Five," Dallas countered. "We can't risk putting our plans on the networks. I could have sent a messenger this time, but what about next time, or the time after that?" He shrugged. "You stayed on the front line. I figured you wanted to be a soldier, not a general."
What he wanted to be didn't matter. What mattered was the mission, the goal that had been drilled into him for as long as he could remember, and he'd be whatever he had to be to get it done.
"I am a soldier," he answered carefully. "And I will be on the front lines when I'm needed there. In the meantime, what I want is to make myself useful, not sit on the sidelines."
"Sounds fair." Lex watched him from the open doorway, her red-tipped fingers wrapped around the jamb. "What do you think, Declan?"
Dallas leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving Ryder's. "I think he might be the only man alive who knew what was going on inside Jim Jernigan's head."
"That's right." Dallas might be the face of the revolution, but Jim had been planning it since they were all crawling around in diapers.
Dallas nodded slowly and then waved toward the door. "Finn, Noah. Out."
Finn rolled to his feet without hesitation and nodded at Ryder before heading out the door. Noah only paused to sweep up a tablet and say, "I'll be in the basement."
When the door swung shut, Dallas passed his cigarette to Lex and leaned forward to brace his elbows on the table. "Having your ass parked in my command center is a win for me. But are you sure you want to leave your sector when Eden's camped out on your western border?"
The man spoke as if Five was Ryder's home. "I left my sector a long time ago. The people in Five deserve all the protection I can provide, and this is the best way for me to do that."
Dallas nodded again. "All right. Lex can find you a place to stay. I assume you've got someone who can keep the medicine flowing?"
"I do." Factories were factories, and Hector had forgotten more about their practical operation than Ryder had ever bothered to learn.
"Then make your arrangements, and we'll make ours." Dallas slid a tablet down the table, and Ryder caught it as it slipped off the edge. "That has a preliminary list of all the ways Noah thinks he can compromise Eden's systems. The electricity was just the beginning. Come back here before lunch tomorrow for our daily strategy meeting, and be ready to talk about what comes next."
The blank screen reflected Ryder's face as he stared down at it. "I'll station a team near the city gate in Five. Just in case."
"Good." Dallas dug his own cigarette case out of his pocket and shoved one between his lips. "I imagine the city's gonna be busy keeping order tonight, but come dawn we'll all want to be ready."
Ryder had a binder hidden back in his penthouse, a ragged, frayed thing that Jim had been filling with information and conjecture for decades. Noah Lennox might be able to hack Eden's systems and turn off all the lights, but that book—Jim's war book?
That was the thing that could win this. And tomorrow's strategy meeting was the perfect time to reveal the depths of his mentor's determination—and obsession.
"I'll see you tomorrow morning." He stood and held out his hand.
Dallas rose to his feet and clasped it. "Welcome aboard, Ryder."
Chapter Two
War was fucking up Nessa's routine.
She flinched as soon as t
he thought formed and shoved it away. She used the force of her irritation at herself to power through lifting the next two boxes of unaged grain alcohol onto the pallet in front of her.
War killed people. It was still killing people. In the last week alone, it had taken Hawk's mentor and one of his sisters. It had taken Noelle's father. It had taken dozens or maybe even hundreds of people Nessa had never known and would now never meet.
It had taken a whole damn sector—Six was still smoldering. The smoke from the fires had been hanging heavy in the sky for days, dampening the sun and turning the moon a sickly red-orange color that everyone had carefully avoided comparing to blood.
War was ruining everyone's lives. Everyone's but hers, because Nessa lived behind too many layers of protective cotton to come close to danger. The biggest disruption to her life had been the shift in production priorities. These days her alcohol went straight into mass-produced glass bottles instead of carefully charred barrels. In five years, maybe, she'd be feeling the pinch. She'd walk down her rows of aging barrels and see a gap in the dates—weeks' or months' worth of product that had been diverted to medicinal purposes.
If her aging barrels still existed in five years. If any of this existed.
Gritting her teeth, she nudged the toe of her boot under the next crate, using the tiny bit of leverage to help her lift. Her arms and back would be aching by the end of the day, but the men who usually loaded the pallets were out patrolling the sector, risking bullets from the panicked population and the enemy.
Her sore arms didn't rate much sympathy.
"Let me get that."
She'd only heard his voice a few times, but it didn't matter. It was carved into her memory, and it came with tingles and goose bumps and a shit-ton of warning bells. Danger, danger, danger—
Then she turned to face him, and it really didn't matter.
Ryder was just...gorgeous. Gut-punch gorgeous, with smooth brown skin and perfect cheekbones and a carved jaw and lips that looked like the only soft thing about him. The last time she'd seen him, he'd been dressed with effortless elegance in a tailored suit that showed off broad shoulders and a narrow waist.