Copyright
RENEGADES by Natalie Bennett
© 2020 by Natalie Bennett. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where the publisher or author specifically grant permission.
Cover Design: COVERS BY COMBS
Editing by: Pinpoint Editing
Blurb
Of the devil’s flesh and bone, the prince is ready to claim his throne.
I want power.
Cam wants penance.
I've got a black cult backing my decisions.
He's got demons hungry for carnage.
Everything was going smoothly.
Until her.
She's the forbidden fruit we're supposed to beware of, but something carnal is growing between us.
Now, with tensions mounting between various factions, a bloodbath looms on the horizon. Chaos and destruction start to erupt across the Badlands. Everything comes down to one thing.
Survival of the worst.
Forewarning, this isn't a cookie cutter romance. This isn't about love. This is a story of brutal possession in a world without morals. Enter at your own detriment. ;)
DEDICATION
To everyone that’s been here since Savages, thank you for loving the Badlands and all its sinners as much as I do.
Reading Order
Badlands
Savages
Deviants
Outcasts
Heathens
Badlands: Next Generation
Degenerates
Hellions
Renegades
Miscreants
2021
Savages .0—Rome+Cali
Rebels
Tyrants
Venomous
Table of Contents
Copyright
Blurb
Playlist
EPIGRAPH
ONE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
TWO
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
EPILOGUE
MISCREANTS
AUTHOR’S NOTE
PERICULUM
Periculum Excerpt
OTHER BOOKS
KEEP IN TOUCH
Playlist
Three Days Grace—World So Cold
DeathByRomy—No More
Being As An Ocean—Alone
Slaves—Heavier
Came As Romans—Learning to Survive
Carrie Underwood—Renegade Runaway
Dream State—Hand In Hand
Ryan Caraveo—Ghost
Savage After Midnight—Heartless
Fire From Gods—Right Now
Breaking Benjamin—Dance With The Devil
Ali Gatie—Moonlight
I Prevail—Let Me Be Sad
Fire From Gods—American Sun
Badflower—Ghost
Juice Wrld—Empty
Gabrielle Aplin—Losing Me
Billie Eillish—Everything I Wanted
Ozzy Osbourne—Under The Graveyard
Written By Wolves—To Tell You The Truth
Palisades—Erase The Pain
Kerli—Savages
Family Tree
Romero + Cali
Adelaide
Lucifuge
Belladonna
Grimm + Arlen
Nyx
Samael
Blue + Cobra
Braxton AKA Butcher
Cameron
Lilith
EPIGRAPH
ROMERO
Poor preparation leads to poor results.
I was exactly the kind of asshole to rub in the fact that I had been right all along. Which wasn’t anything new because I was always right. I didn’t achieve being the King of the Badlands based off how extremely good I looked. My mind had always been my sharpest weapon.
Now that things were falling apart, those in my innermost circle were counting on me for a solution.
But this wasn’t my battle or theirs. It was our children’s.
We couldn’t hold their hands or solve all their problems for them. Our job was simply to make sure they not only survived this world but thrived in it. They were fortunate enough to have been given a solid foundation. Now was the time to begin constructing their empire upon it.
Having a mass of acolytes at their back wasn’t enough. It was an undeniable asset, sure, an irrefutable extension of our family. However, quantity meant nothing if there wasn’t any unity. There had to be respect and trust, not needing constant reassurance that the person at your side would always look out for your best interests, even when that meant making the difficult decisions liable to piss you off.
They needed to do what the original Savages had: move as one.
To do that successfully, they needed someone who would put them on the right track and ensure they stayed the course. It couldn’t be me.
My story was now revolving around them, and before things could spiral any further out of control, I was going to activate my trump card. I would bring in the one person I knew could do what needed to be done.
I’d spent years cultivating, molding, and teaching him all he would need to know. His aggression and selfishness would be what pulled this band of degenerates together and prepared them to reign over a world that would never be kind to anything with a heartbeat.
He was one of the few people I trusted to protect the legacy my queen and I had created.
With recent tragedies turning out to be a blessing in disguise, he would no longer have to do it alone.
Things couldn’t have worked out any better.
Two cunning boys that had grown into savage young men.
One was full of pain and rage.
The other had an unquenchable thirst for power and blood.
Both were of the devil’s flesh and bone, and it was time for them to step up and claim their rightful throne.
They could, and they would, bring into existence the type of Savages the Badlands had never seen before.
ONE
Wickedness with beauty is the devil's hook baited.
CHAPTER ONE
The room was stuck in a state of suffocating apprehension, the ticking of the clock not unlike the timer of a bomb. Every swish of its tiny second hand brought the beasts in the corridor a little closer. There was no way to stop what was moments away from happening.
Marcy pressed into my side, seeking comfort and protection. I understood her need to feel safe. We all craved security, even if it were just an illusion.
Claire and Dasia had joined us on our corner bunk only minutes ago, and now we all squeezed together on the bottom mattress.
“They’re going to take me,” Dasia whimpered, drawing further into herself.
“They won’t,” Marcy reassured her. “You were c
hosen at last selection.”
Keeping my doubts to myself, I purposely avoided Claire’s knowing gaze, flexing my muscles to rid them of their soreness. Had Dasia truly been selected for assimilation to the final phase of A.R.C, she would have received her branding within two days.
We were now at the end of four, and no word had been sent.
The remaining three girls assigned to our room huddled together in a similar fashion on another bunk.
Two of them were marked, making them as safe as they could be in this hellish covenant. The third trembled with fear, having foresight of what would happen to her.
As door after door was thrown open, the sound of steel slamming into stone echoed through the old asylum. Terrified screams followed each one swiftly. They got off on this, the guerillas of A.R.C. There wasn’t a need to go into every single room, yet they did it anyway for the simple fact that fear excited them.
The idea of terrifying the girls made the monthly cleansings something they eagerly looked forward to. These men were cowards given too much power, lacking balls and spines.
One last bang, and I knew our room was next.
My hollow stomach twisted into a painful knot, beads of sweat gathering on my nape. I wasn’t afraid. I’d been in this life too long for that and seen this one too many times.
I was angry, dreading the outcome for my friend. When the door of our room met with the wall, Dasia grabbed hold of my hand, her grip smashing my fingers together painfully. I gritted my teeth to keep quiet, swallowing down a whimpered protest.
Four heavy-footed men entered, all donning the A.R.C’s navy hued uniform. Light from the hall dared to creep in behind them, illuminating General Hendrix’s thick head of silver hair. His stocky form seemed to fill the open space entirely. His hands on his hips and the slight twist of his lips was telling for how much he was enjoying himself.
“Dasia Jane. Emily Jane. You have been named for cleansing,” his second in command announced loudly.
A few tense seconds passed with no one speaking or moving. The world itself felt as if it had stopped turning and was now holding its breath. This was the part where both parties named were to stand and obediently go along with the night’s itinerary.
However, unlike the younger girls or those newly acquired, the ones that still had pitiful naivety, each of us within these four walls knew that once Dasia and Emily left this room, we would never see them again.
Dasia being selected had given me hope all would be well. We were going to assimilate.
This evening was no longer supposed to be a possibility.
Now, facing the inevitable, I found it impossible to idly sit by and watch one of my only friends being dragged away and punished for doing something as natural as aging.
“You’re wrong,” I objected.
“Star,” Claire hissed in warning.
Forcibly untangling my fingers from Dasia’s, I gritted my teeth and scooted my aching body forward, ignoring both Claire and the sharp pain radiating up and down my back.
Hendrix’s lips lifted in an amused grin, and he nudged the man beside him. “She must not have gotten enough last night.”
I ignored that jab. I’d been subjected to crucifixion more times than I could count on both hands, no pun intended. I was above the taunts.
His timeline was off, anyway.
Technically, I had been delivered back to my room a mere six hours ago, directly after my wounds were tended. Not last night.
Standing from the bed, I straightened my spine and stared into Hendrix’s brown, beady eyes. Flesh feeling as if it were going to split open more than it already had, I locked my legs to prevent myself from sinking back down.
“Dasia was selected by Exarch Mosley, personally. Your chart is wrong.”
Hendrix stepped forward, lining steel-toed boots with barren feet.
“No, little girl. You’re the one who is wrong. Moss changed his mind and wisely chose Bridgette, the blonde with the peach-shaped ass. So, you’d best go on and step out of my way.”
With a slight shake of my head, I refused.
I was unable to willingly let her go no matter how stupidly futile this was. I was pushing it, practically begging to be severely punished once again for my insubordination.
I didn’t care.
“Star, it’s okay,” Dasia whispered, her voice breaking.
Unable to affix the mask I wore so often to hide my emotions, Hendrix was able to see my small ember of hope fading right before his merciless eyes. I knew he took great pleasure in snuffing it out.
“Take them,” he commanded, slamming a fist into my midsection. I doubled over, choking out a “No,” and clutching my stomach. Pushed aside with ease, I lifted my head just as one of the soldiers took hold of Dasia’s forearm and began to haul her towards the exit.
In one minuscule second, a small lapse of time between submitting or going on the offense, I chose the latter. Anger and hatred burned like acid in my aching gut, disintegrating every rational thought my brain tried to present. A rageful scream poured from my lungs, rendering Hendrix motionless for the briefest moment.
The pain riddling my body was wiped away by an onslaught of adrenaline. I lunged at him. Unprepared for my attack, he stumbled to the side. I clung to his form, tangling bruised fingers in fistfuls of hair. I fully intended to tear it from his scalp.
This would never be enough. I couldn’t implement the kind of pain he did when he delivered a set of lashes to my back. But it felt good.
Claire and Marcy followed my lead, feebly attempting to save Dasia.
Cries came from the other side of the room as Emily was dragged away by another solider, who must have been lingering in the hall.
A stray palm collided with my nose, and I found myself flying, landing with a soft “humph,” near the end of another bunk. Blood spurted from my nostrils, siphoning to my lips. It didn’t immediately faze me. The taste of it was one I had become accustomed to.
“What are you doing?” Hendrix yelled at the man who had struck me. “No hits to her face!” He shoved his hands through his hair to smooth it back down, huffing and puffing like an enraged bull. His eyes bored down on me and I couldn’t help but sneer up at him.
“Take them to the angel, these ones to the pens, and her,” he jabbed a finger furiously in my direction, “put that psychotic bitch back in her cage!”
His orders were followed with no rebuttal. Rough hands grabbed at me before I could fully rise, two guerrillas on each side. Not given a chance to get my bearings, I was dragged from the room with my legs kicking out to find a foothold.
There was no doubt about it now, I would surely be punished again. They’d make me hurt so much more than I already did—physically—but they’d never dare kill me. I was too important to the Cardinal’s cause.
His Exarchs preached that I was divine purity, the answer to all the covenants’ prayers. They needed me. Their key to happiness rested at my unwilling feet. Fucking cowards.
Dasia and Emily were paraded through the asylum in front of me.
We went past all the open doors where more than a few terrified and broken-hearted girls remained.
Some had known what tonight would bring while others were left in a state of confusion, any illusions they had about A.R.C from when they first arrived had just gotten shattered by the ugly truth of their new reality. I’d been in their shoes once.
Behind me, Claire and Marcy were forced down the same barren, depleted hall. Large double doors were thrown open, and out into the night we went. The instant we crossed over the threshold it was as if the air skimmed directly over my pain receptors.
I became acutely aware of the throbbing in my nose. And the blood. There was so much blood. I tasted it on my tongue and felt it racing in parallels down my back.
My arms ached, stiff from being tied in the shape of a T just hours ago. My feet too, now skidding over asphalt.
No one paid our envoy much attention, but that wasn’t anythin
g out of the norm. The majority of the guerrillas didn’t give a damn about our wellbeing. They were only here to protect the Exarchs and keep us obediently in line.
Occasionally they put their cocks in places they didn’t belong, tainting what was meant to remain ‘pure.’ Their careless actions had led to many girls being buried alive for committing such a vile act.
Off in the far distance, the lights of Cathedral A.R.C glowed like a beacon for anyone who might happen upon it if lost or wandering in the middle of the night. It was a symbol of false hope if there ever was one.
Those seeking shelter would come for safety and find themselves sacrificed or coerced for the covenant’s greater good.
My cage, which was nothing more than an old gazebo affixed with bars and a gate to keep me locked inside, began to take shape. Once we reached it, I was tossed in without a backward glance. My knees and palms smacked against straw covered wood with a loud thwack.
The rounded pens behind the gazebo rattled as Marcy and Claire were shoved inside in the same fashion. Their discipline would be decided by the Cardinal when he learned of their offenses. After it was doled out, they would be allowed to return to our room.
My punishment would always lead back to this. This damned unholy cage.
I spent so much time locked away that there was now a bucket for me to defecate in and a burlap blanket to cover up with when the Badlands’ temperature dropped.
I used my wrist to rid my face of blood and then tentatively touched my nose. I was relieved to find it wasn’t broken, just hurt like hell. Pushing to my feet, I turned and walked slowly to the gate. I knew the automatic lock was already in place; my intention was solely to see the procession being led to the weeping angel a few yards away.
Her weathered wings were stretched skyward and both hands covered her face. A charred cross was at her back, serving as a torch for every consecrated cleansing and ceremony that took place. Much like the one just seconds away from happensing.
It’d been burned so many times I couldn’t believe it was still standing.
Renegades: Badlands Next Generation Page 1