Prologue

“Damien, you must always remember who you are!” his mother wheezed before she fell back against her pillows, the words interrupted by her severe cough filling the room.

“I will, Mom. I promise. You have to take your medicine now,” Damien begged the frail woman.

“I’m dying, Damien. Those little pills can’t help me any longer,” she whispered, causing fear to cut through the heart of the thirteen year old boy.

“We gotta go to the hospital, Mom. Please,” Damien begged.

“Not this time, son. Not this time. I’m tired, Damien. I just need rest. You have to promise me that you’ll never forget who you are. They took everything from us. Everything! They killed your father, just as surely as if they would’ve walked up and stabbed him in the heart. If they wouldn’t have stolen all he’d worked so hard for his entire life, he wouldn’t have died the way he did. He wouldn’t have left us all alone and broken, without a penny to our name.”

“I know, Mom. I’ll make them pay. I promise you, I will…” Damien trailed off, reaching deep inside for the courage to keep him from crying.

“Don’t you shed tears, boy! You better not disgrace me in my dyin’ moments. Do you hear me?” his mother scolded.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry, Mom,” Damien said, willing to say anything to make that censure leave her eyes.

He hated to see her in so much pain, knowing there was nothing he could do. She was mean, always verbally and physically abusive…, but she was his mom. She had the right to be mean because she’d had to endure a hard life, especially because of having him. He knew he was nothing but a burden to her, which was why he had to fulfill his promise.

“I’m going to sleep now, Damien. If I don’t wake up this time, you never forget why I’m dyin’ like this. You never forget it’s those people, those rotten bastards who left us like this. If they wouldn’t have taken everything, I’d be all better. I coulda afforded the medicine I needed to stay alive. You coulda went to a good school. You get them, Damien. You get them real good.”

His mother’s voice faded as she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep. Fifteen minutes later her breathing stopped.

Damien sat by her bed for another hour before finally standing up and walking from the room. One lone tear slipped from his dark green eyes. He didn’t turn back around and look at her lifeless body - there was no reason to. He didn’t even stop to gather any possessions from their meager apartment.

There was nothing worth taking. He’d slept on the floor from the time he was a baby. His clothes were tattered and the cupboards desolate. He’d never received a gift for any reason. There was literally nothing in the home to take.

It was their fault – all of it. His mom could’ve been a good mother, if only they hadn’t ruined her. Some people were just greedy, out to get their hands on everything. Well, they’d pay. They’d pay if it was the last thing he did.

He walked from the house – vowing never to go back to such conditions again, though he’d never forget how much he’d suffered. He’d seek revenge on those who’d killed his mother, those who were supposed to be his family. He didn’t care how long it took…

Four Years later

Damien strutted through the school yard, looking for a fight. None of the boys would look him in the face. They were used to the set of his shoulders, the gleam in his eyes, almost begging for a challenge. He was just waiting for one of them to look at him wrong, or say the simplest remark to set him off – giving him an excuse to thoroughly waste them.

They’d lose – they were well aware of the speed with which Damien threw a punch, after witnessing plenty of his brawls in the past. His childhood had made him rage internally, and it was always at a low simmer, ready to ignite. The only reason he stayed in school was because he promised his mother. He had to finish school, had to succeed so he could seek revenge on those who’d killed both his parents.

“Shut–up, Skank!”

Damien turned to find a petite girl being pushed to the ground by a group of girls. Normally, he wouldn’t get involved. He didn’t hit girls, no matter how much fury reigned inside him. He turned to walk away as one of the gang grabbed the girl on the ground by her hair and yanked her head back, spitting in her face.

The small girl in clothing as tattered as his own was sobbing as another one of the older girls slapped her. Where in the hell were the teachers? He looked around, not seeing anyone doing anything to stop the bullying.

A third teenager in the group stepped forward and kicked the girl in her ribs and he’d seen enough. He strode over to them.

“You want to try that crap on me?” he asked, his voice thundering across the yard.

“Go away, white trash,” one of the snobby girls snapped as she loosened her grasp to glare at him.

He smiled at her, a smile full of evil delight. Let her think he was crazy. She could go running home to mommy, sobbing about the guy who nearly took her life.

“Let’s get out of her Stacy,” one of the other girls said, nervously looking back and forth between him and her friend.

“I’d listen to your friend, Stacy,” he paused, “before something really bad happens,” he threatened. There was no mistaking the menace in his voice as he stepped closer to the main tormentor.

She stumbled backward, finally realizing her danger. Her glare disappeared, anger transforming into an expression of fear.

“I’m telling Mr. Sorenson,” she threatened as she took another step back.

“Go ahead. As a matter-of-fact, I think I’ll take this girl to his office now,” Damien told her.

The pack of intimidators scampered off, he was sure to beat him to the principle. He didn’t care what they had to say. It was obvious the girl on the ground had been the victim.

“Thank you,” she wheezed as he bent down to see how badly she was hurt.

“I’m going to lift you up. You need to see the nurse,” he said as he gently stretched his hand out and wiped the other girls disgusting spittle from her face. Her entire body was shaking.

“I’m fine,” she told him on a trembling voice as she tried to sit up.

“Yeah, real fine,” he said with sarcasm, but there was no heat behind his words. He felt nothing but sympathy for the young girl.

He carefully slid his hands beneath her legs and back and lifted her into his arms, barely able to detect her undernourished body against his own.

“What’s your name?” she asked as she rested her head against his chest. He felt his cold heart heat up at the sound of her trusting voice.

“Damien.”

“I’m Trinity. Thanks for saving me,” she said before she passed out in his arms. He picked up his speed and rushed to the nurse’s station, and she quickly called the ambulance.

From that day on, he and Trinity became inseparable. She was his best friend, his confidant, his family – his sister. She was the only person in the entire world keeping the demons at bay – making him remember to love instead of only hate.

She was also the only woman he trusted, even as the years passed. He used women, used them to satisfy his needs, but felt no guilt, as the type of women he dated were those who used him just as much, used his name, his power, and whatever it was they thought they could get from him.

Damien still never forgot where he came from – never forgot the promise he made to his mother. There were weeks, months, years even when it was pushed to the back of his mind. Only because of Trinity, because of his love for his friend. Revenge would happen, though – at any cost.

Chapter One

Fifteen Years Later

Sierra was exhausted.

Deeply, utterly, fall-on-her-face exhausted.

She also had a feeling of unmitigated accomplishment. The wedding was over. With zero regret, she tossed the slightly wilted Calla Lilies into the nearest garbage can, and then found a chair to rest in for a few minutes.

It had been a circus, but it was over. Her incredibly babied, and very spoiled little sister was married to the man of her dreams. She loved her sister, though she didn’t know why, really. For the past twenty-three years, her father had dotted on Sandy, spoiled her, given her everything.

He hadn’t been so kind to Sierra. She’d never forget when she was six years old, her sister only four. Their mother had died in an automobile crash. From that moment on, her life had been hell.

Her father told her almost daily that her mother was a cheating whore and that Sierra most likely wasn’t even his kid. He’d also told her, he owned her and would make her pay for her mother’s transgressions. The beatings had begun, only escalating through the years.

He was a smart man, respected in the business community. She feared him, knowing he could make her life so much worse than it was. She’d learned at a young age if she just suffered silently through the pain, he’d stop much faster. If she shouted out, he seemed to get an evil glee from it, and would go on and on.

She ran away once. A shiver passed through her body remembering the pain she’d gone through when he’d found her. She’d been bruised from head to toe, unable to leave her bed for two weeks. Her father had kept her at a cottage on the outskirts of town so the servants wouldn’t get suspicious.

Though a couple had been brave enough not only to suspect, but ask her if she was okay, she learned quickly never to say anything. The sympathetic employees quickly disappeared. Soon, no one would help her, or look out for her. She learned silent suffering was the key to survival.

Sierra looked around the reception as she pulled herself out of her depressing memories. The event was still going strong, causing her to sigh. Her sister had departed a while ago, amid a sea of birdseed, and the crowd calling out advice. The moment the Limo pulled away, Sierra’s fake smile had vanished.

Friends, from near and far, were taking advantage of the open bar, free food, and euphoria at being at the exclusive country club. It was all a joke. None of them cared one iota about Sandy. Sierra figured it didn’t matter as her little sister didn’t care about anyone but herself, anyway.

The one positive note to the entire charade was that at least Sierra wouldn’t have to watch as Sandy acted like a brat, threw a fit, and then got her way. She’d learned quickly that if Sierra didn’t do what she wanted, all she had to do was complain to her father, and he’d make Sierra into Sandy’s servant.

Sandy was Mason’s problem now, and Sierra hoped her father would let her leave now that Sandy had moved out. There was no reason to keep her locked up in his enormous mansion.

Sierra felt the slightest pang to her heart as Mason’s name popped into her head. She slowly got to her feet, making her way up to her room. Thank goodness she was staying there that night. She didn’t have the energy to drive home.

As she climbed in the elevator, her heart pounded while thinking about Mason. She thought she’d been in love with him, deeply, over-the-moon in love. She may have been, but it had obviously been one sided because the moment Sandy decided she wanted him, he’d followed her sister like the willing puppy he’d turned out to be.