Blind Faith (Shattered Lives, Book Four) Read online

  “I wish I was a better father to you. Being like this is not something any lad deserves. Some days, I just want to run away, but then I think of how it would hurt your mummy…and your granny. When those thoughts strike, your face and little smile, these chubby arms of yours, all come to mind. You need to know if you choose not to love me, or find me too unstable to be around, I won’t blame you in the slightest. But it scares me, monkey. I don’t know what I would do in a world without you. It wouldn’t be pretty.”

  I hoisted him up on my shoulder and carried on with the rocking. Circling my hand around his back, I hummed a few lullabies. He grew heavier against my body, his breathing mellowing out.

  After waiting several minutes, knowing he was out, I stood and moved to his crib, doing my best not to disturb him. As I laid him down, all his limbs kicked out, then he settled.

  I stared down at my son. How could this beautiful, innocent lad be stuck with a man like me? It was unjust. I felt sorrow for him while he slept innocently, oblivious of all that ailed me.

  Shattered Lives: Blind Faith

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright © 2015 by Rissa Blakeley. All rights reserved.

  Published by Rissa Blakeley.

  Cover Art & Design by Cover-It Designs

  Edited by Kim's Editing Services

  Vector Artwork by Gert Erasmus Photo Editing

  Cover Photo copyright microworks – Fotolia

  E-Book Layout & Design by Ryan Fitzgerald

  The following is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living, dead, or undead is entirely coincidental.

  Except in the case of brief quotations for the purpose of critical analysis or review, no part of this book may be used, reproduced, or transmitted via any means (electronic, mechanical, or otherwise) without express, written permission from the author.

  All artwork used in the Shattered Lives series cannot be reproduced without written permission from the author, the cover art designer from Cover-It Designs, and vector artist from Gert Erasmus Photo Editing except in the case of author-approved promotions, critical articles, and reviews.

  Due to the dynamic nature of the Internet, website links contained within this book may be outdated and/or no longer valid.

  Edition: November 2015

  Table of Contents

  Blind Faith

  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

  Chapter 56

  Full Circle (Teaser)

  About the Author

  Militia,

  First, thank you for the support you have given me. You all have been wonderful, and it’s been a pleasure to get to know you!

  I know some of you felt gutted after Fractured Hearts. I did, as well. That story did a number on me. Let’s just say I still get dirty looks from The Boss if I ever bring up Quinn.

  I have received many questions from readers regarding her and all the other characters’ deaths, but the one I get the most is… “WHY?!?!?!” Well, here’s what happened…

  Nick had already died. He just existed in the time and space in which his body remained. When Claire and Willow died, the moment he spent with them in the clinic was his death, as well. He’d already accepted his fate and waited out the sentence until the time came.

  Yes, he and Josie had a few good times, but his heart was pumping out the last few beats. No matter what Nick wanted or how hard he tried, nothing could bring back the joy he felt when he was with Claire. Even though Josie gave him a few happy moments to take with him, Nick was still lost and empty.

  As for Quinn… When I had a vision of the ending of this series way back in Awakened Desires, Quinn was not standing in the line-up. It was a bit shocking to see that because I totally felt an HEA for her and Gunther. With the picture constantly flashing in my head, I knew she was going to die at some point. Then it happened.

  As I wrote the scene, I could have sworn it was going to be G, but they threw me for a loop, as they always do, and what I saw gutted me. As I typed each word, I had a little meltdown and feared the backlash because she was such a beloved character.

  I spent time asking myself why. What I realized was she was there solely for G. She did her job, fulfilled her role, developing the man he learned to be. He was at the cusp of greatness, but the only way he could continue was for Quinn’s story to end.

  Thomas’ death, in a way, was symbolic. It was the end of what little innocence remained from the original group. I wanted him to live because I adored him. I was desperate to keep him alive, to keep having him grow throughout the storyline. I tried so hard to add him into Blind Faith to keep his story going, but I realized the fight I was having was because he had already died. Shamefully, I kept forgetting about Thomas as more of Henry’s journey was unveiled.

  I dove back into Fractured Hearts and found the point his story would end. Originally, I wrote it as Gabriel or Finlay bit him. It never came to me as to who, but I knew it was one of them. Jake and Chris took Thomas to the clinic, leaving him in G’s and Cora’s capable hands while they went back out to find Henry.

  However, I never showed him dying. I just showed his body under a bloody sheet in the clinic. Why did I skip over his death scene? Talking to my editor, she suggested since he had been with the original group for a long time, he needed his own death scene. It clicked and off I went. I spent a full evening on it, rereading it many times. During the last pass, I said to The Boss, “I feel like Gabriel needs to bite him somehow.” So he did. Sick bastard.

  On to Josiah… No one knows his backstory, not even me. I’ve “heard” a few hints, but nothing to write about. He wore his heart on his sleeve in a creepy sort of way. He really did adore Josie and there will be a few little mentions of him in Blind Faith. His death needed to happen because I didn’t want a love triangle. (Hint, hint)

  One thing that has left me with the evil smirk is that a few readers have noticed something with Anne, Henry’s mother. I’ve received a few messages saying, “I don’t trust her.” I always ask why, but no one has really been able to pinpoint it. I will say this is where carefully chosen words come into play. Roger called her “treacherous”. Y
ou will get some small hints in Blind Faith, but her dirty laundry will be aired in Full Circle.

  Blind Faith was a painful process for me. I spent months staring at 130,000 words, knowing the manuscript was missing something. I decided to print it out and, wow, what a difference it made. There were so many plot holes and disconnected chapters, it was like writing an entire new book. I had pages upon pages of notes while I did my hardcopy read-through. As I added in new scenes and made adjustments, I finally started to feel like this story was worthy of being read.

  There are some real raw moments and some “holy shit, I want to slap this character” moments. The many ups and downs are dizzying. It gives you an idea of what it’s like to be inside Henry’s head…and mine. At times, the material is very heavy and there may be a few moments when you need to digest what happens. I struggled with it myself. “Distraught” was the word one of my betas chose to explain her emotions once she finished reading.

  Mutual feelings.

  Again, thank you all for the support and love/hate mail. Enjoy, and don’t forget to buckle up.

  ~RB

  P.S. I am only the messenger.

  P.P.S. One final note before you begin this journey: If you experience domestic violence or abuse, please don’t hesitate to call 911 or 1-800-799-7233 (SAFE). If you find yourself thinking about or considering suicide, please don’t hesitate to call your doctor or 1-800-273-8255. There are many resources and people who want to help. Your story isn’t over. It has only just begun.

  Warning

  The books in the Shattered Lives series may induce excessive amounts of ugly crying, wheezing, and the want to break stuff. Many of you have informed me that you like to read my books during your cardio sessions. Due to the increase in treadmill accidents while reading, please refrain from working on or around heavy machinery while reading or listening to my books. It may be best just to start in a fetal position.

  Blind Faith

  Shattered Lives, Book 4

  Chapter 1

  -East End of London-

  After punching the four-digit code into the keypad located next to the frame, the lock on the office door disengaged. Erik Carlson, the head scientist in the lab, exhaled loudly and shook his hands out at his sides. His scrunched face resembled vermin, his hair short and mousey-brown. Perspiration dampened his translucent skin. The trouble with his tortoiseshell, horn-rimmed glasses was they never stayed in place over his squinty eyes. They descended to his hooked nose, which made him have to shove them back every few minutes.

  Days after Gunther released the virus in 2014, Erik sat back and examined the situation across the pond. He soon realized he needed to right the wrong of creating the virus.

  Change the outcome.

  That was the hope anyway.

  While in contemplation of a plan, curiosity had gotten the better of him. There was one person whose secrets mostly lay within the irrationality of the self-appointed deity.

  Roger and the recruits had been gone longer than anticipated. The only way Erik could know what was happening was to get into Roger’s laptop and fire up the tracking software.

  Before Erik turned the doorknob, he knew if Roger found out he had been in his office, his life would be in jeopardy. However, no one was around. Everyone else had left the facility.

  Feeling it was perfectly acceptable to consider himself dead already, Erik’s entrance to the office wouldn’t change a thing. After almost two decades of his tedious efforts in the program’s lab, his wife, Celesia, walked away with their two children, both old enough to understand their father had an illicit affair with his chosen profession. He ended up selling his little cottage on the Thames, moving into a dorm at the facility.

  A man of simple needs, all he required was a bed, a bathroom, and a place to prepare meals. After all, he’d completely dedicated his life to finding a cure.

  Usually, Erik portrayed a man mindful of his astuteness, cunning in every way. The trepidation of his plight made him more aware of his twisted ways. He served a purpose while Roger was around because of his lack of morals, his willingness to do what it took for acceptance. Now, with thoughts of remorse in his gut, Erik decided to attempt to do something because he was an integral part in the creation of the undead virus.

  The heels of Erik’s loafers echoed in the darkness when he stepped onto the stained concrete floors. He leaned up against the door as it closed, the only sounds being his erratic breathing and the click of the lock. Once he located the light switch, his gaze darted all over the room. It wasn’t as posh as the conference room. There were simple lines, an uncomplicated design scheme…

  His gaze paused on the wall-sized, glass front mahogany cabinet filled with every kind of handgun, rifle, or knife one could ever want. It was a blaring reminder of how much his life was at risk.

  As the cotton feel overtook his mouth, Erik tried to swallow, but his throat would not work through the dryness. He stalked to the mini refrigerator. Just as he thought about opening it, he changed his mind. He needed to leave everything as it was because Roger would definitely know if there was a bottle of water missing.

  Glancing at Roger’s desk, he noted a hunting knife, dried blood all over the long blade, stabbed into the wood’s surface. As quietly as he could, Erik walked around the desk and sat in the chair. The leather softly creaked under his slender frame. Careful not to touch the knife, not knowing if the blood was tainted, he reached for the laptop and pulled it toward him.

  The room felt as if it tremored. Confused, Erik gripped the edge of the desk and looked around, concerned about an earthquake. Then he realized it came from within his own body.

  “Chuffing hell,” he whispered. Heat bloomed throughout his body, so he unfastened the top button of his shirt.

  One thing was certain. Roger put the fear of God in people, and Erik was feeling the pressure. Without another thought, he turned on the laptop and waited for it to load.

  “Password…,” he whispered in what should have been a quiet room. With all the horrors contrived there, it was anything but.

  Roger had many quirks, but one of his biggest was that he wrote everything down. He confessed as much to Erik one day after Roger was three-quarters of the way through a bottle of Scotch. It seemed insignificant at the time but, thinking back, the drink of choice had loosened Roger’s lips.

  There was an emergency in the lab and Erik couldn’t get in touch with anyone by telephone. It was the one and only time he had ever knocked on the door of Roger’s residence.

  The outside entrance behind the facility opened to an elevator that took Erik to the top floor. The elevator opened into a small foyer, which housed a solid metal door with a keypad next to the frame. He took a chance and plugged in the last four digits of Roger’s personal phone number.

  The lock disengaged and Erik opened the door. The hall looked the same as the ones on the floors below—painted white cinderblock and gray-speckled, white industrial tile. He did note one difference, though. Instead of ten evenly spaced through the hall, there were four identical black doors, two on each side, suggesting large flats.

  The clack of his shoes on the floor echoed through the sterile hallway. The first door he approached had a silver number four next to the frame. He jogged down to the flat numbered one, feeling sure it was Roger’s.

  Before Erik raised his fist to knock, he heard a woman cry out as if in pain. He shook his head and knocked anyway. Immediately, the woman’s pain-filled cries ceased, and Roger barked something unintelligible. The other doors in the hall opened and Drew, Kellan, and Gunther all stepped out in various stages of undress.

  “What’s the deal, Carlson?” Drew growled. “How did you even get up here?”

  Gunther’s door opened. “Gunther…,” a female whined. He shoved whomever it was back inside and slammed the door. His arms crossed in front of his massive bare chest and stared down at Erik.

  “I asked you what the deal was, lab rat!” Drew demanded.

 
Roger’s door opened. “What the fuck is going on?” he hollered, staggering into the hall with a bottle in one hand, shirtless and sporting fresh scratches down his chest.

  Kellan sighed and dropped his face into his hand. Roger’s drunkenness was beginning to get in the way of running the program. “We got this handled, boss. Go back inside.”

  “I actually need to speak with Roger,” Erik said, turning to him.

  “All right, Carlson… Whatcha need? And it had better be good. I’m a busy man.”

  “I tried to call each of you and no one picked up their calls.”

  “Is that so?” Roger focused on the others.

  “Yes, sir,” Erik said.

  With a growl, Roger looked at each of them in turn. “We will be chatting about that.”

  To gain Roger’s full attention, Erik stepped into his field of vision. “Sir, one of the recruits turned and we lost two lab assistants.”

  “How did you let that happen, Carlson?”

  “I’m sorry, sir. He wasn’t caught in time.”

  “It’s your job to keep them from doing so, is it not?”

  Sweat trickled, causing Erik’s glasses to make a slow descent down his nose. He shoved them back. “Y-yes, sir,” he stammered.

  “The situation?” Roger questioned.

  “They’re locked in.”

  “Total loss?”

  “Yes, sir. I had stepped out to take care of another matter in the clinic.”

  Roger turned to Gunther. “Clean up this mess, Erikkson.”

  “Sir, I’m in need. I was about to get my fix.”

  Roger rolled his eyes. “Erikkson, keep your dick in your pants for five minutes. Do your job or you will eat lead. Clear?”

  Drew and Kellan both stifled a low chuckle. Gunther shot them an icy glare before stepping back through his door.

  “You two jokers, go back into your flats!” Roger yelled. No other words needed to be uttered. Drew and Kellan ducked back behind their doors and slammed them shut. Roger turned to Erik once more. “I want a full report on this situation in the morning. Every last detail of how, what, and who.”