CROWNED BY FATE Read online

  CROWNED BY FATE

  Amo jones

  Contents

  My team

  Prologue

  1. ISA

  2. Isa

  3. Isa

  4. Isa

  5. Bryant

  Untitled

  6. Isa

  7. Bryant

  8. Isa

  9. Bryant

  10. Isa

  11. Bryant

  12. Isa

  13. Isa

  14. Bryant

  15. Isa

  16. Isa

  17. Bryant

  18. Isa

  19. Isa

  20. Isa

  21. Bryant

  22. Isa

  23. Isa

  24. Bryant

  25. Isa

  26. Bryant

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Crowned by Fate

  Crowned Duet: Book Two

  By Amo Jones

  Copyright 2020 Amo Jones

  All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  If downloaded this ebook via a pirating site, know that you have committed theft which is punishable by law.

  In the United States alone, the maximum criminal penalty for copyright infringement is a fine of up to $250,000 and a jail sentence of up to five years.

  Shout out to my team!

  Cover design: Jay Aheer

  Editing: My Brothers Editor

  Content Editing: Petra Gleason

  Proof-reading: Rosa Sharon

  Beta readers: Sarah Sentz & Amy Halter

  To you, my readers.

  Death. The word that passes our minds infrequently. How will it happen? Will it hurt when it does? Or occasionally, I’d think about the date. Knowing that I had already lived through the date I would die sixteen times. The eerie feeling of being right on the reaper’s doorstep twenty-eight times is a feeling that would haunt me every year.

  Only it doesn’t have to anymore. Because that date has come.

  Water engulfed me as I slid deeper and deeper in. Black. Dark. Empty and silent. No waves crashing, no screams. Everything is just so silent.

  I opened my eyes, my long dusty brown hair floating around me. I can’t breathe. I can’t see past the murky waters.

  This is it.

  I’m going to die.

  I’m no longer waiting for death to take hold of my languid soul, I’m there. Door wide open.

  I sunk deeper and deeper into oblivion. The unknown. The darkness that holds no promises…

  Not all truths should rise.Some should be doused in lies and remain buried. - Isa

  To sin, you would need to believe, because evil cannot exist without the faith of good. I am not good. I am not well. I am something that has been caged inside of a dark cell for years. A cell that has no key, no access code, and no escape route. It lives within me, between the twisted knots of my brain.

  I wake, shivering, my lips trembling and my teeth chattering. Why is it cold? It’s so so cold. I stumble off the bed, fisting the clean white sheets with me and wrapping them around my body. My hand comes to my stomach, where there was once a swollen bump, it is now flat, with no evidence of me bearing a child. What is this? What is my name?

  I scan the room. I’m so cold. There’s a metal bed. A fireplace, stone and inbuilt into the silent echoes of white walls. Unlit. It’s so cold. There is a load of logwood beside the front mantle, bark scaling off and scattered over the ground. I shiver again, goose bumps breaking out over my flesh. Under my toes is a plush red rug, the color of…

  "Blood…” I whisper to myself, as memories crash into my brain at a hundred miles per hour.

  My name is Isa Royal.

  Bryant Saint Royal is my husband.

  I didn’t have to fear death, I am death. It follows me everywhere.

  It’s so cold. Air whooshes past me, and my body violently shivers with its embrace. The door creaks. Wooden, like a cabin. The windows, sealed with icicles, slip down the other side of the glass, melting away.

  I’m in a cabin, but how and why? There’s a double bed that I’m curled up in in the lounge room.

  I tilt my head, confused. The front door swings open and a man enters, kicking it shut behind him.

  “Oh, it’s fucking cold out,” he says casually. Too casually.

  I squeeze the sheet, a scream slipping from my mouth. “Who the fuck are you?”

  The man. He’s large, broad, and hairy. His beard is long, but his eyes are pretty. They slant softly around the edges, but the color pierces me like a flying dagger, target: me.

  “Quiet.” He drops some logs down near the open fireplace, the flames licking through the air. I don’t want to ask more questions. Confused and dazed, I crawl backward until my back hits the wall. Sweat coats the palm of my hands, a tightening in my chest that I can’t loosen.

  “Why?” I whisper, my hand coming to my head. My hair is brushed, curled in perfect curls and when my fingers touch my lips, I can feel the cream from the lipstick smudge off. “Where am I?”

  The man doesn’t answer.

  He moves around the cabin, and I watch in pure fascination as he shuffles with precision despite his size. A wooden table, an outdated stone style kitchen, a two-seater fabric couch, and no TV. A large portrait painting hangs on the wall. A woman. Dark hair that drops over her slender shoulders and a collarbone that looks to be sharpened by a scalpel. Her face is a warped mess of oil colors stirred together to conceal her identity. I don’t know why, but I resonate with the painting. Transfixed and entranced by the art, I reach out to touch the wilted canvas, needing to touch her face.

  Movement catches me off guard, snapping me out of my trance. I spin around, the flames from the fire licking my back. “Do I know you?”

  “No,” he answers, clipped. Not a man of many words.

  I swallow my nerves. “Where’s the bathroom?”

  He points a big finger over my shoulder. “Second door on the right. If you’re not out in five minutes, I’m coming in.” I slide past him, heading straight for the room he directed me to. I don’t want him near me right now. Not until I know who he is.

  I close the bathroom door and kick down the toilet seat. That’s when what I’m wearing catches my eye. A white linen robe that cuts off at my upper thigh. I touch the soft texture, rubbing it between my thumb and index finger. What is this and how did I get here?

  A loud bang on the door jolts me out of my daze. “Isa! Hurry up.”

  “Hang on a minute!” I call out, pushing the robe up higher and taking a seat on the toilet. Once I’m finished, I hit the tap on the basin and wash my hands. My eyes come up to the mirror in the bathroom and I freeze.

  I look the same, only different. My hair is longer, a shade darker. My skin is pale, as if I’ve missed a whole season of summer, and my eyes have lines beneath them that I have never noticed before. There’s another bang and I jump.

  “Oh, alright!” I pull open the door to see the man— “What’s your name?” I ask, tilting my head. He’s dressed in jeans and a dark shirt that hugs his muscles perfectly. He is big, burly and bearded, but there’s a softness that lays beneath his eyes. Beneath the hard exterior. Or maybe I’m deluded. That could be it. Actually, that could b
e backed by facts.

  “Max.” His eyes drop down my body before traveling back up to meet mine. “I don’t want to make this any more difficult on you, so just do as you’re told.” He turns his back and disappears into the sitting room where the open fireplace is now blazing like an inferno storm.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, falling behind him. “I don’t understand how I woke here. The last thing I remember is my wedding day.” I gasp, my hand coming into view. Seeing my finger empty is like a bullet being shot through my heart. “Where’s my ring?”

  Max stabs at the fire with a long metal fork, obviously unwilling to answer my question.

  “Hey!” I step closer, my hand coming to his back. “Where’s my ring?”

  His shoulders tighten beneath my grip. He slowly turns to face me. “What ring?”

  “I’m married!” I yell, frustrated at myself that I can’t remember anything. I slam my mouth shut as realization hits me like a race car with no destination. “Where’s Bryant? Where’s my daughter, Harper?”

  My arms fly out as I hit him with the back of my hand. “Where are they!” I feel myself slowly slipping, losing control of what little power I had already. My bones soften, irritation digging its claws deeper and deeper into my skin.

  His big hand snatches my arm and flings it away from him as his other squeezes around my other arm. His face comes close to mine. Nose to nose. “You. Aren’t. Married.”

  I take four breaths.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  “What the fuck do you mean?” I fail on the fourth because I’m ready to punch him straight in the face and take my chances running. I need Bryant. I need my daughter. Where am I?

  I fly backward when he releases me, my ass hitting the wall. Running his hand through his hair, he grips it at the ends. “You’re not married. Not anymore.” Before I can swear at him, he storms down the hallway and disappears through one of the doors.

  I sink to the ground, bringing my legs closer to my chest, resting my head between them. “Not anymore.” I squeeze my eyes closed. I want answers. I need them, but I’m afraid that if I sink deeper into my mind, I’ll get lost. Unable to grasp onto what is real and what isn’t, I am petrified that she’ll take over and I’ll never come back….

  “Do you, Bryant, take Isa to be your…” I was standing at the altar. Bryant’s hands wrapped in mine, his eyes searching mine eagerly. He wanted this just as much as I did. Our story wasn’t easy by any means, but it was ours to write, and we scribbled it down in permanent ink.

  “You alright?” he asked, his eyebrows knotting together.

  What’s happening? I never go this far in…

  “Yes?” I cleared my throat. “Where’s Harper?”

  Bryant’s arm hooked around my waist and he tugged me into him further, his nose running over mine. “She’s fine. Look.” He gestured with his head, where my family sat. There was Lydia, my father, Brianna, my sister, and Jess, Bryant’s sister. Harper was curled in Brianna’s arms. A smile stretched over my mouth when I saw how happy Harper was with my sister. There weren’t that many people at the wedding. Close friends and little family. Devon was here, in the second row behind Lydia. “Nothing to worry about. Can you let us have our fairytale now? Or would you prefer I use force?”

  I chuckled, shoving him playfully before we went back to our vows.

  Suddenly my breathing slackened, and my limbs wilted. As if I recognized her energy entering the room. I turned my head sideways, my smile fading from my lips. My eyes locked onto hers and confusion warped my vision slightly.

  “Brooke?” I whispered, confused. “What are you doing here? You are supposed to be dead!” Everyone turned to see who I was speaking to. Brooke was a friend I partied with when I was going through my party days, one of them when I met Bryant. She and I had caused mischief and chaos all over the country, going on benders. She occupied a chunk of a dark part of my life. When she took me and drugged me, I almost died. It was her or I.

  “She can’t have everything!” she roared, and it’s that moment I took in what she was wearing. Worn rags and bloody arms. Her face looked sick, her eyes sunken in. She continued to walk down the aisle. Did she break out of a hospital?

  “Brooke!” Bryant roared back. “Get the fuck away now before I put a bullet between your eyes.”

  Brooke laughed, her gaunt shoulders shaking beneath her worn shirt. “Fuck you, Bryant.” She lifted the pistol in her hand and aimed it at Bryant. “I’m sorry, Isa. This isn’t—”

  I stepped in front of him instantly, my fight and determination to protect those I love kicking in. “No!” I screamed, closing my eyes.

  Bang!

  I flinched at the sudden crack of the bullet exiting the barrel. When I felt nothing, no pain, I slowly opened my eyes, my hands going to my stomach. Everything slowed as people started rushing around behind me. Bryant shoved me out of the way and ran to the front seating where Brianna sat.

  Blood pooled around her feet as her curdling screams ripped through my mind. I took a step forward slowly, and that was the exact moment Bryant took Harper from her, turning to face me with tears pouring down his face.

  My eyes fell to Harper in his arms.

  Her body seemed limp.

  Her blue eyes unfocused, was it just my paranoia or was her skin turning an unnatural shade of purple?

  Blood fell from her blankie.

  “Shit!” Brooke screamed. “That—no—no—”

  My heart snapped, my vision peaked, and everything went black.

  Max’s hands are gripped around my shoulders, shaking me on the cold wood floor.

  Tears streak down my face, but I swipe them away angrily. “Who are you?” I feel defeated. I remember everything from that day, and like some strange timer inside my brain, it’s as though everything has clicked into place.

  Brooke was my friend. I thought she was my friend. Until she kidnapped me. Parts of the kidnapping are still fuzzy, fuzzy and blank, but I know she kidnapped me.

  Max sighs, leaning back against the wall near a window.

  He runs his hands through his hair. “I’m Max Barrack. I was your doctor when you first came in.” I remain silent, hoping it gives him the floor to speak. “I stepped out of line bringing you here, but I had to help you.” He brings his brown eyes to mine. “You’re not broken or sick, Isa. You’ve had horrible events happen to you.” When he pauses, I bring my legs under my butt and tuck my hair behind my ear.

  “You were my doctor? At the facility?”

  His Adam’s apple bobs past his swallow. “Yeah.”

  I lick my lips. “When was that? When did you bring me here?”

  “Last week.” He kicks up, and I quickly follow his lead as he heads into the kitchen area. “I didn’t exactly do it legally, but I needed to get you out of there.”

  “Why?” I ask, leaning my hip against the counter. “And how have I been asleep this long?”

  “You haven’t.” He shakes his head, reaching above into the cupboard to take down a ceramic teapot that looks too out of date to be living in the year we are in. “You come and go, drifting back to sleep. You’ve never come to as clear as you are right now, but you have drifted in and out.”

  “God,” I exhale, shaking my head. “I’m crazy.”

  “No!” Max snaps, turning to face me while holding two mugs. They’re both made from stone, only fitting with the Viking-like feel this cabin exudes. “You are not, Isa. You need to understand—” He blows out a deep breath. “You’re not crazy. People have been feeding you drugs for six months, since the wedding. These pills, they’ve made you think you’re crazy. See things, hallucinations. You’ve been fed a cocktail mixture of pharmaceuticals that you most definitely should not have been fed.” He turns back to continue his tea making. “Shit, that isn’t even fucking legal.”

  My eyebrows cross as I warily make my way farther into the kitchen, slowly dropping down onto one of the bar stools. “I don’
t understand, Max. Can you tell me anything that will help me understand? I was used like a lab rat?”

  He slides a mug over the counter toward me and I blow on the hot liquid until the condensation dissolves on the tip of my nose. “Yes. But I can only speak to you here. Anything else that happens outside of this cabin, cannot be talked about. Do you understand?”

  I take a sip of the tea, sighing once the hot contents slip down my throat. “I understand.” I don’t, but I got the gist of it.

  Don’t talk outside this cabin.

  His arms fold in front of his chest, pushing his muscles up higher as they fight against his tight V-neck. “Your wedding day—”

  I wince.

  “Sorry,” he apologizes before softening his tone. “Are you ready to talk about it?”

  I think over his words. He said it has been six months since that day. Though I don’t know when I will ever be ready to talk about it, I am aware that I need to.

  “I am.” I straighten my shoulders, hoping that it gives me some sort of strength, or at least creates the illusion of strength.

  He nods. “Your fateful wedding day set off a chain reaction of events. Do you remember much of what happened after you fainted?”

  I shake my head. “No. I actually only just remembered that part now. Usually, I only get to—”

  “I take thee, Bryant,” Max whispers.

  “Yes. How’d you know?”

  Max takes a mouthful of his tea before bringing his eyes back to mine. “Because the drugs that your father has been trialing, work that way.” He places his mug down. “Isa, you have been living the same events over and over again for the past six months.”