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 DISTRUST

HALLOWED CROWS MC -1-

G.N. WRIGHT
Copyright © 2021 by G.N. Wright
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a
book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses, companies,
organizations, locales, events and incidents are either a figment of the authors
imagination or used fictitiously. Any resembles to any person, living or dead, is
unintentional.
The author acknowledges trademark status and trademark owners of various
products referred to in this work of fiction.
This author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility
for author or third party websites or their content.

Content editor: Samantha Bee

Cover Design: Samantha Wildeboer at Sunset Bibliophile
Created with Vellum
T his book is dedicated to all of my S mut Q ueens .
R ead it loud .

R ead it proud .
 CONTENTS

Author Note
Playlist

Prologue
1. Rebecca
2. Aiden
3. Rebecca
4. Ezra
5. Rebecca
6. Killian
7. Rebecca
8. Aiden
9. Rebecca
10. Ezra
11. Rebecca
12. Killian
13. Rebecca
14. Aiden
15. Rebecca
16. Rebecca
17. Ezra
18. Rebecca
19. Killian
20. Aiden
21. Rebecca
22. Rebecca
23. Aiden
24. Rebecca
25. Ezra
26. Rebecca
27. Killian
28. Rebecca
29. Aiden
30. Rebecca
31. Ezra
32. Rebecca

Afterword
Acknowledgments
Also by G.N. Wright
About the Author
 AUTHOR NOTE

I don’t want to ruin any of the fun stuff but I do want to warn you of
the contents of this book.
Distrust is the first book in the Hallowed Crows MC series. It
follows the story of an abused but now rescued FMC and her brood
of gritty antiheroes.
This dark new adult romance is a reverse harem meaning the
heroine will not choose a love interest at the end. It contains
dubious situations, violent content, and sexual scenes. It is also the
first book of a planned trilogy so please note it does end on a
cliffhanger.
Kinks included are blood play, knife play, humiliation, degradation
and dubious consent. There are group sex scenes included from the
start and also some male on male content.
If none of the above is to your liking then this book is not for
you. If you would like any further details on any of the above then
please reach out with me to discuss before reading.
Please proceed with caution.
 PLAYLIST

Listen on Spotify

Birthday Sex - Jeremiah

First Fuck - 6LACK, Jhené Aiko

Prisoner - Raphael Lake, Aaron Levy, Daniel Ryan Murphy

Daddy Issues - Neighbourhood

New Girl - Finneas

Do I Wanna Know? - Artic Monkeys

Watch Me Burn - Michele Morrone

Need You Like That - EZI

Bad Intentions - Nike Heaton, Migos, OG Parker

 Simmer - Hayley Williams

Savage - Bahari

High For This - The Weekend

Still Be Friends - G-Eazy, Tory Lanez, Tyga

Or Nah - Ty Dolla $ign, The Weekend, Wiz Khalifa

Addicted - Saving Abel

Angels & Demons - Jxdn

Devilish - Chase Atlantic

I Hate Everything About You - Three Days Grace

Nobody - Grayson Chance

Saints - Echos

Sucker For Pain - Lil Wayne, Wiz Khalifa, Imagine Dragons

Keep Me Afraid - Nessa Barrett

Pain - Three Days Grace

Die For Me - Post Malone, Halsey, Future

 TWO YEARS AGO

M ost girls wouldn’t contemplate letting three guys take their

virginity, but I’m not most girls. My father is Connor
O’Sullivan, President of the infamous Hallowed Crows
Motorcycle Club. He tried everything in his power to keep me away
as a child, but all that did was make me want to know more. He
tried to shelter me, forcing me to live across town with my Aunt
Megan, but once I saw them, everything changed.
I still remember the day like it was yesterday. I was fourteen
years old and had just ridden the bus all the way from North Side to
the clubhouse. I climbed over the iron gate, and before my feet hit
the ground, I was being dragged backwards and caged against the
metal railings. That was the first time Aiden Graves' eyes rendered
me speechless. His self-assured stare disarmed me completely. He
took my breath away with the way his glare bored into mine, like he
could read my every thought.
Before I could even say a word to him, my dad was hollering my
name across the yard. Aiden’s eyes widened slightly when he
realized who I was, then he released me with a harsh shove. His
touch practically scorched my skin. Dad dragged me by the arm into
his office to yell at me for being reckless, but all I could think about
was the beautiful boy with the emerald eyes.
When Aunt Megan came to pick me up, I saw him again, only
this time he wasn’t alone. Killian Drake and Ezra Bishop flanked him
on either side, both just as achingly stunning as Aiden. I remember
knowing then that I had never seen any guys so perfectly imperfect
before. I remember thinking how much I wanted them to be mine.
At fourteen years old, your first love is always going to be a disaster,
but I didn’t have just one, I had three. All of them older than me,
smarter than me, and completely out of my reach. But that didn’t
stop me from following them around for the next four years.
I bided my time, waited for them, let them run havoc, fucking
endless amounts of whores, but that stops now. Tonight is my
eighteenth birthday and there is only one thing I want.
Them.
I tug on the fitted, silk black dress I’m wearing for the fifth time
tonight. It keeps riding up as I walk. I don’t usually wear something
this revealing, but I need to use every tool in my arsenal to disarm
them if I'm going to get what I want. Underneath I am wearing the
sexiest underwear I have ever bought. It’s black lace, see through,
and more provocative than anything else I own. Match that with my
silver stilettos and my long black hair hanging in thick curls down my
back, I know I look stunning.
I’ve been lingering around the clubhouse for the last three hours,
waiting for everyone to be sufficiently intoxicated so I can make my
escape. I know exactly where to find them, and once I watch my
dad disappear with his ‘not girlfriend’, Claire, I make my way to their
‘Den’. The three of them claimed the basement of the clubhouse and
turned it into an apartment. Unsurprisingly considering how
inseparable they are, they do everything together.
Well, almost everything.
I hear the thumping of the music, and smell the rich scent of
weed before I even push through the doors. When I enter, I find
exactly what I expected, the guys spread out across the large, black,
leather sofa, and multiple underwear clad girls vying for their
affections. I roll my eyes at the theatrics they are putting on as I
lean against the door to watch them.
Aiden’s ebony black hair is tousled over to one side like it always
is, chaotic and untamed, just like him. His jade green eyes are
glossy thanks to the joint he's smoking. It doesn’t hide the boredom
lingering within them though. Not from me.
Ezra’s blonde hair is freshly cut, shorter on the sides than it is on
top, his striking blue eyes, giving the joint in his hand more attention
than the girls.
Then there is Killian, with his dark shaven hair and brown eyes
that could scare the devil. His stare is hungry, but even he is mostly
ignoring the girls. It’s E that is at the center of his attention.
All three of them are still wearing their MC cut. They're jet black,
worn out, with various patches dotted across each of them. The
signature grayish skull and wings, unmissable when you get a view
of the back. Aiden is shirtless beneath his, offering up a perfect view
of his ripped, tattooed torso, while Kill and Ezra both still have on
their shirts.
The three of them together could bring any woman to their
knees, and they do, regularly. I mean it’s not like they could admit to
the attraction I know they feel towards me, until today I wasn’t even
legal. What red blooded males wouldn’t take advantage of what they
are regularly offered.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous. But I don’t just want them
because they are more tempting than most, I want them because
they see me, the real me. Connect with me deeper than anyone has
before, and I want more of that. More of them. Which is why I am
here now. I've bided my time, waited until nothing stands in our
way, and now I’m ready to claim what I know belongs to me.
 Killian is the first to spot me of course. His talent for noticing
things knows no bounds. His mahogany eyes dance with mine
through the haze of smoke, and I see him nudge the other two,
alerting them of my presence. The three of them are like one soul
spread across separate bodies, thinking, and moving in sync at all
times.
Aiden calls out to me first, always the one in charge. “What are
you doing here, little Sully?” His rough voice washes over me, and it
doesn’t matter how many times I tell him that I hate that fucking
nickname, he still uses it.
One of the girls, Candice, turns, giving me a dirty look as she
palms her own naked breast. None of the club girls like me. It’s no
secret that my dad would have murdered any guy who touched me
before tonight, but they still have always seen me as a threat. As
they should. These three Crows are considered prime real estate
among the club whores, and it would be considered a slam dunk if
they landed themselves a spot as one of their old ladies. Like I'd
ever let that happen.
“Yeah, little Sully,” she whines, with an emphasis on the word
little, “Can’t you see your boys are occupied.” Her tone is patronizing
as fuck, and I think about smashing her head into the table like I did
when I was fifteen and she kissed Ezra for the first time. I was
grounded for two weeks after, but it was so worth it. My best friend
Angel still likes to tease me about it. If he could see what I was
about to do, his taunts would be unbearable.
“Yeah, well it’s my birthday,” I say, focusing on the guys before
adding, “And I’m calling Murder.” I gleam as I watch all three of the
girls' shoulders drop, while Ezra chuckles deliciously.
‘Murder’ is mine and the guys’ code word. It’s something we
came up with during the time I bugged them relentlessly into
becoming friends with me. They told me I was too young to be
hanging around them as they had just started officially prospecting
for the club.
I followed them everywhere, and one day Killian finally snapped
and asked me if I knew that a group of crows were dangerous.
When I didn’t immediately respond they turned to walk away, only
halting when I called out “It’s a murder of crows.” It was the first
time I ever saw him smile, and the first time Aiden granted me my
nickname when he replied, “Very clever, little Sully.”
From that moment on, our weird friendship began. I taught them
ridiculous notions I discovered online or at school, and they taught
me how to defend myself. We’d hang out in the garage after school,
spend family day at the club side by side, and even crash some
nights in my room watching TV. It was amazing, even with all the
girls I had to see come and go. We ignored the electrical charge
present between us all, and settled for the only kind of relationship
that was appropriate. Friendship. But that ends here.
Aiden must sense the seriousness of my tone, because he shifts
to sit up, uttering one word to the girls, while his eyes remain fixed
on mine. “Leave.”
The girls scramble at his order, because that’s exactly what it is.
An order. If my dad is King of the Crows, then Aiden is the dark
Prince. They grab their discarded items of clothing and give me the
death glare on their way out. I let them pass, giving my most fuck
you smile as they go, before I let the door slam behind me and then
lean against it.
“Tut tut, naughty Bex. You scared away our evening
entertainment.” Ezra drawls, his tone melting me to the bone as he
lets his gaze devour me from head to toe. He is the only one who
has ever openly defied my father, giving me my first kiss when I was
sixteen. I still remember how he tasted of whiskey and chocolate.
It’s been my favorite taste ever since. He’s had his tongue pierced
since then, and I’ve heard more than a few of the girls’ brag about
how good it feels. I want to feel it too. No, I need to feel it.
“Not true.” I start, taking a subtle deep breath. “I just switched it
up for something you want more.” They would probably hear the
slight shake of my voice, if it wasn’t for the deafening sound of the
bolted lock sliding into place.
I watch as all three of them focus on my hand as it drops from
the door. Aiden’s jaw clenches so hard it makes a vein in his neck
throb. The whiskey in Killian’s hand pauses halfway to his mouth, for
once showing a break in that tight control of his, and Ezra chokes on
the joint he just took a drag from. All of them staring at me wide-
eyed.
“Bex.” Killian starts, but I step forward silencing him.
“Don’t act like this is one sided, Kill. I’ve seen the way you look
at me.” I shift my gaze to the other two. “The way you all look at
me.” I take another breath, then push the straps of my dress off my
shoulders, sliding it down my body and letting it drop to the floor. It
pools around my heels as I slowly step out of it, not letting my gaze
fall from theirs for even a second.
“Fuck.” They all mutter in unison, as their eyes trail over me from
head to toe.
“Who are you here for, Love?” Ezra asks carefully, his stare locked
in on the smooth sheer underwear barely covering the v between
my thighs. The hunger in his gaze sets my bare skin ablaze.
“All of you.” I reply immediately and without regret. This is how I
always imagined it, the three of them and me. All of us together
until we become one.
“Rebecca,” Aiden begins, that usual dominant tone out in full
force. I'm sure it's meant to scare me, to warn me of the dangers of
him, but all it does is make my pussy weep. “You know the rules.”
“The rules are irrelevant.” I snap, frustrated to be even having
this conversation after everything. “I’m eighteen now. If you won’t
step up and take it, well…” I let my sentence purposely trail off. They
can pretend all they like, but I know the truth. I’ve seen it. The way
their eyes always find me, the way they fist their hands to stop
themselves from touching me, the way they scare off every guy I
ever bring here to make them jealous. They want this as much as I
do, I'm just the one who's finally admitting it.
Killian tries another approach, letting the sinister tone he usually
saves for our enemies caress me like a knife. “You think you could
handle all three of us? You’re a virgin.” His sneer shouldn't turn me
on, but all I can think of is making him grit my name out through his
teeth.
He thinks he can deter me, scare me away like a baby bird, but
I’m not just any bird, I’m a Crow.
 “Want me to tell you what it’s like?” I whisper, taking a step
towards them and looking at Ezra. “E always goes first, his mouth
dragging across every inch of my body.” My hand trails across my
exposed skin, as they each follow the movement. “He makes me
come so many times that when he finally goes to fuck me, he just
slides right in.” I hear the harsh intake of all their breaths, they
didn't know how much I've been learning about what they like.
I look back to Kill. “You are the watcher. You love to see them
take me; it makes you so fucking hard.” I can see their control ready
to break, and I decide it’s the perfect time to offer up a secret they
think I don’t know. “Question is Kill, would you want me to suck your
cock first?” I look at Ezra. “Or E?”
None of them escape the shock of my statement. Their
entanglement with each other is a well-guarded secret, but I've
always been the keeper of secrets.
I move until I am standing directly in front of Aiden’s spread legs,
focusing back on him. I always knew he would be the toughest one
to crack. “When I finally make my way to you, my body is shaking
and covered in sweat. But you have enough stamina for the both of
us, don’t you?” I flop down onto the coffee table in front of them
and spread my thighs wide.
I let my fingers trail across my breasts and down my stomach
until I can caress my thighs. “Do you know how hard I make myself
come thinking about the three of you?”
Killian slams his glass to the table, and it shatters into pieces, but
none of us react to his outburst. The tension is too thick, one wrong
word and everything I want could come crashing down.
“If your dad found out…” Ezra starts, but I lean forward and
place my finger to his lips to silence him.
“You know how good I am at keeping secrets, E.” I don't mean
for my voice to be breathy and seductive, but I can't help it. The
sexual charge flowing through the room is enough to electrify me.
“This isn’t fucking happening.” Aiden bites out, and I can’t help
my smile. There's my Crowned Crow, the master of order and
commands. Always following the rules and never straying from that
strong moral code. I can’t wait to smash it to pieces.
 In what happens to be the most fucking perfect timing in the
history of the world, the whole room blacks out. It happens all the
time when we have big parties like this. Too much electricity for the
generators to handle it all, and now the perfect canvas for
debauchery.
The tension in the room shifts completely as we are all plunged
into total darkness. I lick my lips in anticipation, sliding off the table
and dropping to my knees in front of Aiden. I know for this to work;
he needs to agree. I place my hands on both of his thighs and trail
them up slowly, feeling him tense beneath me.
“If you can’t fuck me in the light, then fuck me in the dark.” I
whisper to him, but my words are for all three of them. “Let the
shadows hide what I know we all want.”
Aiden doesn’t move, not even an inch, but I hear the tell-tale
sound of a zipper being pulled down. Then a tight grip fists into my
hair, pulling my head back. “You wanna play with us, Sweetheart?”
Killian pushes out through his teeth. “Then suck.”
A hardening cock is pushed through my teeth before I can even
widen my mouth. I gasp around it, almost gagging as it pushes to
the back of my throat. This is my first blow job, and Killian isn’t
exactly small.
He makes a low sound as my mouth trails back up his shaft,
saliva dripping from the corner of my lips. I quickly start to bob my
head, the sounds of my sucking and slurping the only noise in the
room above the low music still playing. I hear a harsh curse as a
phone light flicks on behind me. It’s so close that it blinds me from
seeing them, but I know they can see me.
Someone else drops behind me, and they start to leave heated
kisses across my shoulder and up my neck to my ear. “Was it just
like this, Love?” E purrs, and I moan around Killian's cock, his fist
tightening even more than before. Aiden still hasn’t moved.
Ezra continues to drag his lips and tongue across my body,
opening my bra and slipping it from my chest. When his hands reach
out and roughly squeeze my breasts, I feel myself drench my
underwear. Fuck this is hotter than I ever imagined. I continue to
suck Killian’s cock like it’s my own candy treat, and I’m rewarded
with his sinful groans that only spur me on.
“Fuck, E, you should feel this mouth.” He grits out. “It’s better
than I imagined.”
“She feel good, Kill?” Ezra asks, hands skimming down my body
until he can wrap his arms around me. He lifts me, dragging down
my lace thong, until I am completely bare for them. Instead of him
setting me back on my knees, he places me on the coffee table
again and spreads my legs. Killian takes a step forward to
accommodate the new angle.
Now I am no longer touching Aiden, our connection broken, but I
can hear his heavy breaths as Ezra drops to his knees and settles his
broad shoulders between my thighs.
"I've waited a long time to taste this pussy on my tongue." Ezra
purrs, and then his tongue dips between my folds and I buck.
Instantly desperate for more.
"Mmm," he groans deeply, as I continue to search for the friction
of his piercing. "I'm gonna tongue fuck this greedy cunt, until your
juices flow down my chin."
This time when his lick sweeps between my folds and swirls
around my clit, my moan vibrates my tongue against Kill’s shaft. His
cock continues to dip in and out of the wet heat of my mouth.
“Fuck!” He grunts, grabbing both sides of my face and thrusting
into my mouth wildly. Tears pour down my cheeks as I choke on his
dick, but instead of pulling back, I push forward. Forcing myself to
take more of him, as I shamelessly ride Ezra's tongue, climbing the
peak to heaven.
When E finally dips into my dripping hole, I scream around
Killian’s dick, deep in my throat. The vibrations sucking him further,
until his salty release shoots down the back of my throat on a long
groan, like he is finally reaching something he has been desperate
for.
This is the first time I have swallowed come and it doesn’t taste
as bad as I thought, but there is a lot. Some of him leaks out of my
mouth, and before my tongue can dart out to catch it, another
rough breathless moan hits my ear. “Swallow him down, Princess.”
Aiden’s voice startles me, as Ezra continues his assault on my clit.
Before I can respond, Killian leans down, fusing his mouth against
mine and letting our tongues swirl together. We share his release
between our lips until I'm panting and breathless.
When he pulls back, he smiles viciously, before dropping to his
knees beside Ezra. "You look so good with your tongue in her cunt,
Baby." Killian’s dark tone is dangerous and seductive. "Now make
her come."
Ezra listens to his command immediately, tightening his grip on
my hips, pulling me against his tongue as he fucks me with it. His
fingers join the mix, slipping inside to find my g spot, rolling over it
repeatedly, readying me for what we all know is going to happen
next.
I can just make out the outline of Aiden’s hard cock gripped in
his hand as he tugs on it forcefully. He has never looked more
fucking perfect than he does right now. Shirt off, cut on, cock out.
My new favorite sight.
Watching him fuck his tattooed fist gives me the push I need to
reach my peak and I shamelessly roll against Ezra’s face. When he
sucks my clit into his mouth again, I’m a goner. I come harder than I
have ever by my own hand, and he drinks me up like I’m his top
shelf Macallan.
I continue to watch Aiden slide his inked fist up and down his
shaft until Ezra cuts off my line of sight. Plunging his pussy soaked
tongue into my mouth and giving me a kiss, a lot fucking better than
our first one. The other girls were right, the bar in his tongue is
fucking sin-worthy, both in my mouth and on my cunt.
I hear the ripping sound of a condom packet and I clench in
anticipation, moaning into his mouth. He brings his cock between my
folds, covering himself in my juices before pulling back and dropping
his head to mine.
“Are you sure this is what you want, Bex?” His hard cock is
pressed against my pussy, and still, he pauses for consent. I could
cream for that alone.
I press myself against his waiting dick, allowing the tip to slip
inside and clench at the hiss he lets out. “Take me, Ezra, I’m ready.”
 He groans at my words, sliding a little further inside of me, and
now it’s my turn to hiss at the delicious stretch of him. “This is
gonna hurt, Love.”
That’s the only warning he gives before he slams the rest of the
way inside me in one brutal thrust, just as I lock eyes with Aiden
over his shoulder. His intense glare is almost as painful as Ezra’s
intrusion.
Ezra groans. "She's so fucking tight," he spits out through his
gritted teeth, jaw clenched.
I take a deep breath, letting myself adjust to the size of him
before I lay back onto the table, ignoring the bite of glass that cuts
into my arms from the broken whiskey tumbler. The new angle puts
him a little deeper and we both moan. His thrusts start slow, almost
lazily, until he feels me clench around him and starts to pick up the
pace.
Another palm slides down between my tits and when I look up, I
find Killian’s dark stare locked on where Ezra and I are joined
together. The lust in his eyes is like nothing I’ve ever seen. I knew
he'd like to watch. I smile smugly until his fingers find my clit and he
rubs it without mercy until I am crying out. Ezra starts to fuck me
harder, making the table rattle and the phone with the light falls to
the floor, plunging us further into the shadows.
I groan even louder when he reaches out and palms Killian’s
once again hard cock, flexing his hand around it. Kill's fist slides into
E's hair now, tipping it back and stealing a kiss from him that has me
panting.
They both feel my quiver as I get closer to coming again. "Seems
we have someone else who likes to watch." Ezra purrs, before
wrapping his mouth around Killian's cock and I’m done for. I come
violently, shaking as my release wracks through my entire body, as I
get to witness Ezra deep throat Killian.
"Oh fuck!" I scream out, as Ezra bucks against me, fucking me
through my orgasm as he sucks Kill to the back of his throat. I have
never been this turned on and satisfied in my entire life.
"Look at how good she takes it, Graves." Killian drawls,
reminding me that Aiden is still here. I can no longer see him, but
still hear his jagged breaths telling me he is, as he continues to fuck
his fist while his friend fucks me.
Before Ezra can reach his release, he is ripped away from me,
and I am dragged from the table to the sofa.
"You two finish each other off." Aiden snaps, gripping my thighs
in a vice grip. He guides his cock to my entrance and slams inside in
one delicious thrust. Aiden claims me. Takes me from the others like
he has the right to do so, and he does. The three of them might be
friends, brothers even, but what Aiden says goes. His word is law.
His teeth find my neck as he bites down into the curve there.
Licking and sucking as he smashes us together in the most wicked
way possible. I take everything he has to offer and beg for more, as
I guide my hips to meet his every thrust.
"You take it like a good girl," he grunts into my ear. "Just like I
knew you would. So tight, so fucking wet, so fucking mine."
His dirty words have me tightening my thighs around him, trying
to bring him closer, deeper. Just anything that means this pleasure
never ends.
"I've pictured you like this so many times, Rebecca. Fucked my
hand raw imagining it was your tight little cunt." His confession
groaned out into the dark like our own dirty little secret. If this is
what it’s like to have them then I never want to step into the light
again.
He continues to fuck me, grinding against my clit with every
thrust as one of his palms grips my tit and squeezes. His rough
touch setting me on fire. Suddenly the lights come back on, and I
find myself staring up into the emerald eyes that started all of this.
When his gaze locks with mine his thrusts become relentless, like he
can’t control himself. He ruts into me at a devastating pace, and I
find myself hurtling towards yet another orgasm.
I turn to see both Killian and Ezra watching Aiden claim me. Ezra
is kneeling beside me, sucking Killian off vigorously, but both their
eyes are locked on mine.
Aiden’s fingers grip my chin, snapping my head back to him.
"Don't look at them, look at me." His command forces my pussy to
spasm around him as his possessive glare renders me speechless.
"You may be ours, but they know deep down you are mine."
Aiden must sense the defiance he flares within me, because he
smirks as my hand reaches out to find Ezra's cock and I tug on it
roughly. I match his pace, and the only sounds in the room are our
labored breaths and pleasured moans.
Sucking, tugging, fucking, all of us lost to our pleasure until we
come together as one. Killian is the first to go, ripping his cock from
Ezra’s mouth and covering my tits with his come. Ezra groans at the
sight of him coating me and fucks himself to his own release until it
mixes with Kill’s across my chest. Both of them immediately lean
down to lap each other’s come off me, as Aiden delivers more
powerful thrusts until he pulls out and finishes all over my stomach.
It was the best night of my life. All of them taking turns fucking
me, loving me, owning me. Until we weren’t four people, but one. I
have never felt pleasure like it and it’s how I thought I would spend
the rest of my life. In their arms, safe and protected. Just like I’d
always wanted.
I woke up the next morning ready for more, ready to risk it all
against my father just so I could have them. But I was no longer
part of the murder. I had been left there, cold and utterly alone.
My three Crows took my friendship, my virginity, and my heart,
smashing them all to pieces. Wrecking us forever.
I thought if I just waited a little more, things could be different.
They just needed time, but time is the one thing we didn’t have. The
monster I didn’t even know I had to fear yet had already been
watching, had already decided I was to be his. He took me and
made it so I belonged to only him. He thought he would ruin me.
Thought he could break me down until I was nothing but his little
rose.
What he didn’t know is, you can’t break something that has
already been annihilated.
M y dad is dead. I’m staring down at his freshly soiled grave,
and still I can’t believe it. The rain is soaking through me,
drenching me from head to toe. But I can’t leave. He’s
dead. The only man to ever truly love me without reason, is gone,
when I only just got him back. When he only just got me back. What
kind of sick and twisted punishment is that?
Two months. That’s how long I’ve been home. Home. Such a
strange concept. The clubhouse always felt like home, even when it
shouldn’t have, but now it’s my prison. That feeling of being locked
up has never been more reinforced than now, as I stare down at the
fresh mound of dirt that covers my father’s final resting place. I have
no idea how we got here, or what I'm going to do, but I know I
have to do something. Escape.
 Have you ever been to the zoo and seen a caged animal? How
they just lay there, waiting around for the next time their keeper
comes. They do nothing, have no control, and just lie there and
patiently wait to obey. Their keeper feeds them, cares for them, and
forces them to do whatever they want in return for small rewards.
Training them to respond to them and them alone. Well that’s me,
caged and forever without control. The only life I have is at the
mercy of others, trapped behind metal bars, both physically and
metaphorically.
First I was trapped by my father, then by him, now by them.
They think they own me, that they can control me. Punish me. Ruin
me. But what they don’t know is, it’s too late to try to rule me. So
while the keeper tries to manipulate the caged animal, forcing it into
playing their games, and thinking they are in power. The prey is just
biding their time.
Watching. Waiting. Wondering.
Until there comes a moment when that prey becomes the
predator. I've always been good at watching, and now I’m just
waiting for my moment.
You can't tell by looking at me, but I’ve gone from one cage to
another. One of them was peaceful, the other is brutal. One of them
was run by a man of power, the other is run by savages. My current
prison is one I’m familiar with, and that’s the problem. I know my
captors better than I know myself. They’re depraved, get off on the
power they wield over others, and now they rule my life.
I feel someone approaching, but I don't turn around. “We’re
leaving.” Ezra’s cold tone hurts just as much as the sting of grief.
Every word out of his mouth feels like a whip against my skin.
Burning me to the bone. He never used to be like this, cold, I mean.
He was warm, playful, fun to be around, but that Ezra doesn’t exist,
not anymore. Not to me.
It would be the same with the others, if they cared to even speak
to me, not that I’ve spoken to them. I haven’t said a word. Not since
Claire came into my room the day they all went to take down Elliot
Donovan. They hadn’t even been gone for two hours when I heard
the roar of their bikes returning. My shoulders sagged in relief, and
when the knock came on my door, I rushed to it, thinking I would be
greeting my father. Instead I found Claire’s grief-stricken face. She
didn’t even have to say it, I just knew. I knew he was gone.
My body moved before my mind could register it to do so,
rushing towards the main floor, telling myself over and over that it
wasn’t true. That my dad wasn’t gone. What little breath was left in
my lungs vanished at the sight of the crowd of Crows gathered
around his lifeless body. I knew it was over. That he was gone, and I
was alone. I walked towards him, and they all parted to let me
through so I could see him. I probably should have felt something,
anything, as I stared down at his bloodied corpse, but I felt nothing.
I haven’t felt anything in almost two years. Not since him.
I don’t remember much after that, not the rest of that night, or
the last few weeks. Nothing but black, empty days. Claire arranged
the funeral while Aiden Graves, one of the first men I ever loved,
and the devil I know, was voted in to become the new President of
the HCMC.
I take one last look at my dad's final resting place, and then turn
and head back towards the row of black cars, most of them already
leaving. Aiden and Killian are at the front of the convoy of bikes
ready to trail after the procession, both of them staring at me. It’s
the most they have looked my way since I came back. I watch as
Ezra moves towards them until he is atop his own bike, and then
they all watch me. Waiting for me to climb into the last black car
alone.
That’s what I am now, all alone.
The drive back to the clubhouse is quick, and when we arrive,
everyone moves into the bar area. All of them are ready to raise a
final toast to their deceased President. I can’t bear it, the people,
the noise, the bullshit. I just want it all to stop. I find myself missing
the solace I had when I was being kept prisoner, and I know one
place here I can go to find that kind of peace. Church.
Not an actual church of course. Not in a place like this that sees
so many sins, but the place where everything that matters is
decided. I push through the oak double doors and slip inside. No
women are allowed in here, but I was always the exception to that
rule when it came to my father. I wonder how the new President
feels about that rule. Whether he will banish me from entering here
ever again.
My hands trail over the intricate skull design of the long wooden
table like they have done so many times over the years. Black
leather chairs are lined on either side, all subtly angled towards the
chair at the head of the table. I move until I can flop down into it,
taking a deep breath as I close my eyes and think about all the
times I’d find my dad here.
The smell of leather and smoke lingers in the air as I run my
fingers along the side of his chair, up onto the table and around the
gavel that would always seal his orders. Just desperately trying to
feel close to him. I plead for my mind to fill with happy memories of
all the time we did get to spend together. But the only thing that I
can think of is that out of everything that he did to me in the last
two years, robbing me of more time with my dad is the worst.
I don’t know how long I sit there, letting the memories of my
dad’s past wash over me, but it’s long enough that a part of mine
finds me. The door slams closed and when my eyes snap open, I
find those green emeralds locked in on mine.
Aiden Graves is still devastatingly dangerous, and brutally
beautiful. A man most would fear, but I never felt the need to,
because when I used to look at him I would always find his eyes
filled with wonder and restraint. That isn’t the case anymore as his
blank, hate filled stare locks with mine. He doesn’t say anything and
neither do I. What can we say? They left me, then I betrayed them
in the worst way they could ever imagine. Creating a smoke screen
of lies and treachery.
The silence lingers on, as both of us are lost in our own oceans
of recollections. Replaying everything that happened, from forgotten
memories and partial truths mixed with conceived lies. Even if I were
to purge myself to him here and now, he wouldn’t believe me. My
words are nothing in comparison to what he thinks he saw. So
silence is my only ally.
But I can’t sit under the distaste in his eyes, I slowly rise, making
my way towards the door, as he moves towards the table. His scent
taking me back to the night of my eighteenth birthday as I pass, and
I stop myself from asking him what happened. Why didn’t they stay?
Why did they leave me alone? Why did they ignore me as if I never
existed? But I can’t. I keep my mouth closed and my eyes down,
ever the perfect, docile being.
“You know, I came for you.” Aiden’s words halt my exit, and he
continues. “A week after you were taken. I risked everything, and
came for you. Do you know what I found?”
My eyes flutter closed as my fingers trail over my empty chest
out of habit, I can’t handle the words I know are about to leave his
mouth. His version of events.
“You were having dinner with him, smiling, letting him touch you,
you looked happy.” I hear his footsteps on the floor as he
approaches me, and when I feel his hot breath on the back of my
neck, the first tear escapes. “It made me sick.”
He flips me around and slams my back against the door. “You
make me sick, Rebecca. I don’t care about our past or your family
name, I just want you to know.” He leans in close, like he might be
going in for a kiss if I didn’t know any better. “The sight of you
makes me fucking sick.”
He releases me without another look in my direction and storms
out of the room, leaving it even colder than before. I can no longer
bear the sight of it. I turn and flee, heading for the safety of my
room and once there, I collapse against the door and cry for the first
time since I was told I had to stop.
I cry for my dad, for myself, and for my Crows. I cry for them,
because no matter how much they hate me, it could never be more
than I hate myself. The things I’ve done, or worse the things I
haven’t done, it makes that disdain build up inside of me, until I feel
nothing but that. The shame, the guilt, the regret, all of it is nothing
in comparison to the fucking hate.
I wish his words didn’t wash over me, I wish I didn’t feel his
silent command pulse beneath my skin like it came from my own
brain. But it does, just like always. I take a deep breath, as I
remember that women of stature don’t cry. My shaky fingers wiping
the remnants of my breakdown from my cheeks and then smoothing
out my dress.
When I have fully composed myself, I turn around, ready to
shower and cleanse myself of this awful day. But when my teary
eyes clear they lock in on an item on the center of my bed that
definitely wasn’t there when I left for the funeral. A lone white rose
sits wrapped in a single red ribbon, and the fear that grips me
transports me right back to my old cage.
I thought I was free, saved. That he was gone from my life and
now only existed in my mind, but I was wrong. How could I have
been so stupid?
Mayor Carter Fitzgerald is back, or maybe he never even left.
Either way, he’s here and he won’t stop until he possesses me
again.
And this time, I have nobody but myself to save me.
I fucking hate funerals. I have been to far too many of them. My
mother’s, my father’s, fallen brothers’, and now my fucking
President. That title and patch now sewn into my own cut, the
weight of it indescribable. I don't know how we got here, how
everything went from being completely normal to totally fucked up.
I've lost the man who was more than just a President to me, and in
return gained a fucking mountain of problems.
The clubhouse used to be a place of solace for me, somewhere I
always felt comfortable, calm, and collected. But as I sit here, in a
place that now belongs to me, I’ve never felt more unsettled. I
knock back my fourth drink, willing the amber liquid to flow through
me and take away the taunts of this day. But the burn of whiskey is
nothing compared to the fire of hatred I feel for Rebecca O’Sullivan.
If it weren’t for her, none of this would have even fucking
happened.
Two years she was gone, living a life of lies with the fucking
Mayor, and now she’s only been back two months and everything is
already fucked. She’s back, the MC Princess, the pretty little
temptress that fooled us all. She isn’t supposed to be here, Connor
isn’t supposed to be dead, and I sure as shit ain’t supposed to be
fucking President.
I think about seeing her sitting there in that chair, his chair, my
fucking chair, eyes closed, looking for the quiet. A predator's perfect
hunting ground. Of course she’s still as beautiful as the day she left,
more even. Her eyes no longer hold that innocence and vulnerability
that used to remind us to stay away from her. I imagine Mayor
Fitzgerald had a lot of fun fucking that out of her. I wonder how
much she liked it? If she clenched around his cock like she did mine.
If he could make her eyes roll into the back of her head as she came
on his dick? I fucking hate her.
I wish I could toss her out on her ass and never think about her
again. Send her crawling back to that rich fucking asshole Fitzgerald
on her hands and fucking knees. But the lawyer's words are still
ringing in my head from this morning before the funeral.
“Everything belongs to her, Mr. Graves.”
I’m not surprised, Connor cared about the club, and his brothers,
but his daughter was the only thing he ever truly loved. So of course
he left everything to her, all the properties, the money, even his
fucking bike. All hers. An MC Princess turned fucking Queen. But not
if I have anything to do with it, Connor is dead, so now it’s my duty
to make sure everything he built isn’t ruined in the hands of his only
heir.
I fill my glass with another shot, knocking it back instantly, just
as a hand grazes up my thigh. “Hey, Mr President.” Candice, one of
the club groupies purrs into my ear. I used to respect her, all of
them, until I realized they were only good for one thing.
Candice has been around here since the moment she turned
eighteen, sucking any dick she can wrap her mouth around, hoping
one of the Crows will make her an old lady. She is starting to get
ideas in her head that it might be me. If only she knew I’d have only
let one woman tame me, and it’s the one who turned me into the
monster I am today.
She should know better by now, just because I fuck her doesn't
mean I love her. I barely even like her, fucking tolerate her, but I
have needs, and she's always there. I’m more on edge and tense
these days. Like everyone is watching me, waiting for me to fuck up,
and let’s not forget about our newest in house guest. Silently
slinking around the place like she owns it, which I guess she fucking
does. Fuck. I pour and toss one more shot, wishing for the smooth
burn to calm me.
Candice reaches up and whispers, “Let me take care of this.” She
flexes her fingers around my hardened cock, and I have to blink
back into concentration, I didn’t even feel it.
I grunt, but still follow after her as she drags me off the stool
and out of the room. She starts heading towards the basement,
something I stop immediately. We never fuck girls in there. Not since
her and never again. It was tainted the night we let the President’s
daughter fuck us, and fuck with us. Instead I drag her in the
opposite direction, a plan forming in my head to feed the need
crawling inside my veins. Oh, yes, time to rattle the rat.
I pull her down the hall and slam her against a door as I bite
down on her neck, before backing away and pushing her to her
knees. She drops down like the obedient club whore I know her to
be, and just as she slides her mouth around my slick crown, the
occupant of the door opens it wide to inspect the intrusion.
Rebecca’s eyes flaring in surprise.
Candice takes me to the back of her throat, unaware of our
audience, not that she’d be bothered, and I fist her hair hard. “Fuck.
No one knows how to suck my cock like you.” I grunt. I’m
exaggerating for effect, she’s a sloppy six out of ten at best, but my
barb gets the warranted reaction as I see Rebecca’s glare harden.
I want her to watch me fuck someone’s mouth, just like the night
I watched Killian fuck hers. I want her to see she has no effect on
me. I want her to see that no one wants her here, least of all me.
There was a time I'd have done anything for her and I did. But that
was before. Before that night, before him, before fucking
everything.
I ready for her to slam the door, but instead she leans against it,
settling in to watch the show, her tears and reservations from
before, nowhere to be found. She’s transformed back into the
perfectly polished little doll she’s become.
How did he do it? How did he get the fiery, disobedient princess
to become this delicate little mouse? His cock must be made of
fucking gold, or should I say his wallet. God I bet she is gagging for
both now it’s gone. I wonder if she fucks her tight little cunt every
night to thoughts of him? Just the idea of it has me slamming to the
back of Candice’s mouth.
Rebecca stares at me as I continue to fuck the whore’s throat,
looking for something that isn't there anymore, I'm sure. Then her
gaze slowly travels down my body, like she is merely surveying the
weather, until she reaches the woman at my feet. A position she will
be more than familiar with now, after being the Mayor's whore for
the last two years. That hatred I feel for her flares to the surface.
“Looking to pick up some tips?” I goad, and I feel Candice draw
back, letting my cock fall from her mouth, as she turns to take in our
spectator. An evil smirk appears on her face. She hates her almost as
much as I do, which is why she was perfect for this.
“You want some pointers, little Sully? I’m sure you didn’t get any
better at sucking cock all that time you were away.” She drawls with
a shrug. “Or who knows, maybe you did, how often did you find
yourself on your knees for our esteemed Mayor?”
Fuck, her claws are sharp today, she must be feeling the effects
of Rebecca’s presence more than I thought. I'm going to have to
reward her with an orgasm for that one. Rebecca always prided
herself on being different from the other girls, and she was, but I
guess everyone's a whore for the right man.
Connor believed the story of her capture so easily, and so did I.
We all did, but he was too scared of the threat to Rebecca's life to
retaliate. I however, wasn't going to sit around and do nothing while
some sick fuck had my girl. I gave him a week to do something, and
when he didn’t, I did. I went into the night, armed to the teeth and
ready for anything. I had a thousand scenarios in my head of what
to expect, none of them are what I got. I'd heard the rumors of how
Elliot Donovan and his crew treated the girls they took, I expected
no different from Carter Fitzgerald.
I imagined a bare mattress and chains, bruises and starvation,
torture and more. I didn't expect wining and dining, smiles and
conversation. She didn't look scared or panicked, she looked happy
and settled. It made me sick to my stomach. That was the first
moment I realized what a talented little liar Rebecca O'Sullivan was.
“I’d rather drop to my knees by choice, than dive to them in
desperation.” Rebecca bites back, and her voice travels right to my
cock. Fucking traitor. I need to shut this down.
"Yeah, well unless you are ready to drop to your knees beside
her, fuck off, we're busy." I dismiss her, but she doesn’t move. I
glance down to Candice, but the whiskey fueled sexual need I had
for her has disappeared completely.
I huff, “Leave.” Candice smiles, until she realizes I’m talking to
her.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me?” She fumes, and I see
the glee sparkle in Rebecca’s eyes. We can’t have that.
I hold my hand out, helping Candice to her feet, then curl her
hair around her ear, gripping her face in my palm and leaning in. “I’ll
come find you soon, just need to deal with the unwanted trash first.”
She preens under my words, then sticks her tongue in my mouth,
dry humping me into the wall, which I allow for a few seconds,
before I push her off. She tosses a disgusted look towards our
audience and then saunters off back to the party.
I push off the wall, my cock still out, and frame Rebecca on
either side of her door. She doesn’t move an inch. “There are some
new rules you need to start following, Princess.”
I’m so close that her scent wraps around me, taking me back to
the night I watched her take my brother's cock to the back of her
beautiful throat. I can’t stop myself, my hand reaches up on instinct,
wrapping around it. Her whole demeanor changes, like she is
submitting to me without pause. Like my hand around her neck is a
reset button.
 My breath is hot on her cheek as I speak. “You are to be seen
and not heard, here, but not present, and if I ever deem you fit
enough to put you on your knees for me, you will drop to them
without hesitation.” I use the grip on her neck to force her head to
the side where I feel the presence of my brother now lingering.
“Those rules apply to all three of us, Rebecca, so don’t fucking test
me.”
I snap her neck back towards me and lean in until our lips are a
breath from one another. “And don’t for one second think you can
run back to your elite fucking keeper to save yourself. You belong to
us now.”
I release her with a push, expecting to find fear, sadness, fucking
anything that isn’t the indifferent expression she has worn since the
moment she came back. Instead there is nothing, not even a flicker
of emotion as she stares at me, then she opens her mouth to speak
to me. I ready myself to hear whatever she is going to say,
considering she hasn’t spoken to me directly in two years. The last
time she did, she was moaning my name as I fucked her.
“Be careful where you draw the battle lines, Graves. I know how
to play the game this time.” She purrs, giving one last look to my
cock before she slams the door in my face.
I smirk at her words before I catch myself, and my brother’s
voice hits my ear. “You promised this wasn’t going to become a thing
again.” Ezra barks, and I force my gaze to his. He’s glaring at me
with disdain covering his face.
I push off her doorway and walk towards him. “Well, you know
better than anyone, promises always get broken.”
I don’t say anything else as I push past him, and head back to
the party. I need more whiskey, and to finish down someone's
throat, preferably in that order. I grab a bottle of Macallan from the
top shelf of the bar, find Candice, and drag her to the garage at the
side of the clubhouse. I by pass the dick sucking and instead slide
on a rubber and bend her over, fucking her hard and fast. Trying my
best to not imagine her blonde locks are really black, and her cunt
isn’t the one I still find myself wanting to sink inside.
 I pick up my pace and force her face from my mind. I don’t think
about Rebecca, my brothers, or all the fucking problems I’ve
inherited since becoming President. Just concentrate on the feeling
of my hard cock sliding inside her sloppy cunt, and pretend
everything is okay, when in reality things haven’t been okay in two
years.
Fuck you Connor for getting yourself killed and leaving all this
shit to me, and fuck your daughter too.
 TWO YEARS AGO

S undays are reserved for families only at HCMC. It's the one
day my dad always lets me come around, not that he could
really stop me. Ever since I was fourteen and met the guys, I
have been coming here any chance I get. Now that I’m almost
eighteen he is a little more lenient with me.
The clubhouse is still quiet when I arrive, the aftermath of last
night's party no doubt, and a few of the regular girls are making
their way out as I enter. I spot Candice at the same time she spots
me and I grind my teeth. She has her sights set on my guys more so
than I do. The only difference between her and me, is that she
actually gets to be with them whenever she wants.
 She yawns dramatically before speaking loudly to her friend.
“Aiden really knows how to wear a girl out,” she exclaims, her eyes
firmly fixed on me as I pass. I tell myself I don’t care, but I do, not
that I will let her know that. I’m almost past them when she adds,
“He made me come four times, if that ain’t old lady treatment I don’t
know what is.”
I don’t know how it happens, but before I even realize what I’m
doing, I have her slammed against the wall with my arm across her
neck. Her little friend screams dramatically beside me, but I ignore
her in favor of getting in Candice's face, and instead of fear all I find
is smug eyes.
“Something to say, little Sully?” She drags out Aiden’s nickname
for me like a curse, and I push my hand against her windpipe
harder.
“Just because he fucks you, doesn’t mean he cares for you,” I
seethe through gritted teeth.
Candice smirks. “Oh, it seemed like he cared when he took my
ass last night.” She purrs, “Yeah, it seemed like he really cared a lot.”
“You’re nothing but a club whore with no self respect. They will
never be yours, no matter how good you are at sucking their cocks.”
I let every bit of hatred and jealousy pour into my voice as I stare at
her in disgust. They might not be completely mine just yet, but they
will be, I have a plan.
An arm curls around my stomach pulling me back, at the same
time Ezra’s scent wraps around me. “Naughty, Love.” He purrs in my
ear, but my focus remains on the girl in front of me who just smirks.
“At least I’m allowed to suck their cocks.” She gleams, and I
throw myself at her again, but Ezra’s muscular arm keeps me in
place.
“Fuck off, Candice,” he starts. “Sunday is family day and you ain’t
family.” His usual playful tone is lost to his underlying temper that he
rarely lets out, and I stop flailing against him. Doesn't matter where
I am or what is going on, I can always count on Ezra to have my
back.
Candice huffs, taking one last look at me, her gaze lingering
slightly on his arm around my waist. That look spells trouble, and I
practically feel her sneer before she is storming away with her friend
hurrying after her. I relax into Ezra’s chest as soon as the door slams
behind her, grateful for the homey feeling he always brings me. He’s
my safe place.
“Why do you let her get to you?” He asks, his words barely above
a whisper, but seen as though my back is pressed against his front
with his arms curled around me, his voice lands right into my ear. It
sends a shiver down my spine and I tremble against him slightly,
praying he doesn’t notice the goosebumps on my skin.
Ezra has crossed that invisible line with me before, maybe he can
be the start of us all crossing it together. “Because I’m sick of her
getting to do what I want to do,” I whisper back boldly.
His lips graze the skin of my neck and I feel my core begin to
throb as he asks, “And what do you want, Love?” I swear I feel his
tongue dart out against my ear, and I suck in a sharp breath.
“I want to suck a dick,” I admit freely, knowing he won’t judge
me, and his hand grips my waist tightly with a groan. He pushes me
forward until we are in an alcove of the hallway, only the dim light
from the other room allowing us to see.
“And have you ever sucked someone's cock before, Bex?” He
purrs, and this time I definitely feel the tip of his tongue against my
ear. The warm metal of his tongue piercing a dead giveaway. It
might as well have been against my clit with the rush of pleasure it
gives me, and suddenly it's all I can imagine. The mixture of his wet
tongue and hard metal caressing me in my most intimate place. I
clench at just the thought of it, desperate for it to become a reality.
“No.” I answer without shame, before adding, “But how hard can
it be?” I ask breathily, pushing my ass into his groin slightly, and
relishing in his grunt. I feel his hardness growing against my ass like
steel, and a rush of arousal takes over my body. I roll my ass again
ever so slightly, just the lightest of frictions, but still it feels sinful.
His grip tightens on my stomach, his fingers almost under the
waistband of my jean shorts as he grits out, “So fucking hard.” He
pulls me closer to him so I can feel the evidence of his full arousal,
as his thick, hard, length, presses between my ass cheeks even
more. I can’t help myself, I grind against it again shamelessly, and
am rewarded with another groan as his grip tightens once more,
pulling the tight fabric of my jeans right against my clit.
“Bex,” he whispers desperately. His fingers slipping beneath my
shorts, moving towards my drenched thong. My breaths come in
quick, short pants. The ache in my core needing relief, and I think I
might cry as his fingers ghost over my center. We roll our hips
together in sync this time, both seeking and giving the friction we
are both mad for, and just as he is about to sink a finger beneath my
slick folds, we are interrupted.
“What the fuck is going on?” It’s like cold water is thrown on us,
as Aiden's voice thunders down the hallway. Ezra rips away from me
like he has been electrocuted, and I recoil at the venom lacing
Aiden’s tone.
I turn to see him storming towards us with more than murder in
his eyes. He stops right in front of me, taking in my flushed skin,
and lust filled gaze, but it does nothing to penetrate his hardened
armor. My sexual desire scorches through me, and I will for one of
them to take pity on me, right here and now, and make me come.
Aiden swings his gaze to Ezra. “Do you have a fucking death
wish?” He spits at him. “If I was Connor finding you pressed against
his precious little princess like that, you’d be out of this place faster
than you can even fucking blink.” I have never seen him this angry,
his green eyes darkened almost completely.
I can’t stand him berating Ezra like this, so I step forward. “We
weren’t doing anything wrong, Aiden.” I start, but falter when his
deathly gaze flicks back to mine.
“You’re a fucking minor, Rebecca.” He claps back at me, like I’m a
petulant little child he needs to scold, and I fucking hate him for it.
I close the gap between us so my breasts brush up against his
torso, while he towers over me, his chin dipping down to glare at
me.
“If you hadn't interrupted us, I could have shown Ezra how much
of a woman I already am.” I relish the tick in his jaw, and his face
hardens further when I step away, making a show of checking Ezra
out. “Come find me another time, E. You can take me for a ride
anytime.” I let the innuendo hang in the air between us, before I
leave them standing there staring after me. Their eyes caressing my
skin every step of the way.
Aiden might think he has the restraint of a fucking saint, but little
does he know I have been watching him. All of them, and I know
exactly how I am going to break through their walls. If I have to
wait until I turn eighteen to do it, then so be it. He won’t know what
has hit him, none of them will.
The rest of the day I spend by my dad's side, it’s out of character
for me, and he knows it with the way he keeps glaring at me, and
my guys. Usually it’s their side I don’t leave, not since I met them
anyway, but something shifted between us earlier, an invisible line
was drawn even deeper in the sand, and now it’s just a matter of
time before one of us crosses it. I know it, they know it.
T he fire in her eyes was back tonight, not for long, but it was
there. I saw her glare harden as she went head to head with
Aiden, and for the first time since she’s been home, I saw the
old Rebecca. Except she isn’t the old Rebecca, she's the new, poised,
and perfectly polished version. Everything about her is different, the
way she walks, the way she talks, the clothes she wears, how she
does her makeup. All of it nothing like the rebellious President's
daughter I knew her to be.
I liked her, even when I shouldn’t have. Kissed her when I knew
it was wrong. Fucked her the moment it was legal, and even though
it felt so right, it was the biggest mistake I have ever made. Tasting
the apple of temptation, and then heading straight to hell to atone
for my sins.
 Rebecca had always been a weakness none of us could afford to
have. I wish I could hate her, it would make things easier, but I just
feel sorry for her. We fucked her, then left her, then her so-called
kidnapping led her to a new life. One I thought she’d live forever,
until Elle King and the Rebels foiled her forgery. I wonder if now that
Connor is completely out of the picture, will she leave to be with the
Mayor?
One of the club whores climbs into my lap, jolting me from my
inner thoughts as she grinds against my jean clad groin. I try to
enjoy it, try to feel just the tiniest bit of attraction to her, but I can’t,
not since Rebecca came home. When she was gone, and I forced
myself to move on from her betrayal, I had a different girl every
week, sometimes two, getting off any way I could to forget all about
the fraudster who fucked us all.
That changed the night Elle brought Rebecca home, and the
temptation of my past climbed out of her SUV, locking those dark
green eyes on mine.
Every girl since then has felt like a betrayal. Rebecca isn’t mine,
she was never going to be, but for one night, she was. For one night
she belonged to all of us, and I know I’m not the only one who will
never forget that. I push the girl off, not even bothering to stay to
listen to her attempts to seduce me, and move through the crowd,
heading to the basement.
Aiden no longer stays down here with us, having taken over
Connor’s room, so Killian and I can have this place to ourselves. I
find Kill splayed out on his bed in the corner, a slight nod offered at
my arrival. I nod back, not in the mood to exchange pointless words,
just heading straight to the small bar we have here just for us. I
pour a healthy dose of the amber liquid and knock it back, before
pouring another and doing the same.
Once the burn laces my throat I head over to the bed and flop
down beside Killian. “No pussy tonight?” He asks, and I huff, shaking
my head. I don't know how we reached this stalemate between us,
where neither of us ask for more, but I know deep down it leads
back to Rebecca.
 “You know I have no true interest in anyone else here.” I cock my
head to look at him. His auburn stare, already locked on mine.
I have been in love with Killian Drake for as long as I can
remember. My silent and brooding soldier. We don’t have a
conventional relationship by any standards, we fuck who we want,
where we want, but neither of us have ever gotten entangled in
something serious. It’s not a rule we have or anything, more like a
silent agreement neither of us asked of the other. Yet I know neither
of us have fucked anyone but each other since Rebecca came home.
I don’t want to delve into why that is.
Outside of Aiden, no one else knows about us, well no one
except Rebecca. I still remember how she shocked the shit out of us
that night when she revealed what she knew. I’m not ashamed of
my sexual orientation, but I just don’t fuck with labels. I like who I
like, love who I love, and fuck who I fuck. Why the hell should I
have to label that to fuel someone else’s understanding of me?
Killian laughs, but as usual there isn't any humor within it. “That’s
the first lie you've ever told me.” He shakes his head in amusement
at my furrowed brow, until I realize he is referring to Rebecca.
“She doesn’t interest me.” I snap, far too quickly, and he rolls his
eyes, placing the joint over my lips, and letting me inhale.
I take the hit, followed by his hard lips coming down on mine as
he breathes in the smoke, sharing the high with me. Killian behind
closed doors is my favorite. Outside of this haven of ours, he
becomes someone else. Not because he wants to, but because he
needs to. He’s the club enforcer, has a reputation most would cower
from, and he doesn’t let anything get to him when he puts his arm
through his Crows’ cut.
When he realizes that even with his help, I still can’t relax, he
jumps up, nudging me as he goes. “Come on, let’s go play.”
“Where are we going?” I ask, even though I am already off the
bed and following him.
He leads us through the party, out of the clubhouse, and towards
our private garage at the back. No one is allowed in here. It was our
former President’s place of solace. Where he would come to think,
plan, and mostly to mourn the loss of his daughter.
 Kill, Aiden, and I have since made it our place. Connor’s cut
hangs on the wall, and his bike is mounted in the corner. We kept
the same small sofa Connor bought for this place, and the same
beer fridge. It’s the one place we know we won’t be bothered, but
open enough for us to dance along the edge of risk. He knows how
much I love it here.
I barely make it through the door before I am being slammed
into the wall. “You just lied to me,” Killian growls, “Twice.” I can’t
respond because his tongue pushes inside my mouth, tangling with
mine, as he claims me right there against the wall. His smokey and
rich taste, one of my all time favorite flavors.
He rips away from my mouth, kissing across my jaw and down
my neck, pulling my cut aside so his tongue can caress my collar
bone. "Should I punish you for it, or remind you who you belong
to?" His words followed by his wicked tongue against my skin makes
me groan, reaching out to grip his strong arms.
“I didn’t lie,” I start, but am silenced when he wraps his hand
around my cock through my jeans and squeezes.
“I know you better than anyone, E. I guess I need to remind
you.” He rips open my jeans, roughly shoving his hand inside, his
calloused palm stroking my shaft in the most delicious way. I groan
as his thumb swipes through the precum already leaking at my tip.
“Fuck, Kill.” He knows exactly how to touch me. I thrust into his
hand, but it isn’t enough, and he knows it.
He pulls his hand out and drops to his knees. Ripping open my
belt with ease, before tracking down my zipper and freeing my hard
cock. His tongue darts out, flicking against my slit, and I hiss at the
thrilling contact. He smiles up at me as he does it again, and my
hand jumps out to grip his chin. “Don’t tease me, Baby. Take my
cock like you own it.”
He offers me a wicked smile as he says, “I do own it.” Then he
swallows me down, wrapping that sinful mouth around my cock like
a fucking hoover. His tongue caressing the underside, as one of his
hands comes up to grip my base in a tight hold. I groan, watching
his head bob back and forth on my dick without a gag reflex in
sight.
Another random document with
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In his relations to Carleton, at any rate, he seems to have been open
to no reproach. But he tried too many things to be first-rate in
anything; he was not adequate to a great crisis and to heavy
responsibility: and because he was not of the first class, and also
because he had much dramatic instinct, he seems to have had more
eye for present effect than for the root of matters. He was educated
at Westminster School, and, when he died in 1792, he was buried in
the northern cloister of Westminster Abbey. He was a soldier, a
politician, a dramatist, and a man of society. He entered the army in
1740, again two years before Carleton’s military service began. He
became so involved in debt that he had to sell his commission. He
rejoined the army in 1756, and in 1762 he distinguished himself in
Portugal, where the English supported the Portuguese against Spain
and France. A few years later, however, in 1769, Junius referred to
him as ‘not very conspicuous in his profession’.[132] He went into the
House of Commons in 1761 as member for Midhurst. In 1768,
through the influence of his father-in-law, Lord Derby, he became
member for Preston, and, in connexion with his election, was
attacked by Junius for corruption and also for his gambling
propensities. As a politician he was, before he went to America,
more or less of a free-lance. He spoke on foreign and Indian
questions, and in 1773 made a speech in the House of Commons,
attacking Clive. After the catastrophe at Saratoga, and his return to
England, he threw in his lot with the Whigs, having been befriended
by Fox and his followers; he became Commander-in-Chief in Ireland
under Rockingham; and in 1787 he managed the impeachment of
Warren Hastings. Before the American war broke out, he produced
in 1774 a play called The Maid of the Oaks, of which Horace Walpole
wrote: ‘There is a new puppet show at Drury Lane as fine as scenes
can make it, called The Maid of the Oaks, and as dull as the author
could not help making it.’[133] At a later date, however, Walpole had
to confess that ‘General Burgoyne has written the best modern
comedy’.[134] This was The Heiress, which was brought out in the
beginning of 1786, and achieved a great success. Walpole had no
love for Burgoyne, at any rate at the time when the latter served in
America. ‘You ask the history of Burgoyne the pompous,’ he wrote in
October, 1777,[135] the month in which the surrender at Saratoga
took place; and after describing him as ‘a fortunate gamester’, he
continued, ‘I have heard him speak in Parliament, just as he writes:
for all his speeches were written and laboured, and yet neither in
them nor in his conversation did he ever impress me with an idea of
his having parts.’ Burgoyne’s affectation and mannerism may have
been due to the fact that he was essentially a man of society, as
society was then. He had eloped in early life with Lord Derby’s
daughter, and, like Charles Fox, was a confirmed gambler. The world
of London was his world, and the standard by which he measured
things was not the standard of all time. When he went out in 1777 to
command the expedition from Canada, he was on the flowing tide of
fortune, and the tone of his proclamations gave Walpole cause for
sarcastic comment. ‘Have you read General Burgoyne’s
rhodomontade, in which he almost promises to cross America in a
hop, step, and a jump?’[136] ‘Burgoyne has sent over a manifesto
that if he was to over-run ten provinces would appear too
pompous.’[136] ‘I heard to-day at Richmond that Julius Caesar
Burgonius’s Commentaries are to be published in an Extraordinary
Gazette of three-and-twenty pages in folio to-morrow—a counterpart
to the Iliad in a nutshell.’[136] All these three passages were written
in August, 1777, while Burgoyne’s expedition was proceeding. The
writer of them did not like Burgoyne, and did not like the war in which
Burgoyne was engaged; but, though Burgoyne lent himself to
criticism and lacked the qualities which the time and place
demanded, his story is by no means the story either of a bad soldier
or of a bad man; it is rather the story of a second-rate man set with
inadequate means to solve a problem of first-rate importance.
Having completed his preparations, Burgoyne Burgoyne’s
reached Crown Point on the 26th of June, preparatory advance against
Ticonderoga.
to attacking Ticonderoga. The full control of the
operations had passed into his own hands, for, by Germain’s
instructions, Carleton’s authority was limited by the boundary line of
Canada, and that line was drawn far north of Crown Point and
Ticonderoga, cutting the outlet of Lake Champlain near the point of
land named Point au Fer. The total force amounted to rather over
7,000 men, nearly half of whom were Germans under the command
of Baron Riedesel. The advance was made on both sides of the lake,
the Germans being on the eastern shore, the British on the western
—the side on which were Crown Point and Ticonderoga. The
Americans, too, held positions on both sides of the The American
lake, for, over against the peninsula on which position at
Ticonderoga.
Ticonderoga stood, there jutted out another point of
land, described in Burgoyne’s dispatch as ‘high and circular’, but in
reality rather oblong in form, rising well above the level of the lake
and skirted in part on the land side by a rivulet. It was called Mount
Independence, and was strongly held and fortified. The lake, here
narrowed to a river, is about a quarter of a mile across, and between
Ticonderoga and Mount Independence a bridge had been
constructed, consisting of sunken timber piers connected by floating
timber, the whole being guarded in front by a heavy boom of wood
strengthened by iron rivets and chains.
 MAP TO ILLUSTRATE BURGOYNE’S CAMPAIGN

Reduced from the Map published in ‘A State of the Expedition from Canada as laid before
the House of Commons by Lieutenant-General Burgoyne, London, 1780’

London, published as the Act directs, Feb. 1st 1780, by Wm. Faden, Charing Cross

To face p. 161

The Indian name Ticonderoga signified the confluence of three

waters. At this point the long narrow southern arm of Lake
Champlain, coming in from the south-east, meets the stream which
carries out the waters of Lake George into the third water, the main
lake Champlain. The outlet of Lake George describes a complete
semi-circle, and runs into Lake Champlain due west and east. The
direct route therefore from Lake Champlain to Lake George runs well
to the west of and inside the peninsula of Ticonderoga, cutting the
semi-circular stream without touching the peninsula. In this consisted
the weakness of the American position: unless the works were
extended further afield than they had men to hold them, part of the
attacking force could pass them by and invest Ticonderoga on the
southern as well as on the northern side, blocking retreat by the line
of Lake George. So it happened when Burgoyne’s army came on the
scene.
After three days’ stay at Crown Point to bring up all Burgoyne’s
his forces, the general on the 30th of June moved operations against
Ticonderoga.
forward his leading corps on either side of the lake,
and on the next day the whole army followed. On the 2nd of July the
Americans were reported to have abandoned the post which
guarded the bridge over the river from Lake George, to the west of
Ticonderoga, where saw-mills stood and which was the starting-point
of the ‘carrying place’ from Lake Champlain to Lake George. They
abandoned it, in order to concentrate their strength against the
English advance on the north-west. Burgoyne immediately moved
forward his troops and, driving the enemy back, on the night of the
2nd occupied the high ground on the west which commanded the
communications with Lake George, and thereby cut off the possibility
of retreat in that direction. On the 3rd and 4th the attacking forces
drew nearer to the two beleaguered forts, in spite of cannonade; and
on the night of the 4th, a party of light infantry occupied a height
called Sugar Hill, which stood on the southern bank of the outlet from
Lake George, in the angle between that stream and the southern
arm of Lake Champlain, overlooking and commanding both
Ticonderoga and Mount Independence at an estimated distance of
about 1,400 and 1,500 yards respectively. On the 5th guns were
being brought up to the hill, but, when the morning of The Americans
the 6th came, it was found that the American general, evacuate
position,
their

St. Clair, had carried his troops across by the bridge

from Ticonderoga, and, having evacuated both that post and Mount
Independence, was retreating by land and water.
By land and water Burgoyne’s men followed on the and are followed up
same day, the bridge and boom being broken for the by the English.
gunboats to pass through. At Skenesborough, where the navigation
of Lake Champlain ends, the enemy’s vessels were taken or
destroyed by the British squadron, and the detachment of Americans
who held the fort set fire to it and retreated to Fort Anne. Meanwhile,
diverging to the east in the direction of Castleton on the road to
Connecticut, General Fraser, commanding the van of the troops who
pursued by land, followed hard throughout the 6th upon the
American rearguard; Riedesel came up behind him with supports;
but, by agreement between the two commanders, Fraser, when night
fell, bivouacked three miles in front of his colleague. Early on the 7th
he attacked the Americans, who outnumbered his own troops, near a
place named Huberton, and was on the point of being beaten back
when the arrival of Riedesel converted a repulse into a victory. The
colonists were broken, their leader, Colonel Francis, and some 200
of his men were killed, about the same number were taken
prisoners, and a large number of wounded were supposed to have
lost their lives in the woods. Having completed the rout, on the 8th
and 9th Riedesel and Fraser came into touch with the main army at
Skenesborough.
At Skenesborough there was a portage from Lake Fight near Fort
Champlain to Wood Creek,[137] a stream which flows Anne.
into the lake from the south. While boats were being dragged across
from the lake to the river with a view to further advance, the 9th
Regiment was sent on by land to Fort Anne, twelve miles distant in a
due southerly direction. By the evening of the 7th the English drew
near to the fort, and on the following day they were attacked and
hard pressed by a stronger body of Americans. They took up a
position on a hill, and held their ground resolutely, until the whoop of
Indians told that reinforcements were coming up: the Americans then
gave way, and, setting fire to Fort Anne, fell back to Fort Edward.
The English in their turn returned to Skenesborough, in the
neighbourhood of which, on the 9th and 10th of July, the whole army,
excluding the troops required to garrison Ticonderoga, was
concentrated, the line extending eastward from the head of Lake
Champlain towards Castleton.
‘General Burgoyne has taken Ticonderoga, and Result of the
given a new complexion to the aspect of affairs, which operations.
was very wan indeed,’ wrote Horace Walpole, when the news
reached England.[138] So far the operations had been triumphantly
successful. Hardly an attempt had been made by the Americans to
hold their ground at Ticonderoga and Mount Independence, although
months had been spent in strengthening the positions, and the
number of the defenders was variously estimated at from 3,000 to
5,000 men. Great quantities of stores, of boats, of guns had fallen
into British hands: the enemy’s loss on the retreat had been heavy,
and the rapidity with which the retreat had been followed up had
caused widespread alarm. For the moment there seemed nothing to
check the tide of British victory, but time, place, and insufficiency of
numbers gradually told against Burgoyne’s enterprise. He, too, had
suffered some losses, though small when compared with those of
the Americans; and his army, already inadequate in numbers for the
expedition, was further weakened by the necessity of garrisoning
Ticonderoga with some 900 men. He applied to Carleton to supply
the requisite number of soldiers for the garrison from the troops who,
in accordance with the instructions from home, were retained for the
defence of Canada, but Carleton felt himself bound to refuse the
request. It was Germain who had given the orders, and yet the same
man, writing from England in the following September, on receipt of
Burgoyne’s account of the capture of Ticonderoga, stated that he
presumed that the post would be garrisoned from Canada.[139]
Burgoyne’s objective was the Hudson river and The two routes to
Albany. Fort Edward stood on the left or eastern bank the Hudson.
of the Hudson, a little below the point where that river curves to the
south, to flow direct to the Atlantic. It was twenty-six miles distant
from Skenesborough, and due south of that place. The first twelve
miles of the route from Skenesborough lay along Wood Creek, until
Fort Anne was reached, and from Fort Anne to Fort Edward was an
interval of fourteen miles. Three miles short of Fort Edward the road
joined the road to Fort Edward from Fort George, previously known
as Fort William Henry, at the head of Lake George, which was at
much the same distance from Fort Edward as Fort Anne, viz.,
fourteen to sixteen miles. The more obvious route of advance
towards the Hudson from Ticonderoga, and the one originally
contemplated, was along Lake George, and Burgoyne Burgoyne’s line of
was criticized for not taking that line—without good advance.
reason, because the American retreat had already determined the
choice of routes. Having immediately followed the enemy up as far
as Skenesborough, Burgoyne, as he justly pointed out, would have
been unwise to make a retrograde movement in order to adopt the
alternative line of advance by Lake George. Moreover, while the
troops were moving forward from Skenesborough viâ Wood Creek
and Fort Anne, supplies were being forwarded along Lake George in
order to meet him when he reached Fort Edward. But there was a
further reason, which in Burgoyne’s mind made for the His object was to
more easterly of the two routes. His own scheme for threaten the New
England States.
the campaign had inclined to carrying war to the east
into Connecticut and the New England states, in preference to a
direct advance to the Hudson and Albany; and, though his
instructions prevented his carrying out the plan which he preferred,
he might yet, as he advanced, threaten New England, and at the
same time gather supplies from a more promising country than
would be found in the Adirondack region on the west of Lake
George. Thus in a private letter to Germain, which accompanied his
dispatch from Skenesborough, detailing the success of his recent
operations, he wrote: ‘I a little lament that my orders do not give me
the latitude I ventured to propose in my original project for the
campaign, to make a real effort instead of a feint upon New England.
As things have turned out, were I at liberty to march in force
immediately by my left, instead of by my right, I should have little
doubt of subduing before winter the provinces where the rebellion
originated.’ It must be remembered that at this time British troops
were in occupation of Rhode Island, and that Sir William Howe had
originally planned a campaign in New England in 1777, only giving
up the scheme when he found that sufficient reinforcements from
Europe would not be forthcoming.
It was with the object of keeping the New England States in fear of
invasion, or, as he himself phrased it, ‘of giving jealousy to
Connecticut, and keeping in check the whole country called the
Hampshire Grants,’[140] that Burgoyne, while encamped at
Skenesborough, detached Riedesel to occupy Castleton about
fourteen miles to the east. Castleton was an important Riedesel sent to
point, because through it ran a road which connected Castleton.
Skenesborough by land with the shore of Lake Champlain opposite
Ticonderoga and Crown Point. Riedesel was absent for about twelve
days, and in the meantime preparations were pressed forward for a
further advance of the main army, the road to Fort Anne and the
parallel waterway of Wood Creek being cleared of obstructions.
Simultaneous preparations were made at Ticonderoga for forwarding
supplies by Lake George. On the 23rd of July the advanced guard
moved forward to Fort Anne: on the 25th the whole army had
reached that point; on the 29th, the van arrived at Fort Edward,
which the Americans had already evacuated, and on the 30th
Burgoyne arrived at the same place. A large convoy of provisions
sent by Lake George reached the head of that lake by the 29th, Fort
George like Fort Edward having been abandoned by The army arrives at
the enemy, who had carried off their stores. Thus the Fort Edward on the
Hudson river.
end of July found Burgoyne on the Hudson, well on his
way to Albany; the main difficulties of the expedition seemed to be
past; but as a matter of fact the most trying time was yet to come.
His communications were insecure, for he could not spare men to
guard them. His transport was inadequate, and so were his supplies.
Delay in bringing up stores meant time to the Americans to recover
their spirits and gather in his front: he had no tidings from Howe, and
no sure knowledge of St. Leger’s progress. He only knew that at all
hazards he was expected to make his way to Albany.
While he halted at Fort Edward, two untoward The beginning of
incidents took place. The first was a brutal murder by misfortunes.
Murder of Jane
Indians of a young white woman named Jane McCrae, McCrae by the
who had remained behind at or near Fort Edward, Indians.
when the Congress troops fell back before Burgoyne’s advance. The
story went that she was engaged and about to be married to an
officer in Burgoyne’s army. Falling into the hands of the Indians, she
was murdered with purposeless, savage fury, and the tale of the
outrage, embellished with horrors, was spread far and wide through
the land. Colonists hitherto inclined to the loyal cause, felt that their
homes and womenkind would not be safe, if they awaited the coming
of the English and their savage allies: the opponents of England
found additional justification for the stand which they had taken up;
the sympathizers with the American cause in England were given a
new text for denouncing the war; and Burgoyne lost Indian support
by taking steps to prevent a recurrence of such enormities.
The second misfortune which happened—a most grave misfortune
—was an unsuccessful expedition in the direction of Bennington.
Bennington is in the state of Vermont, to the south- The expedition to
east of Fort Edward, lying about twenty-four miles due Bennington.
east of the stretch of the Hudson river, between Saratoga on the
north and the confluence of the Mohawk on the south, which was
known as Stillwater. It is in the forks of the two streams which
combine to form the Hoosick river, a tributary of the Hudson, flowing
into the main river from the east. Burgoyne’s Objects aimed at
information was to the effect, quoting his own words, by the expedition.
that it was ‘the great deposit of corn, flour, and store cattle’, intended
for the use of the Congress troops, which he designed to secure for
his own army in view of the difficulty and delay experienced in
bringing up supplies from Canada. The German general, Riedesel,
seems to have originally suggested such an expedition, from
knowledge gained while he was stationed at Castleton. He was
anxious to obtain horses to mount his men and to carry the baggage;
there was evidence of a considerable Loyalist element in the
population, and little reason to apprehend strong opposition from the
colonial militia. Above all Burgoyne had constantly in his mind the
object of threatening the New England states: and, having by this
time received intelligence that St. Leger was before Fort Stanwix, he
wished to make a diversion to the east, in order to prevent
reinforcements being sent up the Mohawk river to the relief of that
post. The instructions which he issued for the expedition show that
he contemplated that the detached force, if things went well, would
penetrate far beyond Bennington, up to the Connecticut river, and
possibly not rejoin the main army until the latter had reached Albany.
About 500 men, according to his dispatch, were Strength and
detailed for the enterprise, but the number appears to composition
force.
of the

have been larger.[141] It was a mixed body. There was

a strong contingent of Germans, chiefly dismounted dragoons, ill
suited for a cross-country march, and there were also picked
marksmen from the British regiments, Canadians, provincials, and
about 100 Indians. Out of compliment to Riedesel, the command
was given to Colonel Baum, one of his officers, and in Colonel Baum in
selecting German troops for the expedition, Burgoyne command.
marked his appreciation of the good service which those regiments
had rendered in following up the retreat of the Americans from
Ticonderoga. The starting-point was the Batten Kill stream, running
into the Hudson on its eastern side, ten miles lower down than Fort
Edward. From this point to Bennington, by the route which Baum
was finally instructed to take, was a distance of under thirty miles.
The advance guard of Burgoyne’s army had already been moved
down the Hudson to the Batten Kill, and, on the 14th of August, after
Baum had started, they were thrown across the main river a little
higher up under the command of General Fraser, and moved forward
on the western bank as far as Saratoga, with the object of a further
advance to Stillwater in the event of Baum’s expedition proving
successful. The temporary bridge of rafts, however, by which they
had crossed, being carried away, the troops were recalled and
passed back in boats to the eastern side.
Baum started from the Batten Kill early on the morning of the 13th
of August, reached a place called Cambridge in the afternoon of that
day, and on the following day arrived at Sancoick Mill near the
confluence of the two branches of the Hoosick river, about four miles
short of Bennington. There he found that the enemy in front of him
were more numerous than had been anticipated, and he sent back to
Burgoyne for reinforcements. Colonel Breyman, Reinforcements
another German officer, was dispatched to his support sent under Colonel
Breyman.
with nearly 700 men: he started early on the morning
of the 15th, but, owing to the difficulties of the route, and want of
horses and forage, he made slow way, and was far short of Baum
when evening came. On the 16th a number of men, as from the
country side, came to where Baum was encamped: Baum’s force
they were taken to be friends and Loyalists, and made surprised
up.
and cut

their way within his lines. On a sudden, while

beginning to move forward,[142] he found himself attacked on all
sides: the component parts of his little force were separated from
each other, and only the German soldiers held together, fighting
bravely, as long as they had powder left, and then vainly
endeavouring to cut their way out with their swords. The end was
inevitable. The Indians dispersed in the woods: some of the British
contingent with their commander, Captain Frazer, escaped, and so
did a good many of the Canadians and provincials: but Baum was
mortally wounded, and nearly all of his Brunswickers Baum mortally
were killed or captured. On the afternoon of the same wounded.
day, ignorant of what had happened, Breyman’s force was coming
up and was in turn suddenly attacked. Again the men Breyman attacked
fought hard until their ammunition gave out, and and forced to
retreat with heavy
eventually the main body made good their retreat, loss.
though they suffered heavy losses and had to leave
their guns behind. John Stark was the leader of the Americans in
these hard fought engagements.
The immediate result of the fighting was the loss to Consequences of
the English of over 500 men and four guns,[143] and the disaster.
the total failure of the expedition. The ultimate effect was much more
serious. Burgoyne’s small army was still further reduced: his hope of
securing supplies and horses from the surrounding country was
entirely gone; his expectation of Loyalist support, upon which the
English had counted, was shown to be groundless; the chance of
facilitating the main operations by a successful diversion was lost;
the enemy were put in good heart; and such fickle allies as the
Indians were further alienated. The enterprise was subsequently
made the subject of much hostile criticism, and blame was variously
assigned. Burgoyne considered that the failure was due to the fact
that Baum had not taken up a position in the open in accordance
with instructions, to the chance co-operation of bodies of the enemy
who happened to be near, and to undue slowness on Breyman’s
part. The truth seems to have been that the expedition was not badly
conceived, but imperfect knowledge of the country and faulty
intelligence as to the enemy’s strength and movements in this, as in
many similar cases, procured disaster.[144]
Burgoyne’s anxiety as to the future was expressed Burgoyne’s views
in a private letter which he wrote to Germain on the on the situation.
20th of August, accompanying the public dispatch of the same date
in which he reported the failure of the Bennington expedition. He
wrote that, in spite of St. Leger’s victory, Fort Stanwix was holding
out obstinately, that no operation had been taken in his favour, and
that the American forces under Gates in his front had been
strengthened and now outnumbered his own. Only one letter had
reached him from Sir William Howe. That letter was written from New
York on the 17th of July, and in it Howe stated that he had heard of
Burgoyne’s victory at Ticonderoga, adding ‘My intention is for
Pennsylvania, where I expect to meet Washington, but if he goes to
the northward contrary to my expectations and you can keep him at
bay, be assured I shall soon be after him to relieve you’. As has been
already stated, no instructions from Germain had reached Howe on
the subject of Burgoyne and his army, though he had received from
Carleton a copy of Germain’s dispatch of March 26th, 1777, in which
the programme of the expedition from Canada had been detailed.
Situated as Burgoyne was, knowing that further advance would
entail cutting of his communications with Ticonderoga, it is no
wonder that in his letter to Germain he wrote that, had he latitude in
his orders, he would have thought it his duty to remain where he was
encamped opposite Saratoga, or further back at Fort Edward where
his communications would be secure, until events in other quarters
facilitated a forward movement. But his instructions were ‘to force a
junction with Sir William Howe’, or at any rate to make his way to
Albany; and, as he sadly wrote, when the catastrophe was over and
he was a prisoner, ‘The expedition I commanded was evidently
meant at first to be hazarded. Circumstances might require it should
be devoted.’ A very strong man in his position would have taken the
responsibility of temporary retreat, but, good soldier as he was, he
was not a commanding character. He knew the power which
Germain possessed of making and unmaking men, he had before
his eyes the harsh treatment of Carleton, because Carleton had
exercised wise discretion in falling back from Crown Point in the
preceding autumn. His instructions freed him from responsibility if he
went forward, the blame would be his alone if he fell back. The evil
influence of Germain blighted loyal commanders and soldiers in
America. George the Third’s system was working itself out, and the
British Empire was being sacrificed to the ‘King’s Friends’.
The first necessity was to bring up supplies from Lake George for
the further advance, enough to last for twenty-five to thirty days,
inasmuch as crossing the Hudson and moving south meant the loss
of communication with Canada. This Burgoyne anticipated, and his
apprehensions proved true. Shortly after he crossed the Hudson and
began his southward march, a force of colonists, Burgoyne’s
assembling at Skenesborough, on the 18th of communications attacked by the
September attacked the British garrisons at colonists.
Ticonderoga and Mount Independence. They were
repulsed after four or five days’ fighting, but not until they had taken
outposts at the saw-mills, Mount Hope, and Sugar Hill, captured
three companies of British soldiers, and taken or destroyed a large
amount of stores and a number of boats. Retreating up Lake
George, they attacked a detachment on an island in the lake named
Diamond Island and, though they were again beaten off, their
operations served the purpose of making Burgoyne’s
communications utterly insecure.[145]
From the 16th of August to the 13th of September, the British army
remained on the eastern bank of the Hudson over against Saratoga.
The reinforcements which joined them apparently amounted to only
300 men. News seems to have reached the army, before they
moved onward, that St. Leger was retreating from Fort Stanwix, so
that hope of co-operation in the direction of the Mohawk river was at
an end; on the other hand there was a possibility that St. Leger’s
men, brought down the St. Lawrence and up Lake Champlain and
Lake George, might be able to join the main force. It is not clear what
was the exact number of men who crossed the Hudson under
Burgoyne’s command. According to the evidence given at the
subsequent Parliamentary inquiry, the regulars, British and German,
were rather short of 5,000 men, but, if the Canadians and provincials
were included, the total fighting force must have reached 6,000.
From Fort Edward to Albany is a distance of over forty miles and to
the confluence of the Mohawk river about thirty-four; but Burgoyne
was already encamped ten miles south of Fort Edward and the
Americans, who had previously fallen back to what was known as
the Half Moon at the mouth of the Mohawk river, after The Americans
the British defeat at Sancoick Mills and the relief of under Gates take
up a position at
Fort Stanwix, moved up the Hudson a little way above Bemus’ Heights.
Stillwater, and took up a strong position on high
ground called Bemus’ Heights, where they were within ten miles’
distance of the point where Burgoyne crossed the river.
General Philip Schuyler had been in command of the Congress
troops on the side of Canada. He was a man of the highest
character, and apparently a perfectly competent soldier, whose
Fabian tactics were beginning to achieve success when he was
superseded. After the abandonment of Ticonderoga and the rout
which followed, the tide of public opinion set against him—without
any adequate reason. The New Englanders were jealous of a
general from New York state; and, under a resolution of Congress,
Schuyler was in the middle of August replaced by Horatio Gates, a
godson of Horace Walpole, who, like Richard Montgomery, had been
born in the United Kingdom and had served in the British army,
having been badly wounded in Braddock’s disastrous expedition.
Gates, who in the previous year had commanded the garrison at
Ticonderoga, was a self-seeking, intriguing man. His subsequent
disloyalty to Washington, and his defeat at Camden, clouded what
reputation he gained through receiving Burgoyne’s surrender. When
he took over the command of the troops opposing Burgoyne, his task
was comparatively easy. He had good men with him, among others
Arnold, who had returned from the march to relieve Fort Stanwix and
between whom and Gates there was no love lost, he had also Daniel
Morgan and Lincoln; while the army under their command had
received an accession to its numbers in consequence of Howe
having moved off from New York to Philadelphia. The Americans
now largely outnumbered Burgoyne’s force, and behind them, lower
down the Hudson, the Highlands were held against a possible
movement on the part of Clinton, who commanded the troops left
behind at New York when Howe sailed for Chesapeake Bay.
About six miles below Fort Edward, between that Burgoyne crosses
fort and the Batten Kill stream, at a place named Fort the Hudson and
advances South.
Miller, there were rapids in the Hudson, where a
portage was necessary for the boats descending the river; below it
navigation was unimpeded, and the stores and baggage of the army
could be carried by water. A bridge of boats was thrown over the
river about half a mile above the Batten Kill, and by this bridge the
whole army crossed the Hudson on the 13th and 14th of September
from the eastern to the western shore. Burgoyne was subsequently
criticized for crossing, but the criticism had no sound foundation. If
he was to reach Albany at all, he must cross the river at some point
or other, and the further he went down stream the more difficult the
crossing was likely to be. Moreover the high road ran along the
western bank, while on the opposite shore swamp and mountain
would have made it impossible at certain points to march close to the
river bank, and the army would therefore have been separated from
the boats. On the western side of the Hudson the country, through
which the troops advanced, was wooded and broken, the road and
bridges over the intervening creeks had been cut up by the enemy,
and progress was slow; but by the 17th less than four miles
intervened between the two armies. On the 18th there was
skirmishing, while the British force were repairing bridges and cutting
a way through the bush: and on the 19th a general action took place.
The British army advanced in three divisions. On the Action of
right under General Fraser were the 24th Regiment, September 19.
the light infantry and the grenadiers, accompanied by Indian and
Canadian scouts and supported by some German troops under
Colonel Breyman. The centre column, entirely composed of British
regiments, was under Burgoyne’s immediate command. The left
wing was in charge of Riedesel, and included the main body of the
German soldiers with most of the artillery. The left marched along the
high road on the lowland following the course of the river, and one
British regiment, the 47th, on the bank of the river, guarded the boats
which carried the stores. There was a deep ravine between the
armies, and Fraser’s division made a wide circuit to the right in order
to keep on the high ground. The movement was successfully carried
out, and Fraser established himself in a strong position while the
centre column moved forward, crossed the ravine, formed on the
other side, and bearing to the right became engaged with the enemy.
The centre of the battle was a clearing in the woods, where there
was a homestead known as Freeman’s farm; from this farm the
Americans had molested Burgoyne’s advance, and being dislodged
by artillery fell back into the cover behind. Their intention had been to
turn the British right, but, finding that Fraser was too strongly posted,
they counter-marched and placed their full force in front of the centre
column. Here the battle was fought, and for four hours, from three
o’clock in the afternoon till seven, the brunt of the fighting fell upon
three British regiments, the 20th, the 21st and the 62nd, a fourth
regiment, the 9th, being held in reserve. Some help came from
Fraser’s men, but the safety of the army depended upon his holding
his ground on the right, so that he could not bring up his whole
division in support of the centre. Constantly reinforced and covered
by the woods, the Americans, led by Arnold, who commanded the
left wing of their army, pressed hard upon the fighting regiments,
until, late in the day, Riedesel, having pushed forward his troops
along the line of the river, wheeled them sharp to the right and struck
in on the flank. This decided the battle, and, as darkness fell, the
forces of the Congress drew off, leaving Burgoyne’s army in
possession of the field.
The fight was won, but, as Burgoyne wrote in his Result of the fight—
subsequent dispatch, ‘it was soon found that no fruits, Burgoyne’s losses.
honour excepted, were attained by the preceding victory.’ He had
lost about 500 men, the 62nd Regiment having especially suffered,
and though the losses of the Americans had possibly been heavier,
reinforcements were available for them and their position grew
stronger and stronger. On the day after the battle the English moved
forward slightly until they were almost within cannon shot of their
enemies, at a distance of about half a mile, and in turn threw up
entrenchments. On the 21st Burgoyne received a message from
Clinton, dated the 12th, to the effect that in about ten Message from
days’ time he intended to move up the Hudson and Clinton.
attack the American forts in the Highlands. Burgoyne sent back
word, urging the necessity of some such operation in his favour in
order to divert part of the American force which was barring his way,
and he stated that he would hold his ground if possible, till the 12th
of October. The days went on: provisions began to run Scarcity of
short: on the 3rd of October it was found necessary to provisions.
reduce the soldiers’ rations: and, some movement having become
inevitable, Burgoyne determined on the 7th to make a Further movement
reconnaissance on the enemy’s left—the side furthest necessary.
removed from the Hudson, in order definitely to ascertain whether
there was a possibility of either forcing a passage or at any rate so
far dislodging the enemy as to enable the British army to retreat
unmolested. At the same time it was hoped that under cover of the
reconnaissance, forage, badly needed, might be collected for the
horses.
Only about 1,500 regular soldiers were available for Action of October
the movement, with ten pieces of artillery: and, small 7.
as the number was, hardly enough men were left behind to guard the
lines. The detachment advanced, and was formed within about
three-quarters of a mile of the enemy’s left, waiting for some of the
marksmen with Canadians and Indians to make a detour through the
woods still further to the right and take the enemy in the rear. On a
sudden the Americans in superior numbers made a determined
attack on the left wing of the little force, where were the grenadiers
and a German regiment. At the same time the flank of the right wing
was in imminent danger of being turned: and, while the troops on this
side were being drawn back and reformed in order to secure the
retreat, the Americans redoubled the attack on the grenadiers and
the Germans. The German regiment gave way, the grenadiers were
overpowered, and complete disaster was averted only by the stanch
fighting of the gunners and by bringing up supports The English heavily
from the right under General Fraser who, in carrying defeated and their
corps partly taken.
out the movement, was mortally wounded. Hard
pressed and heavily defeated, leaving six guns behind them, the
force regained their lines, but the Americans, who fought with
conspicuous boldness and resolution, followed on, broke through the
entrenchments, and eventually stormed the post in the rear of the
right which was held by Colonel Breyman and the scanty German
reserve. The position was taken, but night came on, Arnold who had
led the fight was wounded, and the Congress troops drew off,
content with the success which they had already gained. Under
cover of the same night Burgoyne fell back, and took up a new
position on high ground in the rear of his former camp.[146]
Up to this point in the campaign General Burgoyne may have
made mistakes, but at any rate he had not shown himself to be
either irresolute or incompetent. He had been sent to achieve the
impossible: he had loyally attempted to carry out his instructions,
even when opposed to his own views; and, bearing in mind the small
number of his troops and the difficulty of securing provisions and
supplies, it is not easy to find ground for criticism Burgoyne’s fatal
either in his delays or in his fighting. But now his duty delay.
was clear, to retreat at once on Fort Edward and save the remnant of
the expedition. Every hour was of importance, for every hour
numbers greater than his own, emboldened by success, were
gathering round him and threatening his retreat. The position in
which he was placed after the battle of the 7th of October was no
doubt one of great difficulty, but at any rate there was only one
practical course to be taken, and a firm resolute man, intent only on
the public good, would have taken it at once. Burgoyne acted
otherwise, his movements were leisurely and almost invited the final
catastrophe. Reading the account of what took place, and his own
defence, it is difficult to resist the conclusion that the personal
element was strong in him, that there was a theatrical strain in his
character, and that he was concerned with public opinion and effect,
instead of simply gripping the nettle in manful fashion, neglecting no
chance, and fighting out hard to the last.[147]
All day on the 8th the army remained in their new position offering
battle, and burying General Fraser with the honour due to a brave
and much loved man, while parties of the enemy crossed the
Hudson, and fired on the British camp from the opposite side. A day
was lost, the Americans were beginning to turn the Beginning of the
right or inland flank, and on the night of the 8th the retreat.
retreat began, the wounded being left behind in hospital. The
weather was bad, the baggage encumbered the army, it was
necessary to guard the boats on the river, yet the distance to be
traversed to Fort Edward was less than twenty miles and a hurried
retreat would have saved the army. When the morning of the 9th
came, however, Burgoyne called a halt for his wearied men, and
through the greater part of that day no further movement was made.
Late in the afternoon the march was resumed, when darkness came,
the troops passed through Saratoga and crossed the Fish Kill
stream, and on the morning of the 10th the artillery was brought
over. Meanwhile the Americans had pressed forward up the eastern
bank of the Hudson, and, when the British troops neared Saratoga,
they found a party of the enemy already in front of them on the
western side, who were beginning to throw up entrenchments, but
withdrew as the British came up, leaving the road still open for
retreat. On the 10th some troops were sent forward by Burgoyne to
hold the ford opposite Fort Edward and to cover the work of repairing
the bridges, but were recalled when the main American force
attacked the rear of the British army on the line of the Fish Kill. The
boats could now no longer be adequately defended Loss of the boats.
against the American guns, the provisions were taken
out of them, and they drifted into the enemy’s hands. Burgoyne’s
irresolution.