Justice Ascending

Chapter One

by

Rebecca Zanetti

Of course! Here’s your excerpt shaped into a **proper manuscript format** — polished and organized according to typical submission standards:

—

# THE DARKNESS

by [Author Name]

—

**Chapter One**

The darkness doesn’t just stare back… it moves forward, opens its mouth, and swallows you whole.
—Tace Justice

Tace Justice read the last depressing line on the page and growled, tossing the journal across the room. It landed with a thud, the cover flipping shut to reveal Hello Kitty smiling up at him. Jesus. Paper was scarce, but Doc could’ve found a different notebook when she’d ordered him to start journaling. Like his descent into madness really needed to be chronicled by a happy cartoon cat.

He glanced around his dismal apartment in Vanguard headquarters. Worn beige bedspread. Tan couch. Ripped brown linoleum that smelled like… well, nothing. Hell, it probably smelled bad, but he’d lost his sense of smell. If he wasn’t crazy already, the entire room would have depressed the shit out of him. Bare, dingy walls, painted white decades ago. Should he get some art to brighten the place up? Why bother.

Standing, he stretched, wincing as fresh bruises screamed to life. Hours earlier, they’d returned from a brutal battle up north, rescuing two of their own. His adrenaline had ebbed, but his mind still spun. No way could he sleep.

A tremor started in his right foot. He paused, taking note. The vibration traveled up past his knee until he had to balance on his other leg. Damn it. Not another tremor. Breathing slowly, he waited for the strength to return. Annoyance burned through him. What the hell was wrong with him?

His bed was empty. He needed to burn off some energy. Midnight meant the gym would be deserted, so he deserted the crappy apartment, leaving the door unlocked. If anyone wanted to steal his ugly bedspread, they could have it.

The quiet hallway leading to the elite Vanguard soldiers’ quarters was dark and silent. Apparently, anyone planning on getting some already had and was now recuperating.

At the stairwell, he descended to the vestibule, glancing briefly at the adjacent soup kitchen. No sounds. Deserted. He pivoted sharply, taking two stairs at a time to the basement gym.

“What are you doing up?” a female voice asked.

He stopped cold. Sami Steel was stretching on a blue gym mat, her dark hair piled high atop her head, her fit body clad in tight yoga pants and a tank top. Bruises marred her slim jaw from the earlier fight, and a purpling lump swelled on her wrist.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said, his body waking up completely. He hadn’t realized how sluggish he’d felt until now. “You?”

She breathed in, her chest rising enticingly. “Too keyed up from the fight earlier.”

“I’m with you.” They should both have been wiped out, but here they were. “We’re strange.”

She grinned, cute lines crinkling by her soft brown eyes. “Anybody who survived Scorpius is weird, if you ask me.”

He nodded. The Scorpius bacterium had wiped out most of humanity. Survivors weren’t quite human anymore—stronger, faster, meaner, crazier. He still wasn’t sure where he landed on the spectrum, but sociopathic was a safe bet.

“You fought well earlier,” he said.

“Thanks. Although, I did notice you covering my back more than necessary. I can kick your ass, remember?”

True. She had been kicking his ass for months. Raised by a father who owned a karate studio and an uncle who ran a street-fighting organization, fighting was in her blood. Still… lately, he’d been holding back with her.

“You are tough, now, aren’t you?” he drawled.

Something in his tone made her lower her chin. “You wanna go a round?” she murmured.

His cock stirred. Damn. He should’ve looked up the woman he’d been sleeping with lately, but the gym had called to him more than sex. A bad sign. Worse, lately, he kept seeing Sami’s face even when another woman moved naked beneath him. That could not happen. Sami had a delicacy he’d destroy if he wasn’t careful.

“Nah,” he said, letting his Texas drawl roll free. “I don’t wanna fight.”

“Chicken,” she teased, standing to stretch her arm across her chest.

He swallowed hard. “I, ah, was trying to journal and got frustrated.”

Sami rolled her eyes. “Doc told me to start journaling too. Said it would be good for the brain and a record of us rebuilding civilization.”

“You’ve been keeping a diary?” he asked.

“No,” Sami shot back—way too fast.

Lie. Interesting. Tace might not smell anymore, but he could sure as shit sense a lie. His chest heated. Fine to call him a chicken, but lie to him?

“Why the hell are you so secretive?” he snapped.

“I’m not,” she said, voice firm. Another lie.

“You might want to watch yourself, sweetheart,” he warned. “Reading lies is a new skill for many survivors.”

Her upper lip curled. “The day I need advice from you, Justice, I’ll be sure to ask nicely.”

The urge to sink his teeth into that lip almost overcame him. He took a step back. Professional. Stay professional.

“You sure you don’t wanna go a round?” she asked again, widening her stance.

He shook his head. “I don’t think you want my hands on you right now.”

She blinked. “Oh, you are asking for a beating.”

Challenge and arrogance shivered between them. Before he thought better of it, he moved. Grabbing her, he pinned her ass to the wall.

She gasped, feet dangling, but recovered fast. A chop to his neck made him see stars. In a blink, she had him flat on his back, straddling his abdomen, hands poised at his throat.

“Tap out,” she ordered.

Once, he would’ve obeyed. But darkness reigned now.

“No,” he growled.

Sweeping her arms away, he rolled them both over, pinning her beneath him.

“I’m done tapping out.”

Sami’s shoulders hit the mat a second before her butt landed. Instinct and a lifetime of training took over. She struck out, landing a solid blow to Tace’s throat. His head jerked back, and she rolled away, springing to her feet.

“What the fuck?” she gasped, breath puffing out in short bursts. How had he gotten to her so fast?

Tace angled to the left, his movements fluid, gaze locked on her legs. “Gloves are off, baby. Get ready to have your ass kicked.”

Tingles flared through her abdomen. He moved with the deadly grace of a panther, every step sure, every stance aggressive. Tace and aggressive with a woman? They didn’t go together.

“What is wrong with you?” she asked, keeping him firmly in her sights.

He chuckled low, the sound both pissed and frustrated. “We don’t have that kind of time, darlin’.”

Darlin’. She swallowed hard, ignoring the way his sexy drawl curled down her spine. He’d used endearments before, but always with brotherly fondness. This tone caught her breath, shot lava through her veins.

Bad. So bad.

Her penchant for bad boys had wrecked her life before—never again. They had to remain colleagues, friends at best.

“You’ve lost your mind,” she muttered.

“No doubt about that.” He feinted in and out, light on his feet.

Sami lifted her chin, setting her stance. “I guess the good ole boy needs a lesson,” she said, mimicking the thickest Texas drawl she could muster, fighting to stay calm.

His upper lip quirked, just a flicker. “One of us is learning a lesson tonight.”

Fine. He’d asked for it.

She inventoried him quickly: clear eyes, fluid movements, absolute focus. The earlier fight hadn’t drained him at all. He towered over her—six-four, easy—with cut muscles and raw strength. She’d have to take him to the mat to win, use her brain and her mouth too.

“If you’re feeling frisky, why not call on the doctor you were screwing? Or the second-squad soldier you’ve been banging all week?” she taunted.

If he moved just an inch to the left…

Tace shifted right, loose and relaxed. “Both were casual. And they aren’t gonna work out.”

“Oh?” She slid to the left, not letting herself care about his relationships ending. When he was with someone else, he was safely out of reach.

“Why isn’t it working out with the inner-city doctor?”

He lifted a broad shoulder. “We agreed on just fuckin’. I’m getting bored. Angie wants more.”

An ankle shot could take him down—but she couldn’t put him out of commission.

“Love, huh?”

“No. A good beating.”

Sami stilled. “What?”

He shrugged. “She likes it rough. I’ve enjoyed smacking her ass, but I can’t bring myself to use a whip. She wants it to cut deep.”

Sami took a step back, erasing the image from her mind. Heat rushed to her cheeks. “She’s a masochist?”

“Guess so.”

“But you’re not a sadist.”

Why were they talking about sex?

“Guess not,” he said, rubbing his chin, his gaze sweeping her body. “Though the right woman could probably talk me into it.”

“Whoa.” She held up a hand, her skin prickling where his gaze had landed. “I do not want to be whipped.”

Triumph lit his darkening eyes. “Who said I was talking about you?”

Her mouth snapped shut. She sucked in a breath. “Fine. Then how about Barbara? You seemed happy with her this past week.”

He shrugged. “We agreed on no commitments.” His brow lifted. “I’d ask about your love life, but you haven’t been seeing anybody. Don’t you miss sex?”

“Who says I haven’t been having sex?” she countered.

Before he could respond, she moved—punched him hard in the gut and swept left. He bent with a muffled oof, and she kicked for his shoulder.

“You’ve been celibate. I’ve watched.”

Tace twisted, catching her foot before she could connect. What the hell? She hopped back, full fight-or-flight instinct roaring through her. He’d never moved that fast before.

He laughed low and shoved her foot higher, knocking her off-balance. She hit the mat hard, air whooshing from her lungs—and he was on her.

Mouth open, she froze.

Tace straddled her, hands manacling her biceps, pinning her to the mat. His face hovered just above hers.

She blinked. His deep blue eyes had always fascinated her—like the Texas sky—but now, a dark, almost black rim circled his irises. New.

“Tap out,” he whispered, voice gritty.

Oh, he didn’t know her at all.

She went limp, faking surrender. His lips started to curve into a smile.

Using her butt as a fulcrum, she rolled her hips, shoved off her shoulders, and yanked her knees up beneath his arms. With all her strength, she kicked—squarely where his arms met his shoulders.

The shock ricocheted through her. He toppled back, and she rolled into a backward somersault, springing to her feet.

Adrenaline sizzled. Blood stirred. Her body, hyperaware, locked onto him.

Tace stood, stretching his shoulder, smiling—but not kindly. “That’s relief in your pretty eyes, Samantha.”

“Ha. That’s boredom,” she snapped, heart pounding.

“Mm.” He rubbed his shoulder. “Originally, I just wanted to blow off some steam.”

He shifted forward a foot, already in stance, way too calm.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. Then I wanted to win. Make you tap out. But this…” His chin dropped, eyes narrowing on her knees. “This isn’t just about tapping out anymore, is it?”

The look in his eyes stole her breath. She shook out her hands to distract him, but his focus didn’t shift.

“What more is there?” Her voice barely escaped.

He inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring like a wolf catching a scent. “You’re wondering. You and me—just once.”

She stiffened, then relaxed—preparing. How did he know that?

“Not even close.”

His grin was pure predator. “Liar.”

Heat crawled up her cheeks. Focus. Stay calm. Stay cold.

“Maybe you’re just crazy now.”

“Could be.”

He moved, and she countered—but he hooked an arm around her waist and took her down effortlessly.

She struck out, but he straddled her again, this time pinning her tighter, groin firm against her abdomen, elbows tucked in to neutralize her legs.

Tace leaned down, his breath a caress against her lips. “The fact that you could kick my ass kept you feeling all nice and safe, didn’t it?”

Danger prickled along her skin.

His grip was absolute, but she stayed still. Waiting.

“You don’t want a man you can beat,” he said, voice low. “Biology, darlin’. Especially now that civilization’s dead.”

“Old-fashioned?” she muttered, trying not to shiver.

“Oh yeah. Little girl, big Hispanic family, raised by street fighters? You’re old-fashioned.”

“My mama was Hispanic, but with a name like Steel? I’m part Scot too,” she ground out.

“No wonder that temper is so glorious,” he said, voice a purr.

Images of him over her—different, wild images—flashed unwanted in her mind.

He smiled. “I appreciate the old-fashioned part. But I like the wildness in you even more.”

His voice was a rasp that stole her breath. Her nipples tightened painfully against her tank top.

Enough.

She let the fury loose.

“Do you now?”

“Oh yeah. I just hadn’t realized it needed taming.”

He leaned down, brushing his lips over hers.

The old her might have yielded.

Not this time.

She sank her teeth into his bottom lip, sharp and brutal.

He jerked back, eyes dark. A growl rumbled from deep in his chest.

Slowly, keeping her pinned, he licked a dot of blood from his lip. “Stop challenging me,” he said softly. “Because I’m what’s left.“

Her heart raced so fast it hurt.

“Meaning?”

“Tap out.” He leaned closer, heat rolling off him, stealing the air between them. “And remember one thing.”

“What’s that?” she whispered.

He nipped her lip.

“I bite back.”

Desire speared through her, edged with a dangerous blade. For the first time since Scorpius hit, since she’d landed at Vanguard, Samantha Steel tapped out.

---

International

back to Top