I Was Born Ruined (Death by Daybreak MC #1)

by C.M. Stunich

day—I can't remember when—I woke up and realized it. My protectors, my family, they were the monsters. And their protection came with a hefty price.

My protectors, my family, they were the monsters. And their protection came with a hefty price.

I'm sin and she's salvation, that's why we work.

I'm not sure that I'm afraid of anything, not anymore. That's what growing up around monsters will do to ya.

I'm not sure that I believe in God, but I sure as shit believe in the devil. I've seen him, him and his demons. And they all ride in Cat's motorcycle club: Death by Daybreak MC.

Cats are some of the most efficient hunters on the planet, taking down a wide variety of prey … and also, everyone knows that well-fed housecats kill for fun. Toy with their prey, play with it, torture it before they kill it.

Crown is my father's right hand, the vice president of Death by Daybreak.

all six foot five of him cloaked in black leather and bullshit.

Sin, Grainger, and Beast, three more of my father's officers. Road captain, sergeant-at-arms, and enforcer respectively.

Beast. Born Catcher Coffey—isn't that a great name?—in Nashville, Tennessee, the man's a former MMA champion turned Death by Daybreak henchman. He's tall, wide, muscular, and covered in tattoos and piercings. Like, model for GQ level bad boy. One half of his head is buzzed short, the rest of his dirty blonde hair combed over to one side. With the beard, the nose ring, and the massive black and red eclipse tattoo on his right arm, he looks like a fucking beast.

He looks at the three of us like he'd die to protect us. At first, I thought that was just because he was a part of the club; it was his job to make sure the vice president's kids were okay. Later, I realized it was because he had a sister once upon a time … and that he didn't anymore.

Grainger curls his fingers around the back of my neck and draws me in close, each fingertip burning a small brand into my skin. That's one of the things that drove me crazy about him before, how possessive he is. I both loved and hated it. “I want to fucking kiss you,” he says, and then, “I'm going to goddamn fucking kiss you.”

He steps into the room and stares at me like I'm both a treat and a treasure, a nightmare and an open wound. What am I supposed to make of that?

It wasn’t just two spirits that were put into the icy ground that day. No, it was all three of us.

“If you touch her,” Grainger says, his voice tinged with malignant intent, “I will end you.”

“If Cat ever gives his blessing, it’s gonna be a battle royale,” he drawls in that thick Southern accent of his.

I might’ve been born ruined, but I don’t have to die that way.

I feel like I've just been given a wake-up call from the universe. If you stay put, you will drown.