The Race: The Race Series, #1

By Joan De La Haye

Experience the electrifying thrill of survival in "The Race," the heart-pounding first instalment of Joan De La Haye's gripping series. Follow Joanna Perry, an unsuspecting victim thrust into a world where life hangs in the balance, as she embarks on an unimaginable journey.

When Joanna's life takes a terrifying turn, she finds herself drugged, violently abducted and forced into a deadly contest for the entertainment of the world's elite. With her own survival on the line, she must confront her limits in a twisted game orchestrated by the rich and depraved.

As the stakes reach unprecedented heights, Joanna must tap into her inner strength and navigate treacherous terrain where each step could be her last. Will she embrace her newfound ferocity and outsmart her merciless adversaries, or will she succumb to the darkness that surrounds her?

"The Race" delivers an adrenaline-fueled narrative that will leave readers breathless. With its breakneck pace and relentless action, this quick read is a perfect fit for fans of pulse-pounding tales like "The Hunger Games," "Gladiator," and "The Running Man." Brace yourself for a rollercoaster ride of danger, courage, and the fight for freedom.

Enter a world where survival is the ultimate triumph, where glory exacts a deadly cost, and the race for Joanna's life, glory, and gold brook no mercy. Get ready for an adventure that will keep you on the edge of your seat until the very last page.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joan De La Haye
• Release date: Sep 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533735676

Joan De La Haye

Joan De La Haye writes horror, dark fantasy and some very twisted thrillers. She invariably wakes up in the middle of the night because she's figured out yet another freaky way to mess with her already screwed-up characters. You can stalk Joan on her website: www.joandelahaye.com

Book preview

The Race

Book One

By

Joan De La Haye

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 by Joan De La Haye

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise).

www.joandelahaye.com

Cover art by Joan De La Haye and Monique Snyman

1st Edition October 2016

Also by Joan De La Haye

Stand-Alone Books:

Requiem in E Sharp

Fury

Oasis

Burning

The Diabolical Series:

Shadows

The Veil

The Oubliette

The Eternally Cursed Chronicles

Bound by Betrayal

Short Story Collections:

Sliced and Diced

Sliced and Diced 2

Sliced and Diced 3

The Race Series:

Training Days

Besieged

Retribution

Consequence

The Patron

Table of Contents

Title Page

Also by Joan De La Haye

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

Be a Freaky Darling

Training Days

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Shadows

Requiem in E Sharp

Fury

Oasis

Burning

Sliced and Diced

Sliced and Diced 2

Sliced and Diced 3

Bound by Betrayal

1

I

wasn’t wearing my own clothes.

A headache pulsated through my brain, reminding me of the time that bastard, Jake Stanton, roofied my drink at a club a couple of years ago. The unpleasant memory of waking up in my car in the middle of an empty parking garage, naked and alone, made an unwelcome appearance. Jake had left a note saying: Thanks for the memories, stuck to my bare breast.

I found him a few nights later trying to pull the same shit on another girl. I guess I could have called the cops, but then I, and my past mistakes and issues with authority, would have been put on trial, not Jake. My way was so much better and far more satisfying.

I made him drink the girl’s drugged wine with my flick knife pressed against his crotch. I waited for the drug to take effect and then had my fun. He woke up naked, tied to a tree, and with a big, pink, plastic dildo shoved up his arse. Apparently, he had difficulty walking for a week or so, but he never drugged another girl after that. The girl I helped didn’t even bother to say thank you. Gratitude seems to be something that not many people feel anymore. I wasn’t expecting her to name her first kid after me, but a simple thank you would have been nice.  

But this time was different and more confusing. I woke up in a cell with twenty other women, wearing a baby-pink tracksuit with a zip-up top and hoodie, and running shoes that didn’t belong to me. They fitted well enough, and they smelt new, but there was no way in hell I would ever willingly wear pink anything. My cell phone, car keys, wallet, and flick knife were all gone.

Bastards!

The distinct briny smell of the sea drifted up my nostrils, which was impossible since I didn’t live anywhere near the ocean. In fact, the nearest ocean was about a day’s drive from my home—if I drove really fast. The cell walls were slightly damp and had that salty smell you only get when you’re at the coast. My tongue was also thick from dehydration and whatever drugs they’d given me.

Some other women, locked in another cell, looked as though they’d escaped from a Xena convention. They looked like bodybuilders, with those fake dark tans that were supposed to show off their overdeveloped muscles. From the looks of them and the way they flexed their muscles, they’d had a few too many testosterone injections.

The rest of the women in my cell were dressed in similar tracksuits to mine, they also looked as confused as I felt. The fear on their faces made me a whole lot more nervous than I’m used to being.

The warrior women flexed their muscles some more, did push-ups, or gave intimidating stares to the scared women in tracksuits. They seemed to be pumping themselves up for something. The Xena wannabes also had swords of varying types. I wondered if they’d been at some costume party, except the swords looked a little too real and a little too sharp for cosplay.

No one spoke.

I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d managed to get myself locked up in the local drunk tank.