Defying Destiny: Divine Destiny

By Sharon René

In 2042, twenty-year-old Sierra Stone leads a group of Irish rebels in an attempt to stop Hunter and River Wallis from conquering the planet. With her rebel forces severely outnumbered and unable to match the Wallis' weaponry, country after county falls to the powerful brother-and-sister duo, but Ireland refuses to surrender. Until Sierra is captured by the enemy. 

 

Imprisoned in an ancient castle, Sierra faces the biggest challenges of her life. River Wallis wants her dead, and Hunter wants to win her heart. She knows how to fight River, but her battle skills prove useless against Hunter's charm. Now, Sierra must decide if she's fighting for her personal freedom or for world peace. No matter what choice she makes, one thing is certain—for the first time ever, the Irish rebel may face defeat.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anaiah Press
• Release date: Oct 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9781954189454

Book preview

Chapter

One

GERMANY, APRIL 2042

Avengeful shriek sounded from the castle parlor. Hunter Wallis shook his head. He was all too familiar with his sister’s rants. His best friend, Garrick, stood beside him, and they exchanged resigned glances. Hunter opened the door.

Watch out! Hunter yelled and ducked as a figurine flew across the room, hit the wall, and crashed to the floor. Sparkling bits of ivory, blue, and green porcelain spread over the marble. Hunter glanced behind him. Garrick had also avoided the flying shrapnel.

Leo Erickson, owner of this ancient piece of real estate, stood at the other end of the room, a safe distance from Hunter’s calm and captivating sister.

Leo, what did you do to make River mad this time? he asked.

Leo grinned and shook his head, his unruly mop of blond hair falling in his eyes.

River spun around, put down the glass trinket she held in her hand, and glared at Hunter. He almost laughed. Did she really think she could frighten him? He’d grown used to her moods and volatile temper.

She shook her finger at him, her diamond rings glowing in the chandelier’s pale light. Tease all you want, brother dear. I have a right to be angry. That witch, Sierra Stone, is at it again. She motioned to a small computer sitting on a pedestal table at the end of the sofa.

Hunter and Garrick walked to the table while Leo plopped down on the sofa and kicked off his shoes. Hunter grabbed the small computer. The lace table topper clung to the machine, and he crushed it in his fist. Too much finery in this place. Dropping the lace to the floor, he glanced at the screen. What has gotten you so upset?

River squinted and pointed to the monitor. Watch and see.

On the screen, the rebel leader, Sierra Stone, called out to a large crowd of misfits over the roar of the ocean and shriek of seabirds. Aged men, so—called soldiers dressed in rags, and a band of teenagers comprised the fearsome Irish Brigade. Hunter chuckled.

Winning is wonderful, and you are the best fighters in the land! the woman shouted from the top of a shiny boulder.

A camouflage scarf encircled her forehead, and long brown hair tumbled past her shoulders. The Irish Brigade will never give up. She waved her arms with each word. Hunter Wallis will never rule us.

No warts, no wrinkles, or hook nose. Nothing witch-like about her.

Today, God granted us a great victory. The enemy outnumbers us, but they can’t outfight us. They want to conquer and destroy. They fight for wealth and power, but we fight for our homes, families, and freedom. Hate drives Hunter and River Wallis, but we have heart. Sierra put her hand over her chest. Hunter has taken most of Europe for his Collective. He will not take the British Isles. Not while the Irish rebels live. We will not be defeated. Even if takes our last breath—we will win!

Hunter glanced at Garrick. His face showed no emotion, but his jaw twitched, revealing his anger with this female rebel.

Hunter looked at River. Why does this woman anger you so badly?

Listen to her. She clenched her fists, her face red and jaw tight. Sierra Stone will never be ruled by Hunter Wallis. Ha! Someday, I will make her bow to you and beg for mercy.

Hunter laughed and patted River on the cheek. You are too angry and emotional. No one is going to bow to me, except maybe Leo here. Hunter slapped Leo’s legs off the sofa and plopped down beside him, tossing the computer to the side.

Leo saluted. Yes, sire, anything you say.

River put her hands on her hips, her body poised for a fight. This is not a game. That ragged bunch won the battle at Dublin because of her.

Not true. Hunter slammed his fist on the couch’s velvet arm. They won because we were outnumbered. Somehow, they knew when to attack.

His blood surged through his veins when he thought of his troops disheartening loss. Hunter didn’t often lose, and he didn’t like it. He had already conquered half of Europe, and his reputation was spreading.

Perhaps the rebels had planted a mole in their ranks or had a great computer hacker. No hacker or mole could give Sierra Stone ultimate victory. Her luck couldn’t last. The next time his forces encountered the Irish Brigade—the Irish would die.

Sierra Stone is a troublemaker, and we have to destroy her, River said.

Hunter glanced around the stuffy room. Large stone fireplace, beveled windows, a baby grand piano, and an abundance of breakable trinkets. How many of those items would still be in one piece when River moved out of the castle? He almost laughed, but this moldy old place gave him the creeps.

Why do you like this castle, River? It’s drafty, dull, and full of bad memories, he asked, hoping to get his sister to shut up about Sierra Stone.

A slight smile curved River’s lips, and her face softened. It’s beautiful. You shouldn’t criticize Leo’s home.

No offense taken. Leo shrugged one shoulder. I’ve never cared much for this old place either. Leo’s face lost its usual playful expression. Especially after… after Nicolette.

Hunter’s pulse quickened, and beads of sweat wet his brow. Eleven years ago, at this castle, he and Leo had been outside playing at combat when they heard Nicolette’s screams. Piercing screams that haunted his nightmares. Leo still mourned the loss of his little sister.

Nicolette died a long time ago. River’s voice caught in her throat, and tears glistened in her eyes. She loved this castle. I feel close to her when I’m here.

Hunter stood and pulled River close. Nicolette’s death had been devastating for all of them, but River had suffered more than anyone. The details of the accident were never clear, but River had been beside Nicolette when she fell from the tower, and her screams had blended with those of the helpless girl.

Soon, the terrible rumors started as people blamed River for Nicolette’s death. Hunter learned how cruel humans could be. How could they accuse an eleven-year-old of an unthinkable act when she had just lost her best friend?

He patted his twin on the back, his arms still wrapped securely around her. Let’s put those sad memories behind us and look forward to a great future.

River’s body tensed, and she stepped out of his arms. She gestured to the computer lying sideways on the sofa, a frozen image of Sierra Stone staring back at them. We will never have the future we deserve unless we destroy that woman.

Hunter glanced from River’s angry face to Sierra Stone’s determined one. He respected his sister’s opinion and valued her battle acumen, but she hated her enemies and never offered mercy.

Try as he might, Hunter couldn’t turn away from Sierra’s golden eyes. Why did the Irish crowds flock to this young woman? Did her charisma, intelligence, or beauty attract them? Her face was too square, her figure too thin. Not a classic beauty, but she possessed a magic that drew the people like a mythical siren. He shook his head. No. He would not allow a pretty smile to stop his dream of a mighty European Collective.

He’d always believed an all-powerful God watched from heaven. God desired order on the planet, and Hunter was the only leader capable of forging a great new world. Surely, heaven supported him. He prayed that God would put an end to Sierra Stone before he had to.

Howth, Ireland

The rebel crowd cheered loudly, their voices mingling with the ocean’s roar. Men kissed their wives, and young people danced across the shoreline. Sierra let out a deep breath and jumped from the boulder, her boots sinking in the sand.

Waylon, her second in command, stepped away from the fighters and headed toward her, his gait brisk and confident, his red-gold hair glinting in the sunlight. Slapping his dusty hat against his leg, a tired smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

He squared his wide shoulders, splitting the jagged tear across the top of his dirty shirt, and stretched out his arm. Your triumphant rebels are home and happy, General.

Why do they insist on calling me general? I’m a twenty-year-old girl with a big voice and a stubborn nature.

She reached for the man’s hand, but he grasped her shoulders and pulled her close. Her muscles tensed beneath his fingers, but she forced herself to step into his embrace. He’d won a great battle. He deserved her affection and gratitude. She wrapped her arms around him and patted his sweaty back.

Good job, Waylon. What would we do without you? Her face burned, and she stepped back then bit her bottom lip.

What a stupid fool I am.

Waylon wanted more from her than she could give. He would take any compliment as encouragement. She respected him as a fellow soldier and an honorable man. She admired his battle skill, but her heart didn’t pound when he was near, and she didn’t tremble in his embrace.

What I mean to say is… you are a great commander.

Waylon shifted from side to side and studied the shore. I lead great fighters, but you are their inspiration.

She shook her head. No. I don’t deserve any credit. You’re the military genius. Without you…

Waylon glanced over his shoulder at several women climbing the grassy path leading to the row of tiny houses on the cliff’s edge. We brought back five injured men. Dark circles deepened the blue of his eyes. They should all survive. Unfortunately, twelve died. I knew all twelve by name. Waylon bowed his head. Today hurt worse than most.

Sierra wanted to comfort him. Wasn’t she the one who spoke the words that ignited rebellion and drove farmers to leave their homes and fight beside her? But now—words would not come.

Sierra placed her hand over her heart, its beat thumping against her fingers as the women’s cries and sniffles reached her ears. Thank heaven the death toll wasn’t worse, she said.

Her gaze traveled to a blonde woman toting a baby on her hip and patting a little boy on the head. Donovan’s wife. The boy’s breathless sobs pierced Sierra’s soul. Donovan had been an excellent fighter and up and coming leader. Why did he have to die?

You can't win a war without death. Waylon’s deep voice cracked. The men and women on the battlefield realized the chance they were taking.

I know that, but—

Waylon grabbed her trembling hand and squeezed. His touch comforted her and stopped the shaking. We killed many of Hunter’s soldiers. We won the battle.

This time, she whispered. Hunter has most of Europe with him. Only the British Isles and Italy stand in his way. We can’t defeat him alone. It’s not possible.

We don't have to. History is full of underdogs who won. Waylon crushed her fingers in his tight grip. We have to tire him and deplete his resources. Soon, he’ll decide that Europe is enough for his grand collective and leave the British Isles in peace.

She pulled her hand from Waylon’s grasp and brushed her windblown hair out of her face. If only she could believe Waylon’s words. This victory should give her confidence but… Grit covered her skin, and she tasted salt on her lips. We wouldn’t have been the victors if we’d faced the entire Parisian brigade instead of a smaller unit.

Waylon nodded. How did you know Hunter hadn’t sent reinforcements to Dublin yet?

I happen to be friends with an excellent computer master. Sierra grinned when she thought of her childhood friend, Cimarron Butler. Young, blonde, and so innocent no one would believe her incredible hacking skills. Cimarron hacked into one of Hunter’s computer systems and discovered his troop movements.

Where is this Cimarron located? Waylon asked.

She works at my Uncle Shamus’s computer factory in my hometown.

We could use her in the fields with us, he said. She could get info to us easier. No more traveling miles for midnight meetings.

Sierra’s stomach flipped. No doubt, having Cimarron traveling with the resistance would be helpful, and Sierra would enjoy Cimarron’s company, but could she put her best friend’s life in danger? Sierra worried every time she sent her troops into battle, and her heart broke at the needless deaths. Concern for Cimarron’s safety would no doubt cloud her judgment.

Cimarron is only eighteen. She’s sweet and girly. I don’t think she’s tough enough to join us.

Waylon scratched his stubble-covered chin. These are tough times, and we all have to do whatever it takes to survive. You should ask her to join us. She might surprise you.

Yep. Cimarron joining this group would be a big surprise.

I’ll ask her, but I already know the answer.

Shouts continued from the shore where men had rolled up their jeans and now waded into the turquoise sea. Female soldiers sat on boulders and combed their freshly washed hair. Seagulls circled while boys dug for crabs and older men fished.

Corporal Davis rushed toward them, holding a document. Sand flew in all directions with each slap of his shoes. His brow wrinkled, and a deep frown marred his face. The young man stopped and caught his breath before passing the paper to Sierra. A message from your parents.

The world grew dark as if the setting sun had crashed into the sea. The pounding of Sierra’s heart against her ribs was the only sound she heard as she clutched the note between shaky fingers. Her family had never written before. Why start now?

Chapter

Two

TWO DAYS LATER

Sierra took a deep breath and stared at the small wooden cottage encircled by a shabby stone wall covered in ivy. The house sat nestled between the loving branches of two holly trees, still casually existing as if the world hadn’t imploded. Home. She rubbed her jean’s pocket. The pocket that held Mom’s letter.

Dear Sierra, please visit soon. I’m worried about your father. He’s so depressed since losing his job. Talking nonsense about joining you at the front.

Love, Mom

Sierra hadn’t been home for over nine months. Nine months of slogging through mud, fighting alongside the British rebels in England. Together, the British and Irish troops had pushed Hunter’s brigade back into Wales and halted his overthrow of England. Sierra and her soldiers returned to Ireland victorious, but the Parisian band rallied, crossed the Celtic Sea, and met them at Dublin.

Thanks to Cimarron’s intel, and Waylon’s battle skills, the Irish had won a decisive battle several days ago. Sierra fingered her necklace. A thin metal piece about the size of a playing card dangled against her chest. Uncle Shamus and Cimarron had developed the gadget so Sierra could text a short message to Cimarron’s computer whenever she needed to enlist Cimarron’s skills. Last week, she and Cimarron had met about thirty miles from here, so Cimarron could give her the vital information about Hunter’s troop strength.

A freak storm had ravaged the area recently, preventing Cimarron from getting the information to her via electronic means, but Sierra hadn’t minded their clandestine meeting. She relished any opportunity to get together with her best friend.

The loud creak of the cottage door opening grabbed Sierra’s attention. A girl stepped out, her auburn hair shining in the sun. That couldn’t be her sister, Brianna. She’d grown at least an inch, and her childlike shape now revealed a few womanly curves. The girl tossed her long hair behind her shoulder, and her gaze fell on Sierra.

Sierra, you’ve come home, Brianna shouted as she jumped off the porch and ran down the cobblestone path.

The girl barreled into Sierra’s arms, causing Sierra’s foot to hit a broken stone. She stumbled back before catching her balance. Whoa, you’re about to knock me over, lass. Sierra laughed, holding Brianna tightly. I survive bloody battles, and my little sister tries to kill me.

Brianna’s smile brightened her porcelain complexion, while her emerald eyes watered. I missed you so much. She grabbed Sierra’s hand and tugged her down the path. Mom, Dad, Sierra’s home!

The faded wooden door scratched across the floor as Sierra and Brianna stepped inside the cabin. Mom stood by a worn floral sofa covered by a pile of clean clothes. She dropped the green towel she’d been holding and rushed to Sierra.

Her mother clutched her arms and pulled her close. Sierra rested her chin on the top of her mother’s head. Memories of running to Mom when she’d skinned her knee, the smell of freshly baked scones and long-ago lullabies overwhelmed Sierra.

Tears flowed down her mother’s cheeks, wetting Sierra’s blouse. Thank the Good Lord you’re safe and well. We’ve been so worried.

Sierra stepped back, still holding onto her mother. Didn’t Cimarron tell you we met last week?

Aye, she told us, but with the life you lead, anything can happen in a week.

Sierra grinned, but guilt attacked her for worrying her parents. That is a true statement.

Home still smelled like fresh linen, wildflowers, and Mom’s lavender fragrance. Sierra glanced from the woman to the stone fireplace in the corner of the small room. Her gaze traveled to the flimsy throw rug and Dad’s worn but cherished burgundy recliner. How’s Dad?

He’s out back tending his vegetable garden. Sadness creased the corner of her mother’s hazel eyes. The constant struggle is taking a toll on him, especially since he lost his job. He tries so hard to keep us safe and well fed.

Sierra shook her head. Cimarron told me the factory went out of business. Honestly, I was amazed they managed to keep it going this long.

Over the years, her parents had been forced to watch their comfortable world fall apart. The potato blight struck Ireland hard, and famine ravaged the entire planet. Then, the pandemics came. The world population dropped by a fourth in the first ten years of Sierra’s life.

Mom smoothed her apron and took a deep breath. Your father is so depressed. Not going to church and talking nonsense about joining your fighters. Mom paused, tears bubbling. I know he’s still young enough to fight, but Brianna and I need him here. Sierra, you’ve always been his heart, so if you talk to him…

Don’t worry, Mom. I won’t let him join my rebels.

Sierra’s flesh tingled as Mom squeezed her arm. Your father will be thrilled to see you. Go out and surprise him.

After kissing her mother’s cheek, Sierra headed out the back door. Her father was on his knees digging weeds from the small patch of potatoes and sugar beets. She walked softly across the freshly mown grass, the clean scent tickling her nose, her movements as quiet as a soldier on patrol.

Hello, Daddy.

Dad’s shoulders twitched. He tossed his spade to the side, hunkered back on his knees, and stared at her, his expression intense. He opened his mouth then popped it shut again. Didn’t he recognize her? She couldn’t have changed that much in nine months.

Praise sweet Jesus. My girl is home. He jumped to his feet, opening his arms wide.

Sierra rushed into his embrace. The scents of fresh earth and sweat surrounded him, and she gripped him tighter, afraid that he would vanish as he always did in her dreams. After a moment, her blurry vision cleared. She stepped back and stared up at his strong, ruddy face.

Dad removed his old ball cap, his red hair glistening in the sun, and wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his gloved hand. So how are you fairing, my little soldier girl? The skin around his eyes crinkled with his grin.

The Irish brigade is doing great, Sierra said. We beat Hunter’s troops at Dublin.

I heard, and I’m so proud. He slapped the cap against his thigh and peered down at his dirty boots. A magpie sang a mournful love song from the nearest tree. I think I’ll head back with you when you go. Not much else for me to do here.

How can you say that? Mom and Brianna need you.

Dad bowed his head and kicked a clod of dirt. They say that, but your mom is a strong woman. She can tend a garden and provide for Brianna as well as I can.

There’s a lot more involved than raising a garden. She glanced over her shoulder to make certain Brianna hadn’t followed her. I don’t talk like this in front of Mom and Bri, because I don’t want to scare them, but if the rebels fall, Hunter’s troops will swarm all over Ireland. Mom and Bri will need you to protect them.

Her father met her gaze and held it. Anger, fear, desperation all flickered across his face in an instant. Oh, sweetheart. He stroked the side of her face. The rebels are not going to fall. Tears glistened in his green eyes. Eyes like Brianna’s—as deep as the lush Irish countryside. But you’re right. I can’t desert my girls.

Sierra punched him on the shoulder. And don’t you forget it. Those two are mighty important to me.

No doubt, losing his job had brought out the solider in her father. He’d never mentioned joining her troops before. She’d never allow him to go into battle. Sierra couldn’t imagine life without Dad, Mom, and Brianna. Was placing her family and friends above her soldiers selfish? She really didn’t care. Coming home to find them safe and well was the only thing that kept her sane.

Chapter

Three

Sierra stepped into Uncle Shamus’s computer factory and glanced around. She kept a tight hold on Brianna’s arm to make certain she didn’t dash off into danger. Years of battle had made Sierra jumpier than a rabbit surrounded by a pack of wolves.

A vacant reception desk stood inside the metal door with a sign instructing visitors to ring the bell for assistance. There hadn’t been a rush to buy computers in the last few tumultuous years, so a full-time receptionist was no longer necessary.

Still clinging to Brianna, Sierra stepped past the desk and into the long, narrow factory. Two men stood at a worktable to the left, computer components scattered before them. Several functioning computers, each whirring and humming, occupied a desk on the right.

Sierra, you’re cutting off my circulation. Brianna twisted her arm in Sierra’s strong grip. There’s Uncle Shamus. She pointed and then ran to her uncle.

There’s my girl. The burly man with a mop of red curls smoothed the top of Brianna’s head and pinched her cheek. His gaze traveled to Sierra. Mercy me, both of my girls are here. He stretched out his arms, and Sierra stepped into his welcome embrace.

Isn’t it wonderful, Uncle Shamus? Sierra came to see us.

But I can’t stay long, Sierra warned with a playful tug on Brianna’s ponytail. Brianna always cried when she left. Sierra’s heart broke every time she left Brianna, but she had to go. The troops needed her.

Oh, my word, Cimarron squealed from the other end of the factory. I thought I was seeing things. She ran across the concrete floor, grabbed Sierra tightly, and crushed her in her arms. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. But I’m glad you’re here.

Sierra laughed. She’d seen Cimarron only last week. She couldn’t imagine the raucous greeting she would have received if they’d been separated for months. How she missed her daily dose of Cimarron—girly, silly, fun.

Uncle Shamus, do you mind if Cimarron takes a break so we can have a little girl talk?

You go right ahead. I have tea and homemade scones in my office. I’m heading home for lunch, so you girls help yourself.

Sierra stood on tiptoes and kissed her uncle’s cheek, scratchy with a growing beard. Thanks. Tell Aunt Ruth that Mom wants you both to come for dinner tonight.

Will do. See you later, my lovely girls. He squeezed Brianna’s shoulder and patted Sierra’s cheek before leaving.

Cimarron turned to Sierra, her lips twisted in a frown. What’s up? Since when do you and I girl talk?

Since now. Sierra grabbed Cimarron’s arm and propelled her toward Uncle Shamus’s office.

In the small office, Cimarron took a seat in the old-fashioned roller chair behind the cluttered desk. Sierra and Brianna claimed the torn leather sofa. Brianna snuggled close to Sierra. A tray of cookies sat temptingly in the middle of the desk. Sierra recognized Aunt Ruth’s special chocolate cookie recipe. Her aunt could do wonders with just a few ingredients.

So, what do you want to talk about? Cimarron asked just as Sierra grabbed a cookie and chomped down.

Sierra swallowed, then shoved the rest of the cookie in her mouth, happy to put off the conversation a little longer. After swallowing her last bite, she wiped her lips with a paper napkin, relishing the simple niceties in life. She didn’t want to drag her innocent friend