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THE CARNAGE

RinaKaif
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Synopsis
Stella Monroe is a rocket scientist who creates a rocket that allows her to travel to Mars in only a couple of hours. After she comes back from her experimental journey, she discovers that the world had turned upside down. War. Massacre. The Carnage. She was an alluring cynosure, a charming brainiac. Not a frontline warrior. Fate decided to deceive her once again when she met him. Her demon. Her deepest desire. Her damnation. ————— Damon Claxton is the chief commander of Zone-D32. It was already decided that he would continue to follow his father's legacy the day he was born. He was trained to serve the United Assemblies since he was a toddler. He could do anything to be victorious, even if he had to slaughter half of mankind. War. Massacre. The Carnage. He was the anti-hero, the villain. War was his life and his ultimate fixation. Until he met her. His starlight. His sacred obsession. His salvation. Theirs is a love so twisted that it could tear apart the world... or save it. ● TRIGGER WARNING: This book is rated 16+ but it includes graphic references that may trigger some audiences such as mass murder, mature language, violence, gore, childhood trauma, sexual assault, suicidal tendencies, gun violence, imprisonment, torture, leads with f-ed up morals, and finally, morally grey men. ● AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you are looking for some heroic green flags, this book is not for you. Damon Claxton, by all means, is a morally grey villain who does not hesitate to burn the world for his starlight.

Table of contents

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Chapter 1 - 1. Stella

"Fuck you, Brody."

I cursed into the microphone as I, once again, didn't receive any response from my Land Director. How was I supposed to do this when he didn't respond to any of my signals for the last 14 hours? What if I got lost? I went to space for fuck's sake, not a Caribbean Carnival parade having people dressed in devil's attire or what Brody says, 'Diablos Cojuelos'.

Well, fuck him for being an absolute jerk of a friend.

Now I'm pissed. I remembered installing a radio transmitter in my spacecraft. Did they forget me or something? How the hell could an administration with more than a hundred thousand employees forget their head rocket scientist? Who, by the way, also was the reason that they crossed NASA and went to number 1 in the world charts.

Someone- sorry, many are getting fired today.

I decided to land at my saved location from where I launched my rocket and checked if it was appropriate for landing.

Crystal clear.

I pushed my rocket out of orbit as I deployed the parachutes, preparing myself for landing. I slowed my rocket for a safe landing as I lowered its steel legs.

My 7 years of continuous mental breakdowns didn't go to waste after all. Mars was definitely what I had expected, dry and bland. The human race would turn into unethical aliens the minute they went there but those discoveries were already made.

All I cared about was that now, this baby of mine could take me to any planet in the solar system as fast as possible. Building a rocket that could take you to another planet within a few hours was a hard nut to crack but oh well.

What can I say? I'm a genius.

After landing safely, I got up from my seat, turned around and pushed the switch that opened the exit stairs. I took off my helmet as I thought about how many more galaxies I could discover if I extended my research and focused more on special relativity instead of general relativity.

Maybe if I can find out a way to increase the acceleration even further, it could trigger the time dilation. I also need to work on the exterior to make it speed-resilient.

But before all that, I needed a spa session, a manicure, and a 12-hour beauty sleep. After I dropped by Tim and Tori's for those fluffy lemonade scones that is. I needed some me-time after the 21 hours of artificial food and a sucky toilet. I probably stinked underneath this space suit and I could kill for a bubble bath right now. And don't even get me started about my hair. These auburn beauties needed some pampering after—

All my thoughts and movements came to a halt as I looked at the sight infront of me. I was midway down the stairs, one foot on the next step, hands still on either side, looking wide-eyed at the hundreds of men uniformed in black pointing their military guns at me as dozens of military trucks and tanks surround my rocket.

"Put your hands behind your head and slowly come down the steps," one of the men barked his orders at me as I stilled, questioning my life decisions. When did I sign up for this again?

When I didn't budge, he recoiled his gun, pointed it in my direction, and raised his voice, "Hands behind your head or it will be my bullet replacing them!"

Now I regreted not peeing in that sucky toilet 3 hours ago. At least it didn't threaten to kill me. It would suck for a pretty brainiac like me to go to waste so I didn't hesitate and did what he said. On my way down, I spotted him saying something to a walkie-talkie, his gaze still fixed on my petite figure. Actually, all their eyes are on me. As if I am an alien who came from Mars or something.

Okay, I did come from Mars but I'm not a fucking alien. Aliens aren't charming.

Just when I am struggling to decide between sweet-talking myself out of this situation or turning around and rushing back into the rocket, a military tank arrives at the scene and stops a few feet away from me. The driver's hatchet opens revealing another man who opens the side door.

A tall bulky man comes out of the door as all the others align and salute him. He is also clothed in all black but unlike others, he wears a cap instead of a helmet and has a several badges and silver stars adorned on his chest.

His cold gaze met mine and my lungs started malfunctioning. Those eyes. Those stormy grey eyes looked deep into my soul as he stalked toward me.

Breathe.

He pressed his lips in a thin line as a muscle twitched near his sharp jawline.

Breathe, Stella.

His Adam's apple moved up and down in his neck ever so slowly as he swallowed.

That was sexy.

BREATHE, STELLA!

I swallowed as I realized only a few inches remained between us and I could see all the details of his perfectly sculptured face. He was awfully, brutally, breathtakingly handsome. I couldn't spot a single flaw when I was sure that he might have noticed those dark circles under my eyes, or maybe even a pimple or two. I suddenly felt too concious of myself.

Out of habit— a very bad habit— my gaze drifted down, below his waist to his dark pants. Oh Boy.

He probably had all the hot chicks swooning over him, dying to get laid.

Damn.

I didn't realize that I voiced that last thought out aloud because when I looked up, all the other men stare at me, wide-eyed. Heat creeped up my neck as Mr. Handsome-Big-D-energy raised one of his eyebrows at me, as something dark flashed in his metal eyes. He masked his expression almost instantly, and stepped even closer.

"Stella Grace Monrose," he said in his deep raspy voice. Did my name just sound sexy or did I just lose my last two braincells as well? My answer is, both. "I have been expecting you."

I'm lost in the smell of pine needles and sandalwood before my brain decides to spare me a braincell and I realise something.

"Y-you know me?"

Did I just stutter? Great. Now my voice isn't voicing either. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I could swear that I saw him slightly lift a corner of his lips before something prickled on the side of my neck and black dots surrounded my vision.

The next thing I could decipher was being lifted and laid down on a soft surface. I heard the sound of an engine starting followed by small vibrations beneath me before I became completely unconcious.