They say there are defining points in your life – moments where you f**ked it all up, moments that make you its bitch, moments that shape you into the person you are.
The day I met Braxton Ward was one of my moments.
My name’s Melissa Hart, and I don’t think you’re ready for this story.
I go by a few names: Hella, Brax, 112, or, depending on whether I’ve been balls deep in you or not, C*nt. I don’t push the boundaries because in order to do so, one must have them. I’ve never had them. Being homeless at the not-so-tender age of fifteen morphed me into an emotionless shell, and when The Army recruited me, that shell turned into steel.
They say if fire is hot enough, it can melt steel; the hate that burns between Melissa Hart and me just might be hot enough.
Shit doesn’t come easy for us. Enemies are expanded, secrets are revealed, and lives will be taken. Yeah, I’m Braxton “Hella” Ward, and you bet your f*cking ass that you ain’t ready for this story.