Apocalys, p.1
Apocalys, page 1
APOCALYS
BOOK #1 of The Apocalys Empire Series
V. Rivière
APOCALYS
COPYRIGHT © 2023 BY V. RIVIÈRE
The French Code of Intellectual and Artistic Property authorizes, under the terms of paragraphs 2 and 3 of Article L.122-5, on one hand, only the “copies or reproductions strictly reserved for the private use of the copyist and not intended for a collective use” and, on the other hand, only the analyzes and the short quotations with an aim of example and illustration, “any representation or reproduction in whole or in part, made without the consent of the author or his successors in title or assigns, are prohibited” (subparagraph 1 of the article L. 122-4).
This representation or reproduction, by any means whatsoever, would therefore constitute an infringement punishable by articles L. 335-2 and following of the Intellectual Property Code.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are used fictitiously and are a product of the author’s imagination.
Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, events or places is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-2-9587309-0-1
AUTHOR NOTE
This book is the first installment of “The Apocalys Empire” series. As the story progresses, you will get potential clues about future books, hence the multiple POVs.
You should also be aware that the book ends with a cliffhanger.
Below is a list of triggers found in this novel. I suggest you go through them if you feel the need. If not, skip to the prologue and enjoy!
TRIGGER WARNING
Mental health is a central theme in certain characters’ narratives. I want you to know that some chapters contain discussions on this topic. For your own safety, don’t move forward if you are having trouble with this type of reading. My words are not meant to cause any distress.
Suicidal thoughts, mentions of animal cruelty, self-harm in various forms, depression, eating disorders, mentions of rape.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Author Note & Trigger Warning
PART I — Lick, Burn, Kiss, and Cry.
Prologue — Pain.
Chapter 1 — Lust.
Chapter 2 — The Strategist.
Chapter 3 — The Strategist.
Chapter 4 — Le Chevalier Noir.
Chapter 5 — Fire.
Chapitre Bonus — Le Chevalier Noir.
Chapter 6 — Fire.
Chapter 7 — Le Chevalier Noir.
Chapter 8 — Fire.
Chapter 9 — Love.
Chapter 10 — Pain.
Chapter 11 — Pain.
Chapter 12 — Fire.
Chapter 13 — Fire.
Chapter 14 — Fire.
Chapter 15 — Lust.
Chapter 16 — Lust.
Chapter 17 — Le Chevalier Noir.
Chapter 18 — Pain.
Chapter 19 — Fire.
Ch4pitre B0nus — Le Chevalier Noir.
Chapter 20 — Edge.
Chapter 21 — Lust.
Chapter 22 — The Strategist.
Chapter 23 — Fire.
PART II — One Hell of a Ride.
Chapter 24 — Love.
Chapter 25 — Love.
Chapter 26 — Love.
Chapter 27 — The Fire Starter and Le Chevalier Noir.
Chapter 28 — Fire.
Chapter 29 — The Strategist.
Chapter 30 — Love.
Chapter 31 — Pain.
Chapter 32 — Love.
Chapter 33 — Fire.
Chapter 34 — Lust.
Epilogue — Le Chevalier Noir.
Chapter -1 — Temptation.
(Preview of An Empire of Maddness)
Acknowledgments
About The Apocalypse Empire Series
About the Author
Frost.
I was twelve when I realized that my life was going to be one hell of a ride. Money wouldn’t buy happiness and pain would be the only staple in my existence.
So did my friends.
We were all born and raised in Frost. The same metropolis where it seems that the country’s greatest fortunes have settled. Our little bubble where gated communities and micro-societies were the norm.
It wasn’t about who got the first car, the best grades, or the most conquests; but rather the biggest houses, the most bodyguards, and the shittiest personality.
On an individual level, all families thought they were important and original. It’s easy enough to undermine the most powerful when you think you’re safe. Hiding behind money, fame, and all.
In this little world, four of us stand out from the rest.
It’s hard to remember a time when they weren’t beside me—we had shared the same cradle from the moment we were born.
As expected, the girls and I were the most popular in school. We had to be if we were to follow in our parents’ footsteps.
Back then, out of the three others, I felt like Emma was the most likely to be the one who would break our group in the future.
Emma was such an adorable little thing with an angelic smile. Hard to focus on how her father, Peter Williams, inherited their generational wealth from the 1800s, when you have such a fairy-like creature in front of you.
We had nothing in common from an external viewpoint.
Elena and Victoria are too... captivating, mesmerizing even.
They were mysterious, but not always in a good way.
Although she was the shy, quiet one, Emma was always meeting new people, always smiling. Loving the attention, she was the school’s sweetheart. After all, she’s worked hard for this status. She has a certain talent to mold her personality to fit the standards. It should be scary to know that someone could modify the way they speak to match who’s in front of them, but most had no idea what was happening in her head.
People envied our constant closeness to her, not me, not Victoria, and definitely not Elena.
She was a monster in their eyes.
Where Emma was seen as the innocent baby, Elena was the burning fire. People genuinely hate her and her family. Daughter of the second biggest asshole on earth, my father’s best friend: Michael Carson.
I could throw up at the mere mention of his name. That’s the kind of feeling people get when they’re in the same room with him. A tall guy with sharp teeth and questionable beliefs. For him, nothing is more precious than guns and money.
I’m not even sure women are in his top ten. Nothing more than a warm hole to fuck.
Holy shit, that man is such a piece of trash.
If we were to give out an untouchable family award, we might have a winner. The Carsons are without a doubt the epitome of the very worst the United States has to offer.
I couldn’t tell you what people despised more: Elena or her family. Since fifty-fifty seems fair, I would say that it goes more like hundred-hundred, which doesn’t make sense, like most of what’s going on in our group.
They love to hate her, and she loves to hate. She doesn’t need people’s friendship. She welcomes the bitchy reputation that people have labeled her with, if that’s going to stop them from talking to her.
Sometimes I wonder, with her pyro tendencies, if she would be capable of burning her enemies. Not her family’s. She doesn’t care that much about them, but I know she would go beyond what’s legal to protect us. It’s as much as I would do for them.
Elena’s personality can be summed up in two words: anger and fire.
But we also have to talk about Victoria. This woman is a walking deadly sin. Worse, people can’t even look her in the eye without feeling a ridiculous amount of horniness.
She’s not dangerous.
She’s a fucking red flag. A true opportunist, she’d do anything to get a piece of the cake. Anything at all. Easy to do when you play both sides.
Power and dominance. That should be her damn motto.
She was raised by a tough self-made entrepreneur. One look into her mother’s eyes to see where Victoria gets her act from.
Except, her daughter is tenfold what Catherine ever wishes to be.
Me? I was the destructive one. The less visible I was, the better. On a good day, I would spend maybe an hour in class and, somehow, not get sent home.
Much to my mother’s disappointment, I wasn’t the perfect girly doll she had hoped to have. Her standards for me were so high, they were unattainable.
Yes, back then, Emma was clearly the best of us.
Inseparable since birth, we all lived next to each other. Growing up like that, it has always been just us four. No one could get between us.
Our relationship goes beyond friends, beyond even sisters. It has always been more than that. In a way, we also raised each other. To be on top, not seeing our families was a required sacrifice everyone made.
I guess that’s what shaped us, and most likely what destroyed our sense of what was right and what was wrong.
Apparently, a child builds a personality through their parents first, their school second, and peers third. For us, it was our environment first, then we adapted to each other like perfect puzzle pieces.
We all gave our contribution to this quartet.
Elena brought determination, anger, and a need to prove herself as a woman; she was the fire. Emma brought passion, obsessional love, family, and perfectionism; she was the romantic one. Victoria brought seduction, possessiveness, and the art of manipulation through pleasure; she was lust. And I brought strength, attention to detail, and resistance; I was pain.
Long gone are the days when we had to settle for the poor stage of high school.
We needed more than that. We needed to build our own future, independent of our parents.
By the time I was eighteen, I had decided to join the army, a decision that was not well thought out. I didn’t even tell anyone until I knew if I was accepted or not. I didn’t expect much. Probably a letter saying I wasn’t fit enough or something, really, but certainly not being rejected because I’m mentally unstable for fuck’s sake.
I still remember Elena laughing at my face when I told them. This night was the first time I stole a car. Of course, she burned it afterward—for the handprints, apparently.
Soon after, each of us went to college.
Naturally, Victoria, Emma, and I chose business school, while Elena chose politics. She thought that maybe she could have the same degree as her mother and would need some education on manipulating citizens—her words—to begin with.
We killed it with a whopping total of two years. All of us left mid-semester. That shit was boring as hell.
I didn’t want to learn about different styles of management; I wanted to know how to exploit people and get away with it.
So, three years ago, we were all twenty, no diplomas, no predetermined path, but we had a shit-ton of money.
That’s when Queen Victoria had an idea.
The tricky part was to make it work without blowing everything on our first try.
It all started one night when we all gathered in a deserted warehouse in the suburbs of Frost. Throughout the night, we built this insane plan. I cannot tell if it was good or not—most of us were completely drunk.
Still, we were able to agree on the fundamentals of creating something bigger than any of our families had ever made. Something lasting, something much more powerful.
In theory, each of us would have a purpose. On paper, it sounded weird and impossible, but the idea was there nonetheless.
I mean, we must pray if we want results, right?
For one hysterical minute, when the liquor was coming out of her nose, Emma decided we needed names. The adorable baby wanted to add a little something to the mix. In reality, I think she just wanted a cool name for herself. For the first time in her life, she has decided to be the bad girl. Like that: I became “Tearie”; Victoria is obviously “Luxuria”; Elena is “Fyra”, and Emma uses the alias “Romana”.
Our company would first put a foot into the racing industry. My contacts in street racing made that the easiest and most accessible avenue at that moment.
From there, we would move forward in baby steps, so as not to be overwhelmed by circumstances too quickly. Later, we would need weapons, men, and buildings.
Our roles would be simple: Victoria in command, Emma in charge of the arsenal—shocking, I know—since it would be too risky to let Elena go up against her father. We didn’t want war. Even with our brains floating in a pool of vodka, we weren’t that stupid. On my side, I would take care of our defenses and recruitment. I would be the enforcer in a way.
I needed my hands dirty and bloody.
Finally, Elena would bring our organization to the government. She was our bridge to untouchability. Once we have that, we’ll have the world.
Everything was working pretty well at first, if not for the fact that we agreed to make Vic our leader, which pissed Elena off because she receives orders from no one, you fucking dictator.
So now, we have kind of have a two-headed business with one being a dumbass-pyromaniac woman with anger issues and the other a sassy-sex-addict mommy.
The road to hell had never been so entertaining.
New York City, 4 Years Ago.
I love the feel of the soft natural fibers on my skin. It makes me feel luxurious and elegant. The hours spent shopping in New York to find the perfect dress for tonight were worth it. The beautiful silk fabric lightly hugs my skin without being too restrictive. The straps are so thin that they accentuate the neckline, where I wear my expensive pearl-and-diamond necklace. A gift from my much older date.
From what I remember, he owns a tech company or something related to technology and science. It was all very boring, so I didn’t pay much attention to what he was saying when he explained it to me. After all, the details are just that.
What matters is that he is influential and meets my standards. A man that has been personally invited to the most exclusive casino in the city will always be an invaluable pawn for me.
One last time, I check my clutch bag for all the products I might need tonight.
A deep red lipstick, a retractable comb, some condoms, and my drop point knife. A woman’s essentials.
A knock at my hotel room’s door interrupts me.
“He’s early,” I complain to myself.
Quickly, I smooth out the fabric of my long black dress and take two more minutes to make sure no hair is out of place before letting him in. It’s not the first time I find myself looking forward to a night out, and the prospect of meddling with New York’s elite makes my skin tingle. It’s thrilling the emotions that come from wealth and power. It excites me to be among them. The wealthy patrons. I know I belong here. On top of the food chain.
I like the sight in front of me. He looks like one of those handsome forty-something Hollywood actors in his expensive suit. However, I don’t doubt that all eyes will be on me tonight. It’s the effect I tend to have on people. That, and the unapproachable aura radiating from me. For some reason, people are afraid of temptation.
“Good evening, siren,” he said, his voice filled with charm.
I giggle smoothly with a hand over my mouth. I like this little nickname he gave me. According to him, I more resemble those mythical men-eating creatures than a human woman. I take that as a compliment.
“You look divine tonight,” he adds, lifting my hand and kissing its back like a gentleman would.
“Always so flattering. You look good yourself... Matt,” I purr in my characteristic honeyed voice.
Any woman in my position would have shown the proper respect to someone of his status, but I know better. Men like him are always so used to being in charge that when I show any display of authority, they are so absorbed in my commanding presence that they don’t question my intentions. Not even my age. Too blinded by the new perspectives that are presented to them.
It’s like a game where the more you practice, the better you are at it.
To every situation, it’s an opportunity to have the upper hand, my mother always says.
The casino is exactly as I expected.
Winners scream. Gallons of champagne are served by the second. The ticking of the slot machines creates a sense of euphoria in those who bet. Usually, I’m not a gambling fan. I much prefer control over uncertainty.
Two hours, that’s how long it took for my date to ignore me for a stupid card game. We had an agreement: I would come here to meet his friends and he would spend a good evening in my company. Needless to say, I underestimated his addiction. How can one be so good at making and losing money?
I watch his poker table with fake interest, standing behind him with a flute of this expensive bubbly nectar in hand, witnessing his fourth defeat of the night. My lips are pursed, but before I let a sigh escape my mouth, I lean toward his ear to excuse myself. He dismisses me with a wave of his hand, too absorbed by the shuffling of cards in front of him.
Who does he think he is to treat me as if I’m insignificant? As if I were less interesting than the dirt under his shoes. I understand that I have a role. Playing nice and pretty, I know how. But put me on the back burner?
Damn him.
I roll my eyes to the back of my head and notice one of the men at his table studying me. I smile at him and head toward the bar instead.
If Matt doesn’t give me what I want, I’ll have to find another way to establish my connection to this world.
I never have to lift a finger to be noticed. The bartender spots me walking in his direction from the back of the room, and he’s eagerly waiting to drown in any words I can spare for him.
A siren indeed.
“Martini Rosso for me, sweetheart.” I smile at him politely, but don’t try to give him my heart eyes. He’s not worth it. He works hard enough surrounded by these dirty old men that he doesn’t need me adding my little tactics to the monotony that is his life.
