Prologue
•Duke's POV•

While I was growing up I longed for just a few things. All simple things really. Like having fun each day, making some friends, and to feel loved. The same things any kids wants when they're young. Which, when you think about it, isn't a whole lot to ask for anyways.

Unless, like me, at 3 days old the kid is left outside an orphanage in rural Alabama. Wrapped in nothing but an old ratty blue flannel blanket. With a folded up piece of paper tucked beside it in the cardboard box. The note containing only two sentences written inside it. No name or clue where they came from, or any other clues how to find them. Only two lines made up of very simple words.

'This is my son Alexander Dukeon. Please find him the loving home I couldn't give him.'

While I was still young I learned fun wasn't something we had at the orphanage. Rules, a strict schedule, and extreme forms of discipline were the foundation the beginning of my life was molded to. As well as helping the workers take care of the kids younger than me.

That was my everyday life until I turned 10 years old. By then I'd become extremely angry and defiant with everyone. Making it damn near impossible for the workers at the orphanage to control me. So, they decided to send me away to become someone else's problem. Without saying a word about it to me.

From that day on I was moved into a new placement, group home, or orphanage. At the bare minimum of twice a year. Some years more than ten times in a single 12 month period. I stopped trying to make, or keep any friends. Easier when the time came for me to leave.

The more time passed of me continuously getting shuffled around, the more withdrawn I became. Pushing everyone away before they could even try to get close to me. Choosing to stay alone, to myself, in peace. Giving up entirely on the thought of ever finding love or a family one day.

A few months before my 17th birthday I ran away from the last foster home I was placed in. Taking my chances on the streets. Instead of spending another second under my dead beat foster parents roof.

The man of the house, if you could even call him that, was a raging alcoholic. With a very short, and quick temper. While the lady got so high she checked out of reality for days at a time.

For more than a year I did everything I could just to get by. Taking any odd job I could get no matter what it was. As long as they paid cash, and didn't ask any questions. Moving on at the drop of a dime if anyone started to get suspicious. Traveling all the way to the outskirts of Miami Beach before it all came crashing down.

To this day I don't know if I should call it fate, or pure dumb luck that put me in that gas station that night. I would usually keep my head down and to myself while I was in a place I knew had security cameras. Trying not to draw any attention, or suspicion to myself. It's the same tactic that kept me safe for months. Except that night.

As soon as I walked through the double sliding glass doors I knew deep in my gut something was wrong. I looked around the store discreetly. Only noticing two other people in the store. Both were behind the checkout counter, but the younger male was standing alarmingly close to the older woman's back.

Neither of them spoke as I entered the store. The woman sending me a wobbly welcoming smile instead. Sending another red flag up in my head. I dragged my feet taking my time making my selection. Waiting to see if the duo would move from their awkward stance, but nothing.

The closer I got to the counter I could see that the woman was shaking from head to toe. I sat my things down then reached for my wallet in my back pocket. Bending my head down pretending to search my money I take a closer look at the pair.

The woman took a step toward the counter starting to check me out. Putting a small space between the two. That's when I say it.

The man looked to be in his mid twenties, and about 6ft tall. He had a knife digging into the woman's back. Along her lower back where her kidneys should be. He covered the blade quickly so I couldn't see. Stepping against the woman's back again. Watching me and her nervously.

The woman finished putting my things in a bag looking up. Telling me my total, but trying to avoid looking me in the eye. When I finally caught her gaze I tried to send her a reassuring smile. While she silently begged me for help with her eyes.

I take a twenty dollar bill from my wallet handing it over. When she went to hand me back my change I moved my palm at the last second. Making all my change fall to the floor on her side of the counter. The lady bent down instinctively to grab the money apologizing.

I took my chance quickly. I lunged across the counter grabbing the man. Wrapping my fist around his wrist holding the knife, and the collar of his hoodie in my other hand. Pulling the man over the counter, and dropping him to the floor. Punching and kicking in a blind rage. Until the man was unconscious, and the police were pulling me off of him.

Sitting in the police station, cuffed, looking at pictures of the man fighting for his life in a hospital bed I realized something. It didn't matter what precautions I'd taken. Leaving my foster home, and the constant treat of violence. Staying away from gangs, and other criminals while I was on the streets.

It was all for nothing! I was seriously fucked!

No one disputed I originally acted in self defense. Trying to stop the robbery, and save the woman from getting stabbed. But, it was the fact I didn't stop the DA charged me with felony assault.

The DA didn't care I was only 17, and technically still a minor. Charging me as an adult along with a few more bogus charges for running away. As the DA told me any decent prosecutor could make a blind man understand I'd over done it. Not even stopping once the man was unconscious, and defenseless under me.

I spent the next 30 days in jail wallowing in misery. Trying my best to come to terms with my impending stay in jail. Waiting patiently each day for my court date to finally roll around. When that day arrived I was a nervous wreck.

The DA laid out my entire case for the judge. Making me seem like an out of control animal that needs to locked up, and tamed. When he was finished the judge took a short recess to read over my complete DCS file.

I sat in that courtroom telling myself I was ready to face the worst. Only the judge had a different plan for me. Offering me a choice jail, or the military.

I could either choose to serve 10 plus years in a maximum security penitentiary, or serve a greater purpose for myself. I could stay at a small group home from older boys here in town until my birthday. In that time I would have to get my GED, and stay out of trouble.

I took option number 2, and signed up for the military. Repeatedly thanking the older judge as I left the courtroom that afternoon. For the first time in my life someone actually gave me a chance, and I wasn't going to let him down.

I moved into my final group home later that day. Keeping my head down, and staying to myself. Focusing only on my studies. Taking my GED test two months later. I was so nervous when I got the results back two weeks before my birthday I couldn't open them.

I kept the envelope sealed and hidden until that Friday. The judge came to the group home for our weekly visit, something he started the day after I moved in, and I gave it straight to him.

He didn't waste a second opening the envelope, and reading what was inside. The smile on his face growing as he read the results aloud. Verifying I passed with flying colors. Scoring in the top 3 percent of all tested.

The judge took me straight to the recruiting office that afternoon. Signing my papers as my legal witness. Even taking the time to bring me back two weeks later. Giving me the best birthday present by telling me how proud he was of me. Before I loaded the bus getting ready to leave.

I rode two different Greyhound Buses for an entire week. Traveling all the way across the country to the west coast. Seeing the Pacific Ocean for the first time in my life. Arriving soon after in Southern California for basic training.

A few days after I arrived I was paired with a guy named Dean Masters. Dean was almost 2 years older than me, and maybe an inch taller than my 6Ft 5in height. But, that's where our similarities end.

Dean had dark brown almost black hair. Mine was sandy blond before being shaved off for boot camp. My eyes were a bright blue while Dean's were black. Our skin tone sported a nice tan year round, but his was more of a bronze color. Our bodies were a little on the lean side for our height, but I had a little more muscle than him.

Dean and I instantly hit it off. Working effortlessly together making the perfect team despite being so different. Always coming in at the top of our drills, and inseparable during our free time.

Forming a connection that was more than just friend, almost like brother. Sharing such a deep bond was scary, and exciting all at the same time. I'd never said anything like it with another person before.

Dean and I completed basic training a few months later. Graduating first and second in our class. Making the decision together shortly after to join BUDS training next. Finishing the special training almost a year later. Neither of us being sent down a step. Even getting assigned to the same team after.

Several months later Dean's cousin Drake Masters, was placed on our team as well. Adding one more person to our small group. I thought Drake would be just like his cousin. Loud, goofy, and outgoing, but I couldn't have been more wrong.

Drake was very quiet, and reserved at first. Reminding me so much of myself when I was growing up. Except he was more intense than I ever was. With an unmovable iron control. Equivalent to that of an ancient zen master. A power that was all consuming, and getting stronger by the day. Making him seem way beyond his almost 20 years.

  For the first time in my life I had a family. Other people who looked out for me, accepted me, and people to show me what it means to truly love another unconditionally. The kind of unconditional love you would take a bullet for. Quiet literally, actually.

After two tours Drake decided to leave the team first. Moving back to New York and starting up a private security firm. He pitched the idea to Dean and I so much before he left, we both decided to join him as partners after one more tour.

Only once the plans were set Dean almost didn't finish. He only made it half way through our last deployment when fate stepped in. Flipping my world upside down again. Almost stealing my dreams and plans for the future.

Things I desperately wanted, and hadn't let myself hope for since I was a kid. All revolving around Dean, our make-shift family, and continuing things we started while younger. Like exploring our Dominant sides, and sharing women.

It was almost a year after that before we were all back together again. Taking totally different roles on the business working for Drake. Dean and I deciding to stay close as well. Renovating side by side loft apartments into one shared space for the both of us. Sampling all sorts of women in that time, but never finding the right one.

My life was perfect then. Better than I could have imagined it could get. Until Dean left for Florida almost 6 years ago. Without so much as saying goodbye. Leaving me felling abandoned and alone. Like the lost boy I was.

A few months after that Drake gave me the head security job for a BDSM club in New York called Sinful Delights trying to cheer me back up. Except it didn't. Nothing seemed to be able to reach me in my despair.

Until two years ago when a blond-headed bombshell walked through the club doors, and my world got flipped upside down again.

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Soooo...what do you guys think? I wanted to give a little more back story into what makes Duke so stand-offish and silent. Hope y'all understand him a little more now!
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  Thank each and everyone of you amazing people!
   Callie

Text Copyright  ©Callie Sumner ™ 2019