Brutes of Bristlebrook

Tonight was meant to be about kink. Our lives are a nightmare of last-minute deployments and near misses, and we needed the break. Instead, we broke. The whole world broke. But as city after city is blown apart, and with a club full of civilians to protect, we have to pull it together and get them to safety. No matter how we’re feeling. No matter how many family members are disintegrating into ash. We have a job to do, so we’ll be each other’s strength.

Since the Final War, I’ve been doing just fine. I have a lovely cave, a darling vegetable patch, forest views . . . and if loneliness sometimes squeezes my aching heart, well, my books have always kept me company. That is, until a pack of hunters chase me from my home and right into the arms of several rather large, rather brutish ex-Army Rangers. And those brutes have the nerve to make me the rudest offer I’ve ever heard. Their protection—for my body.

Bristlebrook is up in smoke, my brutes are dead, and Sam’s camp is a powder keg begging for a flame. Injured and furious over their losses, the surviving hunters are preoccupied with their own problems. Their factions and allegiances. Their internal wars and pissing contests. The new world they want to forge. They don’t look twice at their meek little captive.