*This book contains Book One and Book Two of the Alliance Series*
Book One: Alliance
She didn't want to hold a gun, but Mel Sparrow did not have the choice. The Rebels were crossing the Wall and leaking into her land, bring destruction with them. Wh...
Mel had a few goals in life. Nothing too crazy. Finish school, which she did. Continue the fishery with Dad, which she was doing. Someday she would settle down and build a family, which she planned to do.
Her plan was simple. Her life was simple.
Until it was not.
Rebels from the Wasteland had threatened the United Regions for months. People said the rebels wanted to find vengeance over their loss from the Rebel Uprising War twenty-five years before. Mel didn't believe the threats and warnings of the rebels until she came face to face with one.
One night, with her childhood home up in flames she learns new truths about her father. Her simple life dream is burnt to a crisp, which forces Mel to rethink everything.
With no other option, Mel joins the Alliance, a specialized military branch of the King's Army. Alongside her mentor, Ben, and her fellow cadets, Mel must navigate a new world and create a new life.
A life that would not be simple.
Nor a life that Mel wanted.
Welcome to the Alliance.
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Sneak Peak of the new Alliance:
When I swung again, the iron poker hitting the glass window was deafening in the silent, dark house. The second swung had all the strength I could muster behind it, but the iron poker only cracked a little where it hit the glass.
Footsteps rushed toward us. Ignoring who accompanied them, I raised the poker and swung again. The glass spider-webbed from the little crack.
I swung again.
A gunshot sounded through the room. I ducked and turned. Dad stood a few feet from me, his gun out in front of him as a body by the kitchen door fell to the floor. In the hall, footsteps pounded down the wooden planks of the staircase.
I straightened and swung the poker again at the window.
Another gunshot.
Another swing.
Another thud of a body falling.
My heart raced.
Another swing.
Half of the window crashed outward, the little pieces of glass raining on the wooden porch.
A gunshot.
A fallen body.
One last swing and the rest of the glass gave way, clearing the window frame for us to fit through.
"It's done." I didn't turn to Dad. Didn't see if he still stood. I rushed to the window; one hand gripped the iron poker and the other gripped the ledge of the window to steady myself.
