Nina

Prologue

My silence is not weakness but the beginning of my revenge –. Anon

1766. Hatters Town. England.

They had killed Hope. Beaten, raped and murdered her.

Cyrus Jones found her mangled, naked black body between the chunky roots of the oak tree. It was their tree, their meeting place away from prying eyes, where they could talk, make love and plan their future.

But such a future between a white, middle-class man and a black slave woman was never to be.

Hope's eyes had glazed over. Her bruised skin had bloated. Bruising on her wrists, neck and thighs were visibly clear to Cyrus, the men brutally raped her. The gaping hole in her abdomen, oozing its bodily fluid and exposed entrails had ended her life. The devastating stench of her rotting corpse attracted the maggots and ants to her side, festering over her spilled blood and open wounds.

With a final kiss to her forehead, Cyrus stood up, flicking away the insect on his sleeve. In the sack he carried for his hat-making trade, he felt for a flint stone striker, contemplating. He couldn't leave Hope exposed on the ground, nor could he bury her.

After he placed his tricorn hat over her abdomen, he scraped the two flints together. The sparks jumped onto the hat. The fire started. It consumed Hope, the maggots, the ants and the oak tree.

But that fire was nothing compared to the one ignited in him.

Cyrus Jones will have his revenge.