Home > TRISTAN (Grim Sinners MC #6)

TRISTAN (Grim Sinners MC #6)
Author: LeAnn Ashers




LeAnn Ashers






Copyright © 2021 by LeAnn Ashers

All rights reserved.

Tristan is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form, by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the author.



* * *


Cover Designer: Regina Wamba

Photographer: Wander Aguiar

Editor: Courtney Delollis

Editor: Virginia Tesi Carey

Formatter: HJ Bellus







1. Lynn


2. Lynn


3. Lynn


4. Lynn


5. Lynn


6. Lynn


7. Tristan


8. Tristan


9. Tristan


10. Lynn


11. Lynn


12. Lynn


13. Lynn


14. Lynn


15. Lynn













Thirteen Years Old



* * *


I pretend I don’t hear the footsteps thundering up the hallway toward my bedroom.

My fists clench onto my threadbare blanket that is so old that it doesn’t even provide any kind of warmth anymore.

This scene is all too familiar. I remember the morning that they wrenched open Etta’s bedroom door, tore her from her bed to marry someone twice her age.

Once, I saw my mother and father talking in secret in the kitchen, but they stopped the second I walked into the room. I knew it would soon be time for it to happen to me and I have dreaded that day ever since.

In our church, their beliefs are that at the age of thirteen, girls and boys are considered an adult and they are of age to marry. However, for girls, it's a fear that we all face and not something to look forward to.

The day I turned thirteen, my life as I knew it was gone. My worst fear came to life.

I knew my time was up. I hold my breath listening and praying that they walk past my room to another part of the house. I can see their footsteps outside of the door and my heart sinks when two more sets of feet join them.

Fear unlike I have ever felt before hits me. My bedroom door opens and standing at the entrance are my father Michael and an older man I have never seen before.

My father walks into the room, his hands large, demanding as he reaches down and grabs me by my arms, dragging me out of bed.

I wince at his tight fist gripping me. “Ow,” I hiss and my father’s eyes glare at me with pure hatred.

I look over at the man who supposedly is my new husband, who appears to be around the same age as my father. I try not to throw up at the thought of what is going to happen to me, what I will have to suffer for the rest of my life.

Living with my parents has been hell, but the look in his eyes tells me this is going to be worse than anything I have ever imagined. I’d rather die.

“Come on my darlin, it’s time to take you home.” He grins at me, showing his very crooked teeth. He takes my hand, wrenching me against his chest.

“We have a busy day ahead of us.”

My life as I knew it was over. And a new kind of hell has begun.









Age Twenty-One



I smile at Michaela over my cup of coffee. Her hair is a mess from where she rolls around in her sleep and most of the time ends up on the floor, so I stick pillows by her bed just to be on the safe side.

My sweet angel is seven years old. I had her when I was only fourteen years old, still a baby myself. But she is the best thing that has graced my life so far.

She smiles at me, her eyes sleepy. Suddenly, her eyes pop open and her smile turns into a wide grin, showing her missing two front teeth. “Is that bacon I smell?” she asks.

I nod laughing. “Along with some French toast. Dig in, sweet girl.” I help her sit down and hand her her plate. I kiss the top of her head; I love her so much.

Every day I thank God that she doesn’t have to live the life that I did growing up. I sit down beside her talking to her about school and how she wants to play softball with Tiffany, Lane and Amelia’s daughter.

I push her hair over her shoulder so she doesn’t get syrup in it. “Can I wear my new jeans today, Mommy?” she asks between syrupy bites.

“You can, baby. I also packed you an extra sandwich liked you asked for your friend too.” She grins happily at that.

One of her friends forgot their lunch once and it devastated her, so she has decided that she must bring extras in case that ever happens again. My precious angel.

“Alright, go get dressed,” I urge her and she runs upstairs to her room. I put the plate in the dishwasher.

I pull out my briefcase and look over my first client of the day’s file so I can prepare myself; it’s a four-year-old little girl.

I am a therapist who specializes in trauma, mostly PTSD. Working with kids is hard on me mentally, but I know therapy is so important when it comes to your healing journey.

I know if my brother didn’t get me into therapy as soon as he rescued me from the cult, I wouldn’t have recovered like I did. I am forever thankful for that.

Michaela runs down the stairs making one final jump at the bottom of the stairs with her backpack on her. “Ready, Mom!” She does a little twirl showing me her new jeans and Converse shoes.

“Wow, you’re so beautiful, my angel.” I walk over and smoosh her cheeks together giving her a kiss. She giggles trying to get away. “Mommy!” she squeals and runs to the front door.

The sound of her laughter makes me so happy. I will never forget the second I laid eyes on her and the love I had for her, how much I wanted to protect her.

Etta and I made it our mission to get out and find our brothers. I didn’t want Michaela to suffer the same fate as us and so many other women.

“Mom, I have softball practice after school today,” Michaela reminds me as I buckle her in her booster seat.

“I remember and I’m to bring the cookies, right?”

Her eyes light up. “You got it, dude.” She lifts her hand with her thumb up like Michelle from Full House, her favorite show.



Etta is waiting for me outside of the compound. I have my own office inside of the compound where we bring all of the women that are brought from cults and other horrible situations. It’s basically a huge house with a lot of rooms. Once the girls are stable, we transfer them to another house on the property where they live as long as they want.

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