People seemed to like my sister. Respect her.
So who killed her?
Anita Carmichael is her faction’s sweetheart—respected soldier, supporter of the people, sister of their murdered leader. A murder that started the war and plunged Scotland into chaos. Ten years later, Anita still seeks vengeance, alongside her brother-in-law and her sister’s friends. Her friends.
Or so she thought.
Betrayed by those closest to her and captured by the enemy, she struggles to survive psychotic despots, torture and the hatred of the people who once loved her. Brutalised, scarred and alone, Anita trusts no one, especially the most radical faction who claim to know the answer.
Will she ever discover who killed her sister? And what if the truth destroys everything she’s fought for?
Captivity is a harrowing glimpse of a dystopian Scotland and one woman’s quest for answers. If you like a woman who can handle a gun, a bleak future and fast-paced action, you’ll love Nadine Little’s debut and the first book in her Faction War Chronicles. Buy Captivity and join Anita’s fight today.
Content warning: this book is written in British English and contains swearing, sex and violence (including torture, attempted rape and sexual harassment). Some scenes also include PTSD flashbacks.
Targeted Age Group:: Adults
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I was inspired to write Captivity (and all the books in The Faction War Chronicles) by a dream I had as a teenager. In my dream, all the adults had fled the country, leaving the teenagers at war with each other and they split Scotland into factions.
Bit of a weird dream for a thirteen-year-old.
Obviously, a whole country version of Lord of the Flies wasn't believable so the story has developed over the years into what it is today: a tale of Anita Carmichael's search for the truth about who killed her sister and started a war.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
Like my book ideas, my characters come to me in dreams, sometimes fully formed or they develop as I start writing them. My characters definitely have a little bit of me in each of them, particularly the main character. I've been told a couple of times by friends that the main character sounds exactly like me when they talk.
Rarely a day goes by where I don’t think of my sister and wonder how different it could have been.
Okay, maybe not normal. Just not this.
Hannah sighs from the driver’s seat beside me. “I hate no man’s land.”
She twists the key and the rumble of the biodiesel engine fades under my butt. Fat blobs of rain splat on the reinforced windscreen.
“I’m surprised you volunteered,” I say, my voice neutral.
She slides me a look anyway, her helmet cocked on her perfect chestnut hair. “I’m a soldier, too, Anita. Not as active as you but that shouldn’t be a fault.”
“That’s not what I meant, though there’s no shame in a non-combat role.”
She wrinkles her nose. “What, give up my dog-tags and work in a factory? You’d love that.”
We both know Marshall won’t make her work in a factory.
A gust of wind shakes our armoured Reaver and shivers through a mangled branch caught on the front-mounted blade. I ease a breath in and out.
Tempting as it is to punch Hannah’s crabbit face, she’s the closest thing I have to a sister now.
“Whatever makes you happy,” I say instead. “I’ll support you.”
Her hazel eyes flash. “This will make me very happy so are we going to sit here or do what we came for?”
“Ladies,” a voice oozes from the rear passenger compartment, “why don’t we all kiss and make up?”
A hand squeezes my shoulder but I shrug it off.
“Fuck off, Reece.”
How are his palms always moist? It’s April and cold as balls.
“Such language, Carmichael,” he says. “It’s really unbecoming.”
He laughs at my glare, his platinum hair flopping over his right eye, the left side of his head shaved short. My door clunks, the wind spearing icy bursts through my combat jacket. Hannah, Reece and the three other soldiers in my vehicle join me outside, Reece still chuckling.
I hope he gets eaten by an abomination.
The boxy Reaver sits at the end of a mangled path between the trees. A second vehicle parks beside ours, a belch of fumes fogging in the chilly air. I check my SA80 A3 rifle, the Glock in my waist holster, my flick-knife.
I wish I had more weapons—a rocket launcher, a portable machine gun.
We creep through the dripping forest, our gun barrels sweeping the undergrowth. The second team set up a defensive perimeter at our backs.
The gloom brightens, the trees ending in a hacked area sloping downward to a rusted barbed wire fence a couple of metres tall. A cracked road winds towards a rickety metal gate. Shoots of green speck the field of massacred wood. We spread out on our bellies. A bitter-smelling elder leaf slaps me in the cheek with every gust of wind. I pull out my binoculars and scan the encampment beyond the fence. Bullet-pocked buildings, scorched stone, crumpled brick.
“Look at them,” Reece sneers, flopping next to me. “They have no defences. We could storm their shitty boundary and wipe them out. Goodbye, Embra.”
I inch away from the press of his hip. “This is recon only, Reece. We watch. Nothing else.”
“But it’s boring.”
“Would you rather be with the team watching Rebel State?” I say, still searching for movement, dampness seeping into my uniform.
His silence tells me he’s quite happy surveying the once-fine capital of Scotland instead of the wasteland surrounding Glasgow.
I roll my eyes at Hannah. Her hair trails in the dirt.
“I am glad you’re here,” I whisper. “Usually, it’s just me trying to herd these assholes and not die.”
Her lips twitch.
Maybe she’s past her huff. I should probably talk to her when we’re safe back in Calders but I hate all that girly shit.
We shift position twice, sticking to the tree line, Hannah my permanent shadow. Nothing moves in the shattered sprawl of Edinburgh.
Are they all dead? Maybe there was a disease or they starved or a pack of abominations slipped through their drooping fence and slaughtered them. How disappointing. I need someone alive to answer the question that’s been burning in my gut since this whole mess started.
“We have sounds of pursuit on our six,” says a voice from the comms system attached to my collar. “Stand by.”
I roll to my knees, my rifle pointed into the murky woods. My heart thumps five painful beats before the voice returns.
“Cocking deer,” he says. “Stand down.”
Reece grins and wiggles his eyebrows. “Fresh venison, lads.”
He disappears into the foliage, leaving me and Hannah alone. I tap the shiny screen of my transmitter.
“Knives only,” I say and jerk my head at Hannah. “Come on. Two hours in no man’s land is enough for me.”
Hannah glances at the encampment, something flickering over her face too fast for me to read. Her fingers tighten on her rifle. Gunfire clatters deeper in the trees.
I jab the comms system and bruise my collarbone. “Are we under attack?”
The gunfire stops, replaced by the rush of wind and the patter of rain.
“Reece,” I say through gritted teeth, “did you shoot the motherfucking deer?”
“It was getting away.”
An alarm wails from the depths of Embra.
“Huh,” Reece says. “I guess there is someone in there.”
“Everyone back to the Reavers.”
Voices and squealing metal drag my gaze to the encampment. Soldiers in grey and brown shove the rusted gate open, leaping into a line of jeeps. Tyres bounce on cracked concrete and lopped trunks.
Can’t fault their response time.
Perhaps they wanted us to think they’d be easy to topple.
Hannah’s boots thump in tandem to mine, her breath puffing white. Brambles rip my camouflage-patterned combats. We sprint around a fallen pine in a bloom of rhododendron, Hannah lagging behind my stride.
She may be curvy but she’s short.
And she’s more used to lying on her back than running for her life.
I crash through a snarl of elder bushes, my blonde hair tugged from its ponytail. My boots skid on moss and wet mud.
“Hannah,” I say on a whoop of air, wobbling on the edge, “careful, there’s a—”
A weight slams into the small of my back.
Links to Purchase Print Books
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