by Bella Jewel
You know how it goes.
We all do.
It’s a widely known fact.
Actually, come to think of it, I think it’s probably the most important part of human life. The most crucial. The part that either makes or breaks you.
Your molding.
Doesn’t seem like a big word—hell, it doesn’t even seem like a strong one.
But it’s everything.
The moment you take your first breath in this world, the molding begins. Do your parents hold you too much, or too little? Are you over loved? Under loved? Are you spoiled? Forced to work hard? It all defines you. It all creates little pieces of who you’ll become.
Some doctors say the first two years of your life shape you. Those two years create the foundations of your personality, of the person you’ll become as an adult. That’s why it’s so important all the right things are done in those years. If they’re not, does that mean you’ll have no chance of becoming a decent human being? Are you forever ruined by a mere twenty-four months of your life?
My answer is probably yes and no.
I have my reasons for this. One, because I was molded by the worst. By a monster. By the darkest of the dark. The devil himself. Did that make me a bad person? Absolutely. At times, I’ve done things that I can’t even allow myself to think about now for fear they’ll ruin me.
But, also, I believe I’m a good person. I want to help people. I want to be better. I don’t want to be like him. To live the life he tried so hard to fashion me for. So, the complicated answer is yes and no. People are molded from the moment they’re born, but that doesn’t always mean they’ll stay in the messy, ugly shape they’ve been carved into. Sometimes, they’ll run their own hands over the edges, smooth out what’s been damaged, and make themselves almost normal again.
Almost.
That’s what I am, I think.
An almost.
And I’m completely okay with that.
-1-
THEN – CHARLIE
I stare at the cold, green eyes of my father. He can’t see me. But I can see him. He’s standing by the window, on the phone, barking into the mouthpiece. He doesn’t know I’m in here because I’m not supposed to be in here. His office is out of bounds, the one place in the house my mother and I are forbidden to go. So, of course, I came. Curious as to what made it so special, what made it such a dark zone.
I didn’t find anything.
Although, at seven, I can’t really read very well and everything I found was all papers, and computers, and everything I don’t understand or even know how to use. To me, his office seems boring. I wouldn’t want to play in here anyway, so I’m not sure why he would tell me I can’t come in.
But my father isn’t a nice man.
In fact, I don’t think I like him at all.
My friends at school tell me that’s not very nice because he’s my father, and I shouldn’t say things like that about my father.
But they don’t know what he’s like.
They don’t know how it feels when he slaps me across the face. My eyes water, and my face stings, and it sometimes makes my nose bleed. But mostly, it makes my mommy cry, and I don’t like to hear her cry. So, I don’t have to like him, I don’t think. I mean, girls at school don’t like the bullies because they’re mean. And that’s what my dad is, a bully.
“What do you mean they’re coming—”
My father yells loudly into the phone but then stops talking and spins around. My head whips around too, because I hear my mother scream. It’s loud, and she sounds really scared. My hands move from their spot on my lap and I go to rush out, but if he knows I’m in here, I’ll never be able to help. So, I tuck myself back behind the big lounge chair that’s hiding me, and I’m quiet. My heart hurts a lot, it feels kind of like it’s going to leap right out of my chest.
I’m scared.
Dad’s door swings open, and I peek my head around from behind the chair in the corner and see two big, scary men holding Mommy. She’s crying, and one of them has his hand over her mouth. I start crying too, because they’re hurting her. Why are they hurting her? Mommy isn’t mean, she’s kind and loving. Why isn’t my father doing anything?
My knees are shaking.
I’m so afraid.
“How did you get into my house?”
My father doesn’t ask them to let her go, he isn’t even looking at her. Why isn’t he saving her? In the books Mommy reads me, the prince always saves the princess. So, why isn’t he doing anything?
“Tricked your silly wife here into thinking we were here to fix your broken stove. Stupid woman. You’d think you would have picked someone smarter.”
My father looks to my mother now, and he looks angry.
“You stupid bitch,” he spits at her. “You know better.”
My bottom lip trembles.
That’s a terrible word.
Why is he being so mean to her? It wasn’t her fault.
“What do you want?”
My father’s voice is calm as he speaks to the two scary men who are holding my mother.
“You know what we want.”
“Don’t have it,” my father sneers. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t give it to you.”
A big man, the scariest one, I think, has a bald head and I don’t like his eyes, they make me feel frightened. He smiles at my dad, like he thinks what he just said is really funny.
I don’t think it’s funny.
“It’s a shame you said that, Benjamin, because that wasn’t the answer we wanted.”
“You’ll never get the answer you want, now get the fuck out of my house.”
“Or what?” The scary bald man laughs.
“You’ll find nothing here.” My father crosses his arms, staring at the two men.
I’m scared to breathe.
My hands are shaking now.
Someone needs to help Mommy. She looks so scared. So frightened.
“Ah, but we will find something. You can hide as much as you wish, Benjamin, but we will get what we came for. One way or another. I’m sure you’re aware of that. After all, why would you go to such lengths to keep us away if you didn’t have concerns?”
“I want you away because you’re scum,” my dad spits.
“Perhaps,” Bald man says, shrugging. “Either way, we’ve been told to send you a message.”
He pulls out a gun. I know, because my dad carries them everywhere. My heart feels funny again, and I can’t stop crying. Why is that man holding a gun? Why is he smiling? Someone help Mommy. Father, why aren’t you helping her?
“His message, to be clear, is simple. Destroy everything until he gives what we want. So, that’s what we’re here to do. Starting with your wife.”
I look to my father, praying he’ll be running toward Mommy to knock that gun out of that mean man’s hand, but he isn’t. He’s just standing there. Staring. His face so hard, it’s scaring me. Why isn’t he helping her? I don’t understand.
I look back to Mommy, and she’s shaking her head, tears running down her cheeks. No. Mommy. I’ll help her. I push to my knees, but the man puts the gun to Mommy’s face, and he pulls the trigger. I scream, but nobody can hear me because the gun makes a loud noise. Then there is blood. Everywhere. All over the ground. All over my father. All over the men holding Mommy. And I can’t see her face anymore.
I can’t breathe.
Someone help me.
Mommy.
Mommy.
The man drops Mommy to the floor, and looks around. “Anyone else in here that we can send a message to? Children, perhaps?”
No.
The man wants to hurt me.
No.
“I have no children,” my father says, his voice the same. “And you have three seconds to get the fuck out of my house.”
Why isn’t he crying? Like me. Mommy. Please. Mommy.
“Or what?” the bald man says.
I didn’t see my father move. Not really. No
t once. But, suddenly, the two men he always has around, Darius and Popper, appear behind the other two men. And they raise their guns. I press my hands over my eyes and keep them there as the awful sounds make the room seem really loud. I’m crying so hard my body is shaking, but I can’t stop it. Not now. Mommy. I want my mommy.
Silence.
Then my dad’s voice. “Get rid of them. And her.”
Mommy.
No.
No.
Dad, don’t get rid of her.
Mommy.
“On it now, Boss.”
I stay crouched behind the chair. I don’t want to come out. I don’t ever want to open my eyes again. I want my mommy. Is she okay? Is father taking her to the hospital? Will she be okay after the man shot her face?
I stay there for a while, just crying.
And then I hear my father’s voice.
“Charlene, stand up.”
I put my hands down and blink back my tears. Then I look up to see him staring down at me, his face blank. Mommy’s face was never blank. It was always warm. I want my mommy.
“Mommy,” I cry.
“Stand up. Your mother is gone, and she isn’t coming back.”
No.
I start to cry harder.
“Stand up this instant! And stop your sniveling.”
I push to my feet, my knees shaking so hard it takes me a while. When I’m standing, he takes my arm and pulls me out from behind the chair. I see a lot of red, it’s everywhere, all over the ground and the walls. But Mommy isn’t there anymore. She’s gone. Those men took her away.
Mommy.
“It’s just you and me now,” my father says to me, but it isn’t in a kind way. It scares me.
I look at him.
“Only nobody knows about you. That’s going to work in my favor. Welcome to my world, Charlene. It’s time you learned to be a part of the family you were born into.”
But I don’t want to be a part of this family.
I just want my mommy back.
~*~*~*~
NOW – CHARLIE
“Get. On. The. Bike.”
To look at Vice President of the Iron Fury Motorcycle Club, Koda, would make any girl stop in her tracks and just stare in awe. He has the kind of face you dream about. The kind of body that makes yours come to life. He’s goddamned candy wrapped in leather, and he knows it. I don’t know if it’s the honey-colored eyes or the messy dark blond hair that sometimes falls over his forehead. Or if it’s that silky olive skin covered in tattoos.
Hell, it could be just the fact that his body is bigger, and musclier, and firmer than any man I’ve ever laid eyes on. He has biceps that would make the best of us squirm, and a chest that’s wide, broad, and strong. All the same, Koda is every females’ wet dream.
Until he opens his mouth.
He’s filled to the brim with arrogance, and he’s not shy to show it.
Yes, Koda might be worthy of being top of the list in my spank bank, but I can’t stand him. In fact, I despise him. And he knows it.
They all know it.
And that’s why they’re sending me to a cabin in the mountains, alone, with him, for my own protection.
And they want me to get on his bike.
On his fucking bike.
With him.
“I’d rather not,” I finally say, crossing my arms over my chest and staring at the tight-jawed biker already nestled on his rumbling Harley Davidson, ready to go.
“You either get on,” he begins, his voice a whip, “or …”
“Koda,” Malakai says, his voice smooth, but firm. “Haven’t even left yet and you’re already throwin’ in the threats. Cool it, brother. Charlie—” He turns to me, and I stare at him. I like Malakai, only I’ll never tell him that. He helped me when I needed it, and he’s helping me again now. I’m grateful for that, truly I am. But did he really have to send me with Koda? “Do as you’re told.”
“I don’t like him,” I point out, my voice smooth. “And don’t think I don’t know you’re sending me with him because you know I don’t like him.”
“I’m sendin’ you with him because he’s the fuckin’ best. Don’t care if you believe that or you don’t, it’s how it is. You don’t have many options. You either stay down here and risk gettin’ a bullet to the skull when someone finds you and cashes in that hit, or you get on that bike and let Koda protect you.”
“How can I be sure he won’t be the one to put a bullet in my skull? We all know he likes me about as much as I like him. Which, in case you haven’t noticed, is a big fat zero.”
“Because I trust him, and that’s all there is to it. Call is yours. You trust us, or you go out there and try and hide on your own. Promise you, though, darlin’, that they’ll find you before you’re two towns down the road.”
My heart pounds against my chest at that thought. I know who called the hit. And I know he’ll stop at nothing to end me. Nearly ten years in jail and he managed to squirm his way out. That’s the thing about having people in high places—you can twist the system to your will. He’s been out for a little bit, and I’ve been running since.
But then I got involved with the club, hoping for their protection.
In doing that, he figured out I’m still around. And I’m still alive. And he wants revenge.
Only, he isn’t going to do the job himself. No.
He put a hit out. A million dollars.
One way or another, he’ll try to finally rid himself of me.
And seek the revenge he’s been plotting for all those years in prison.
I exhale, and glance over at Amalie and Scarlett. Both of them are watching me with wide eyes. I like them. A good deal. I rarely have friends. I rarely speak to other people. But these two girls, they’re the good kind.
“We’ll come visit often,” Amalie tells me, smiling.
Her striking beauty still catches me at a loss. She’s incredibly beautiful. The kind you rarely see. Pure, innocent, and soft. And she chose a biker.
Go figure.
“We’ll bring alcohol,” Scarlett tells me. “Parties. It’ll be great.”
“Club will be up every three or four days,” Malakai assures me. “Won’t be alone for long periods. Make your choice, Charlie.”
I glance at Koda, and he shoots me a shit-eating grin. He knows he’s got me backed against a wall, and he knows there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. Because he knows, like anyone, that I value my life. So, I exhale, and walk over to the bike, glaring at him. “You don’t scare me, biker. If you try anything, I will drop you.”
His grin gets bigger. “Challenge accepted. Get on the bike.”
I glance at the bikers and their girls watching me once more, and then I get on the bike. I try to scoot back as far as I can so I’m not wrapped around the big biker in front of me, but it’s nearly impossible. Especially when he leans back and grabs my knee, sliding me forward with little to no effort.
“You want to die before we get there, stay back on the side. You want to live, stop bein’ a fuckin’ baby and scoot closer.”
I make a growling sound and scoot closer. Now my legs are spread right around him, and my intimate parts are pressed against him. God. My cheeks burn with frustration and a little shame. Fucking bikers.
Koda slaps my knee, no doubt in a victorious kind of way.
“Touch me again,” I growl, “and I’ll chop your fingers off.”
Maverick, who is standing next to the bike, lets out a booming laugh. “Should have a fantastic time then, Dakoda.”
Koda shoots him a look so icy it makes me shuffle back just a smidge. Maverick is unfazed by it.
Koda hates his name.
I make a note to call him by it at least ten times daily.
“Cabin is stocked, everythin’ you need is there, includin’ weapons and your laptop. Need anythin’, call,” Malakai tells Koda. “You good, brother?”
Koda nods. “Got this.”
“Don’t kill
the girl, yeah?” he grins.
Koda grunts. “Can’t promise that.”
“Jerk,” I mutter under my breath, and then pull on the helmet Scarlett hands me.
Then we’re off.
Things are about to get interesting.
-2-
NOW – KODA
Fucking. Woman.
Fucking painful, stubborn ass woman.
I watch her backside as she walks, or rather, storms in front of me up the small, overgrown trail leading to the cabin Malakai owns in the mountains. If it weren’t for the fact that her ass looks fucking incredible in the tight blue jeans she’s wearing, I’d have probably done away with her by now.
Mouthy little shit.
She stops suddenly and turns around, glancing at me with those green eyes that would make any man’s dick hard. I don’t usually go for red heads, but for this one, I think any man would convert. She’s got the kind of hair that is as wild as her personality—deep red, thick, fucking long. Her eyes, though. Emerald green. Framed by thick lashes. Full lips. Button nose. Skin so soft and creamy white it looks almost fake. Aside from a few left-over cuts and bruises from her time with Treyton, her skin is flawless.
Perfection.
With a filthy damned attitude.
Arms cross over her perky little tits. I don’t hide the fact that I drag my eyes over them before finally connecting with hers once more.
“God. Men,” she huffs, chest rising and falling in a soft, deep pant from the walk.
“Anyone would think you’re out of shape, Charlie,” I point out to her. “The way you’re puffin’ and pantin’.”
She frowns then glares. “Anyone would think you have forgotten I spent a long time in Treyton’s hands, so I’m not fully up to scratch yet, Dakoda.”
“Call me Dakoda one more fuckin’ time and see what happens.”
She steps forward, leaning in, arms still crossed over her chest. “Give it your best shot, Dakoda.”
Anger bubbles in my chest, and I step forward; she flinches and steps back, but she’s too slow. Her mouth has pissed me off one too many times in the last hour. I take hold of her arm, spinning her around so quickly she nearly loses her footing. She tries to fight it, no doubt, but I’m used to taking grown men down. She’s got nothing on that.
