UnCage me (Savage Beast MC Book 8)

by Hayley Faiman

  I’m lifted up and practically thrown onto a table, I have no clue what is going on or why. I had two more weeks, two more weeks before this was supposed to happen. I don’t know why things have changed, but I’m not eighteen, I was safe for two more weeks—at least I thought that I was.

  Their hands are all over me, but they don’t touch my breasts or my center, when they take a step back, I try to lift my arms or legs and I realize that they were strapping me down. I whimper, my eyes filling with tears.

  My entire body trembles as tears fall down the sides of my eyes. I can’t stop myself from sobbing, even though I really don’t want to. I feel so weak, I should be stronger, but I’m not. You would think after knowing this was coming, after being warned for years, that I would be numb to all of this—I’m not.

  Then, something happens. The air around me shifts right before light pours in from the doorway and loud popping sounds ring out. I feel the straps being loosened, then I’m shifted from the table to someone’s lap.

  “You’re okay,” a deep voice rasps.

  Looking up, I realize that it’s Dylan. I open and close my mouth to say something, but I’m not sure what I want to say. He smiles and shakes his head. “Shhh,” he murmurs. “It’s all going to be okay, babe.”

  When the shooting stops, he shifts me from his lap and climbs out from beneath the table, there are men shouting all around us, but I can only see him as he crouches down in front of me, his arm extended, his palm up and waiting.

  “C’mon, babe,” he grunts.

  Reaching out, I slip my palm in his and stand. Other men rush around the room. He takes his cut and tosses it onto the floor as if it’s burning his skin. I’ve never seen someone treat their cut so poorly before and my eyes widen in surprise. Then he tugs his T-shirt off and slips it over my head.

  “Let me get you somewhere safe,” he murmurs.

  “My father?” I ask.

  “Don’t gotta worry about him, babe. Not ever again.”

  Licking my lips, I tilt my head back a little more and I watch him for just a moment before I speak. “Thank God,” I breathe.

  He smirks. “Not God, Pammy. Thank the Beasts.”

  Inhaling a deep breath, my lips curve up into a small smile. “Thank the Beasts.”

  “Fuck, yeah.”

  Chapter Two

  JAGUAR

  There is no welcoming party for me.

  There is nothing except angry glares and sneers.

  I don’t blame any of them at all. Looking back behind my shoulder, I watch as Pammy is escorted in the opposite direction of me and I let out a sigh of relief. It’s been a long hard ride from California to Eagar, but it’s all worth it if she’s safe.

  Silver drags me into the room where we hold church and shoves me forward. Before we reached the county line, my hands were tied behind my back with rope and I allowed it. I’ll allow just about anything in order to show them just how much I regret what I did.

  Stumbling, I catch myself before I hit the floor. A sound of a throat clearing has me lifting my head. I blink at the sight of Dragon at the head of the table, then I cringe at the sight of Eagle sitting next to him. His gaze is focused on me and nowhere else.

  I expect to see disgust and hate in Eagle’s gaze, but it’s not there. Instead, he looks almost indifferent as he watches me. A foot is pressed against the center of the back of my knees and I’m forced down.

  Unable to control my body, I fall down to my knees, then my face. Someone reaches for my hair and pulls me up to my knees. My head is screaming in pain, but I don’t make a single noise. There is no point.

  I have earned this.

  Nothing that the Savage Beasts could do to me is undeserving at this point.

  Whatever they dish out, I’ll eat it happily and eagerly just to be back. I am under no illusions that everything will ever be the way that it was again, however, I just want my family back. I want my brothers back. I want my life back.

  I fucked it up and although cunt was a factor, I can’t blame women for my own actions. I did what I did and I alone have to atone for that.

  “You got anything to say for yourself?” Dragon asks.

  I press my lips together and shift my gaze from Dragon to Eagle. It’s no secret me and Eagle never really got along, even before Della. Him going behind my back and claiming her, marrying her, it pissed me off. But I couldn’t see that she loved him, that he loved her. I couldn’t see that they are actually a much better fit than we ever could be.

  I couldn’t see any of it because I was lost in my selfishness. Lost in my anger, in my own pain. I was just plain fucking lost.

  My hair falls in front of my face, a new addition to the man that I am now, long hair. I never really let it get too long, but now it’s to my shoulders and I find that I like it.. My longer hair is just me now. It hides my face, and it allows me to hide, all at the same time.

  “You look beat the fuck down,” Dragon announces.

  Lifting my head, I look up at my president, at least I hope he’s still that. My gaze connects with his and I jerk my chin. This isn’t the time to be proud, to be anything but myself. Clearing my throat, I shake my head once and find his gaze again.

  “Just feel like a pile of shit, not necessarily beat down,” I say.

  Someone chuckles behind me. I don’t blame them. I’m a laughingstock. I am a pile of shit, I know it and everyone else in this room knows it too. Shifting my gaze from Dragon to Eagle, I watch him for a moment, but his expression hasn’t changed, I can’t tell what he’s thinking at all.

  Then, Eagle doesn’t make me continue to guess at his thoughts, he decides to break his silent stare and speak.

  “I could kill you, hombre,” he announces.

  Nodding my head once, I decide to stay quiet. Eagle is leaning back in his chair, his gaze still focused on mine, unmoving.

  “Della would hate that. She still holds guilt about what happened, even after you did what you did. She thinks she is somehow to blame for all this shit. She would be pissed and hurt if I killed you. I should do it anyway, I’m well within my rights,” he says, reminding me of my place and also reminding me that Della is his.

  I still choose to stay silent. This isn’t the time for me to speak, to plead my case. This is Eagle’s time to say his piece. I blink and watch him, waiting to see what he decides to say next. If he said kill me, Dragon would approve it. No vote needed.

  “You want to die or do you want to be here?”

  Inhaling a deep breath, it’s my turn to speak. What I don’t do is plead or beg. I know that it would make me look weaker than I already do and I look pretty goddamn weak right about now.

  “I’m under no illusion that I will ever truly be part of the brotherhood again,” I begin. “I fucked up. I let my anger and jealousy take over. I ignored the rules, and I selfishly tried to take the life of a man that was my brother. It was reckless, it was stupid, and it was selfish.”

  There’s a long moment of silence before Eagle speaks again. “You want back or do you want me to end you now?” he asks me again.

  “I wish that I could go back,” I say. “If I could, I would change so fucking much, but I can’t. If the club would allow me to try again, a second chance, I’d take it and never do anyone wrong again.”

  I can feel all of the men’s eyes on me. They are focused and looking nowhere else. Then Dragon clears his throat.

  “Lock him up. We’ll deliberate.”

  Hands wrap around my shoulders and pick me up from behind. I’m turned around and then pushed out of the room. Shifting my gaze through the bar, my eyes land on Pinkie and Pammy. She’s safe. I let out a breath of relief as I’m guided toward the holding room.

  We don’t use it often, as in fucking never. When the door to the room opens, my ropes are removed, and I’m pushed forward right before the door slams and I hear the lock being shifted into place.

  I don’t bother looking back, instead, I walk over to the window. There are
bars that have been welded into place. Lifting my hands, I curl my fingers around the iron bars and look out at the desertscape in front of me.

  Pammy is safe and alive, that’s all that matters. Even if I die tomorrow, I know that my brothers would at least keep her safe for as long as she needs protecting. They would do that because unlike the Punchers, they don’t hurt women like that.

  Dropping my head, I close my eyes and wonder what is going to happen next. They could kill me, they could end me, and there is nothing I could do to stop them. I wouldn’t either. I welcome any form of punishment they want to dish out.

  I snort to myself, thinking about my dad and how he would love this shit. He’d love to see me weak and helpless—worthless, just like he always said I was. I am too, always have been. I’ve been living in a dream world, playing pretend at being anything but a worthless piece of shit.

  PAMELA

  I watch in disbelief as the men drag Dylan away. Blinking, I look over to the woman across from me. She looks a lot like my mom, big boobs, big blonde hair, skinny waist. I can tell by the way that she’s dressed she isn’t an Old Lady. This is a whore.

  “You okay, honey? Is there anything I can get you?” she asks, her voice surprisingly sweet sounding.

  Shifting my eyes from Dylan, I turn to her. “What are they going to do to Dylan?” I ask as I turn my head to look in his direction again.

  Her brows pinch together and she follows my gaze. “Jaguar?” she asks. “Is that who you’re talking about?”

  Licking my lips, I watch as he disappears down a dark hallway before I turn back to her. “If that’s Dylan, then yeah,” I say.

  A wave of what looks like pity crosses her face. “Honey,” she whispers. “He probably won’t live to make it another day.”

  “What?” I breathe.

  She nods her head once. “He tried to kill one of his own. If he lives, I’d be surprised.”

  “But he’s good. He saved me,” I whisper.

  She shakes her head, her eyes finding mine and holding them. There is something in her gaze. She knows a lot, she’s seen a lot, she’s been through a lot.

  There is a deep sadness behind her eyes and it makes me want to know what caused it. She’s probably been to hell and back, I can see it lingering deep down inside of her. She’s a kindred spirit in her own way, but she holds it close to her and I’ll probably never know the depths of her pain.

  “He ain’t bad, but he’s done something unforgivable. You know the life, babe. You know the rules. They act like they don’t have them, but their rules are there and they are not to be broken.”

  She’s not wrong.

  Not at all.

  I open my mouth to say something, though I don’t know what I would even say when a beautiful blonde sinks down in the chair next to me and lets out a sigh. She’s holding a baby and he wriggles in her arms.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Pinkie warns.

  She snorts. “Like I’m going to let this all go down without me being near? Please.”

  “Still, if it goes down, you don’t need to see it,” Pinkie mutters.

  There is a long pause and then I feel something in my hair. Turning slightly, the baby has his fingers tangled in my hair and I smile at the dark-haired, beautiful boy. He smiles back, proudly showing me his four teeth and slobbery smile right before he yanks down on my hair—hard.

  “Santi, stop that,” the woman scolds as she peels his fingers from his tight grip on my hair.

  Turning my head, I really look at him. Giving him a smile, I tell him that it’s okay. He coos and throws his hands up in baby excitement.

  “I’m sorry, I was rude. I’m Della,” the woman offers with a smile.

  “I’m Pamela,” I say.

  She frowns before her gaze sweeps around the room. “Who are you?”

  “Della,” Pinkie hisses.

  Della shrugs a shoulder as if she hasn’t pried at all. “You’re the only clubwhore out here and I know that’s because you’re not just a clubwhore. None of the Old Ladies are hanging around and all of the men are… elsewhere. So, my question isn’t rude.”

  “Dylan brought me,” I announce.

  Pinkie looks down at the table, she doesn’t want this woman to know that Dylan brought me. It doesn’t seem like she wants this woman to know much about why I’m here or what’s going on.

  “Dylan?”

  “What did you call him, Pinkie? Jaguar?”

  I know the moment that I’ve said the wrong thing.

  Della scoots her seat back. Her eyes are wide and she looks almost horrified. I lick my lips and try to think of something to say, but I can tell she doesn’t want to hear anything. Her mind is going a mile a minute and she’s probably got enough happening inside of her own head.

  I’m not sure what she’s thinking or why, but I can’t look away from her. She’s watching me, her gaze flicking around and searching my face. I don’t know what she’s looking for and I’m not sure that she finds it, even when she speaks.

  “Jag brought you. He brought you here and you know his name?”

  Licking my lips, I look down to her little dark-haired boy, then lift my gaze to meet hers. “We aren’t anything. I don’t really even know him. He is just doing me a favor. He saved me.”

  I’m afraid that she’s his Old Lady, that this is his baby. I’m not exactly sure what’s going on, but it’s clear she’s not really excited about my presence, and the fact that I know his name. I don’t know what else to say, so I just make it clear that he’s not mine and I’m not his.

  “He saved you?” she whispers.

  Nodding, my eyes don’t leave hers. I can see the disbelief in her gaze. I want to tell her everything, I want to make sure that she knows just how wonderful he was. I want to assure her that I’m not his, that nothing happened, that I’ve never even seen him with another woman, not even a clubwhore, but I don’t get the chance.

  “He saved you?” she asks again, this time her voice a little louder.

  I open my mouth to respond to her, but I snap my lips closed when she stands and starts to pace. “He saved you. He tried to kill my husband,” she sneers. “Tried to kill him and he saved you?”

  I don’t know why I focus on the fact that she has a husband, and he isn’t Dylan. No, that’s a lie. I know exactly why I focus on that, but it doesn’t matter. I push that thought into the back of my mind and clear my throat.

  “All I know about him is what I’ve seen and I’ve only seen a good man who saved me,” I exhale.

  She shakes her head, then licks her lips. She’s trembling and I hate it. I want to comfort her. She’s a stranger, but I can tell that this affects her in ways that I will probably never understand. I get that though, there are things that affect me that nobody can understand—not ever.

  Chapter Three

  PAMELA

  Della opens her mouth, then her head jerks and she looks behind me. I don’t turn around, I have no doubt that there are men coming out of that room, the same room that they dragged Dylan from not long ago. I know what that room is too, their space for church, a space that I will never see and I’m perfectly content with that.

  “Della, what the fuck, nena?” a man curses as he walks over to her.

  I watch as he takes the baby from her arms and pats his back a few times, his attention solely on her. He has the baby, he’s not letting him go, but he is focused on Della. She looks from him to me, then back to him again.

  “He brought her here. He saved her?”

  The man shifts his gaze to me, then flicks it back to meet hers. “He did,” he confirms.

  “What did you decide?” she asks.

  “I haven’t.”

  I have no clue what they’re talking about, but I know that it is going to be life changing. I can feel it deep in my bones. All of this has been a complete life change, but this is different—this is bigger.

  So much bigger.

  “We’ll talk later, yeah?”

/>   “No,” she breathes. “This girl knows his name.”

  I don’t know what that means, if it’s supposed to mean anything, but the man turns to me again and his gaze travels down the entire length of my body before he shifts it back to Della. There is a moment of silence before he speaks.

  “Nena,” he says, his tone warning, but she either doesn’t realize it, or doesn’t care.

  “I need all of the information before you decide.”

  “You need all of the information?” he asks, raising a brow.

  She shrugs a shoulder. “He did it to both of us,” she says, her voice soft and almost injured sounding.

  “What did he do?” I hesitantly ask, interrupting their conversation.

  They both turn their heads, whipping them to the side and stare at me for a moment. “He tried to kill me,” the man announces.

  I gasp, lifting my hand to my mouth to cover my parted lips. I know that Della had already said that, but hearing it from him, having it truly confirmed hits me differently. My eyes widen as I watch them, my gaze shifting between them, wondering if I can believe them. Then, I look over to Pinkie. I silently ask her, and she dips her chin in an affirmative nod.

  “How?” I breathe.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Della says.

  The man shakes his head. “If she’s tied to him, she needs to know.”

  “I’m not—”

  He snorts, interrupting me. “You are, Jailbait, and that’s all good, but you need to know who he is.”

  I don’t say anything else. Instead, I press my lips together, dropping my hand as I watch him and wait. He doesn’t look away from me, his gaze is focused on me and nowhere else. He’s beautiful, in a very rough way, but looking into his eyes, I know without a doubt that he isn’t bad—he’s good.

  “He let his personal jealousy rule him. He decided I was taking something that he thought he owned. But can we own people?” he asks.