By Sophia Kenzie
Copyright © 2014 Hearts Collective
All rights reserved. This document may not be reproduced in any way without the expressed written consent of the author. The ideas, characters, and situations presented in this story are strictly fictional, and any unintentional likeness to real people or real situations is completely coincidental.
Also From The Blood of Cupids MC Series:
Blood of Cupids (The Blood of Cupids MC #1) by Sophia Kenzie
Also From Hearts Collective Publishing:
Impossibly (Dante’s Nine MC) by Colleen Masters
Imperfectly (Dante’s Nine MC) by Colleen Masters
Impulsively (Dante’s Nine MC) by Colleen Masters
Faster Harder (Take Me... #1) by Colleen Masters
Faster Deeper (Take Me... #2) by Colleen Masters
Faster Longer (Take Me... #3) by Colleen Masters
Faster Hotter (Take Me...#4) by Colleen Masters
DEDICATION
I'd like to dedicate this book to the following readers for taking time out of their busy lives to read my novel.
Thank you so much!
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BETRAYAL OF CUPIDS
The Blood of Cupids MC #2
by Sophia Kenzie
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
November 29th
Ryan,
I’ve been trying to write to you…
Yesterday…
When they pulled us away from each other…
Ryan, I am sorry. I’m sorry that coming into your life has caused so much pain and suffering. If I could take back the last few months, I would. I would never have come to Philly for school. I would never have snuck into your match. I would never have let my father find out about us. I would never have fallen in love with you.
But I can’t take it back. This is the life, the reality we’re stuck with. Our time together will be burned forever into my memory, and I don’t know if that’s something I can handle. For one, the memories of the pain will always haunt me, but more stinging will be the memories of our love, and the knowledge that it’s still out there, just waiting for me to find it again.
I try to convince myself that we’re too young to understand what we mean to each other, that time will tell, but I don’t feel young anymore. I feel worn, weathered, and wasted. I look at my scarred body and feel the weight of my decisions. I feel the loss of my mother, my father… the loss of you. You, Ryan, I lost you. And it hurts me so much.
I woke up last night reaching. I knew I was reaching for you. I want you to comfort me from my nightmares: both the ones while I’m asleep and those that I face when I’m awake. But I know that is selfish; you have your own pain to conquer.
That is why in this letter I should be saying ‘goodbye’. Ryan, I truly should. While the dream of us running away together seemed only too perfect in the moment, everything has changed. Our families need us, and they need us apart. I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to forget that fact.
But I need you. Nothing in my life makes sense without you. So while everything else in our situation might have changed, I hope you know my feelings for you never will. One day, one day, Ryan, we will be together, and this will all be behind us. I promise.
Goodbye, but only for now, Ryan. Know that I love you, today, tomorrow, and past the light.
~Your Grace
Grace
I am running. I don’t know from what, but I know the fear I feel is real. The sky darkens, and I can sense the rain is about to break free from the clouds. I need to find shelter, both from the downpour and from the thing that is chasing me. I can hear nothing, not even the sound of my feet hitting the ground. The silence causes my body to break out in a tremor of chills. I know I am not safe, but I can’t explain why. What is the cause of my uneasiness? Through the break in the trees, I see a hill up ahead. I think if I can just make it to the top, I’ll know what is going on. I’ll know why I’m running. I’ll know who I’m running from. I pick up speed, but the same ground stays beneath me. How is that possible? I do a double take, but it is certainly the same ground as before. I watch my feet move faster, bounding off the grass, but I cannot cover any distance. My body feels as though it’s stuck in molasses, and the more energy I exert, the slower I move. The hill is still before me, but I am stuck at the base. Although I know I have to, I cannot make it up. My chest tightens with the thought that there’s something I am missing. There’s something I have to do. I have a job¸ a task. What is it? Why can’t I remember? Why can’t I climb this hill?
I shot up out of bed, my arms outstretched before me. It must have been early evening, as I could see the cooling sun falling beneath the tree line from my bed. An old sycamore brushed its branches against the glass of my second story window. The sound was haunting, but familiar. I needed familiar. I needed something.
I hadn’t left my bed all day. The events of the previous night kept replaying over and over in my head. Had I not stormed out of Alexandria…Had I not gone straight to the Cupid’s clubhouse…Had I just run away with Ryan right then and there…Had I not been so selfish, had I made one different choice, my father would still be alive.
But I was, and he was not. I was selfish, and he paid the price with his life. I had to keep repeating those words to myself, trying to convince my stubborn mind that it was the truth. Patrick Brennan was gone. Patrick Brennan was never coming back. I may have been an adult, but I felt like an orphaned child. How could I go on?
I rolled from one side to the other, eventually forcing myself to sit up. Glancing over at my desk, I saw the scribbled note I had written Ryan during a brief stint of clarity earlier in the day. I had hoped that the letter would clear my mind, help me focus, but as soon as I signed my name, I lost that lucidity. The rest of the day was a fog. When would I stop feeling this way?
There was a small knock at my door. I didn’t want to speak, so I chose not to answer. The door creaked open despite my silence, and I saw Aunt Kathryn peek her head in. She looked tired, drained. Her bright blonde hair hung over her gaunt face in a way I had never seen before. She was wearing a Harley t-shirt and black leggings. My eyes were pulled down to her pink slippers. It seemed she hadn’t left the house all day.
She took two steps into my bedroom and stopped. “You awake?”
“For now,�
� I squeaked, refusing to make eye contact.
“There’s food.”
“I’m not hungry,” I fired at her.
Ignoring my tone, she tiptoed farther into my room, pushing the door closed behind her. Slowly, she lifted the blanket and crawled into bed with me. I wanted her to make it all better. I wanted to be reminded that there was a reason to keep going. I wanted her to hold me, but I couldn’t ask her to do any of that. I was on the verge of tears, and anything was likely to push me over the edge. Although I desperately wanted her warmth, I prayed for her not to touch me, for fear that I would break down.
“Gracie?”
“What?” I said softly as I tuned over, pulling the covers up to my chin. I felt as though I needed protection.
“He really did love you.”
I knew that. I really did know that, but one of my final memories of my father was the back of his hand across my cheek. My childish actions had angered him enough to lash out at me physically. I had never seen him react to me like that, but now that incident would color how I would always remember him. How would I get past that? My lips spread, and my eyes squeezed shut. I wanted it all to stop; there wasn’t much more I could take. I didn’t want any more tears. I just wanted to stop crying.
Aunt Kathryn curled up next to me, wrapping her arm around my upper body. I instantly tensed. Although her hugs had always made the pain go away, this time was different. I didn’t feel her warmth. I felt him. I was reminded of Sean Cassidy. I was reminded of the way he whispered his tortures into my ear. I was reminded of the way he grabbed me, forcing his mouth on mine. I was reminded of the knife he held to my neck—the same one he used to slice a line down my chest.
“No!” I rolled out of her grasp, collapsing onto the floor.
“Grace, what’s wrong?”
“Don’t touch me.”
My arms were up, guarding my body from anyone who might come close. After a few quick breaths, I was brought back to reality. The image of Sean was gone, leaving my frightened aunt sitting before me. She was just as broken as I, but in that moment, it wasn’t about me. She was asking me for comfort that I was unfortunately unable to give. For the first time in my life, we were the worst company for one another. I found my way to my feet, wrapping my arms around my shaking body. The weight was too much for my wobbly knees, and I tumbled back down to the floor. She didn’t say a word, but her eyes remained locked with mine. I wanted to apologize, to promise that I would find a way out of this daze, but the words never surfaced.
“I’m ready to wake up now,” I whispered.
She shook her head solemnly at me. “You are awake, Gracie. This is it.”
With a sharp intake of breath, I let the thought settle into my body. “In that case, I’m ready to go back to sleep.”
She nodded, lifting the blanket up to welcome me back into bed. I crawled into its warmth, facing Aunt Kathryn. A soft smile spread across her face.
“Sleep now, baby girl. Tomorrow you will have to leave this room.”
I closed my eyes, gladly welcoming the nightmares. Anything was better than my current reality.
Ryan
I threw open the door to my apartment. I thought I had said my final goodbye to that shithole, but there I was, back for more. I paced forward and back, trying to talk myself out of the nonsense running through my head.
“Fuck!”
I tore the posters off the walls. Glass shattered on the floor. It wasn’t enough. I dug my boot into the brokenness, begging to hear the sharp screech of the cracked glass. It made my fingers tingle, but it was oddly fulfilling.
I shuffled through the shattered pieces, kicking my way across the carpet. I flung my hands up against the wall, bouncing my forehead against the painted sheetrock. My foot shot forward. I didn’t mean to kick a hole in the wall, but maybe I did. I wanted it to hurt. I wanted it to hurt more than the emotional fuckery spinning through my body.
I hated Sean. I hated Sean for everything, for my entire life. Had the gang not pulled me out of that mess, I would’ve gone after him. That bastard didn’t even have the balls to face us after what he did. He just disappeared. He killed my Pops and then walked away. And sure, maybe in the strongest sense of the word, it was an accident, but he didn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt. He dug his grave with me a long time ago, and if it was the last thing I ever did on this earth, I would be the one to put him into it.
But then there was Grace. I couldn’t shake the image, the memory of her as we were torn apart. She looked lost, empty. Because of me, her world was shaken. I wondered what she was doing at that moment. Was she hurting the way I was hurting? Did we share the same pain? I cursed the guys for pulling us away from each other. She needed me. Fuck it; I needed her.
I let my body fall back, crashing onto my bed. I closed my eyes. Maybe I could just sleep through this part, I thought. Maybe I’d be able to wake up and not feel this way anymore, but as my eyelids dropped, I was brought back to the torture of the night before.
“It’s the police!”
“We have to get out of here!”
“Everyone meet at Rocket’s pad!”
It was all happening in slow motion. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that Pops was not getting up. Why was he still lying there? Why was I being dragged away from him? And what about Grace? No, I needed her there with me. I didn’t want to have anything to do with this. But she was gone. They took her. They took my Grace. The sound of the bikes roared around me. Why was I in a car?
“Why the cage? Where’s my bike?”
“Dude.” It was a familiar voice, but I couldn’t place it. Everything around me was spinning. “We have to get you sewed up before you can ride.”
Sewed up? I looked down at my shirt. Blood. There was blood everywhere. Why did I still feel nothing?
We all pulled up to Rocket’s townhouse, just a few blocks away from the one where I grew up. The roar of the engines died, and I was escorted up the stairs. No one trusted me to handle my own body. Or maybe in that state, I physically couldn’t handle my own body? Nevertheless, it was a good call. I had no idea what was happening around me.
Everyone crowded in to the living room, Rocket directing the club members to the kitchen and bathroom as he made space for everyone to sit. He held on to me. He sat me down. He was a good guy.
“Rocket, everything all right?” I heard a sweet voice say from behind me.
“Go back to bed, baby. I’ll tell you about it in the morning.”
Rocket’s ol’ lady nodded knowingly and made her way upstairs. She was beautiful. Her jet-black hair framed her long, mysterious face, highlighted her pale blue eyes. Her pouty lips drew you in as she formed every syllable of every word. If that weren’t enough, her voice purred. I had obviously fantasized about her in the past, but the fantasy currently spinning through my confused head was of Grace. This woman who had been the reason for my first wet dream was nothing compared to the woman who was pulled from me that night: my innocent Grace. With her I saw my future. I saw past the bullshit of my youth and the nonsense of my life of crime. With her, I could have a real life.
But Grace was taken from me, and I had no idea when I would see her again. I felt the fire of envy burning in the pit of my stomach. As I watched Rocket’s ol’ lady climb the stairs, my jealousy consumed me. Rocket had someone to confide in. He had a partner with whom he could share the pains of the day, of his life.
I was alone. I would go home alone. I would wake up alone.
“Ryan… Ryan?”
I heard my name being called, but I couldn’t respond. I lifted my eyes to the voice.
“Stay with us. This is going to hurt.”
What was going to hurt? I heard the crunch of the scissors. They were cutting my shirt. Rocket was standing above me holding a cheap bottle of vodka. He pulled the pour spout off with his teeth, and I felt the searing sting as soon as the liquid splashed on my chest.
“Fuck me!” Even through the cloud, the
pain was not dulled.
“I know buddy. You’re just going to have to suck it up a little longer.”
That’s when I felt something piercing through my skin. I tried to move, but they were holding me down. The stillness only made the pain more real.
“Ryan… Ryan…” It was Rocket. I knew it was Rocket. “I just gotta sew this up. You’re going to be okay.”
I felt my consciousness slipping. The people in front of me blurred until they disappeared. But I could still feel… at least for a little longer.
“He’s waking up.”
My heavy eyes blinked open. I must have passed out from the pain. The pain… I still felt the pain. I was handed two large pills and a glass of water. I didn’t ask questions. Rocket lifted my head. Everyone was gathered around. Why was everyone around? Oh right. Pops… Pops was gone. They were looking to me for guidance, and, I’m sure, to see how long it would take for me to crack. I figured I should probably address the hoard of people around me, let them know I hadn’t already succumbed to the latter.
“Rocket, I want to say something to everyone.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
I wasn’t. My first choice would’ve been to sit in silence. Unfortunately, that was not an option. No, I would have to face this. I would have to stand up. I would eventually have to address my club. Why wait any longer?
I tried to stand.
“No, buddy, you’re going to stay there.”
I didn’t argue with Rocket, simply nodded and prepared to continue. I looked around the room, ready to speak. The group was silent. I inhaled shallowly, as my body would not allow any more breath to enter.
“I’m shocked. I think that’s the best word to describe it. Yes. Shocked. Sean betrayed his family tonight and left us without our president. And while I may have been his only biological son, tonight we all lost our father.” I wasn’t sure where I was finding the words, I hated speaking in front of people, but I wasn’t about to question my sudden affinity for speech. I let it flow. “James Cassidy was a good man. Hell, he was a great man. I can’t imagine the work it’s going to take to live up to his expectations, his hopes for us as a group, but I promise you this: I will spend every minute of the rest of my life making him proud.”
Betrayal of Cupids Page 1
