by J, Bella
Ink let out a half attempt at a laugh. “Dude, I won’t lie. It feels good slicing my blade across these fuckers’ throats, hearing them gargle and choke on their own fucking blood. But you and I both know you need this just as much as I do, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.” He eyed me pointedly. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be keeping this a secret from the rest of the club. You’re afraid they won’t agree and end up forcing us to stop by voting against it at church. Especially Dutch.”
I shrugged. “True. But something tells me we won’t get any shit from the others by doing this. Everyone is hurt because of what happened. Not just us.”
Ink got up and placed his knife back in his pocket. “Tell them, then. Tell the rest what we’ve been doing the last few nights, and that we’ve buried five Pythons already. Just remember, you’re the president. I’m not. No matter what they vote, I’m not stopping until my blade is jammed in Slither’s spine. I won’t stop, Granite. Even if it means costing me my seat at the goddamn table.”
I got up and walked over, not in the least bothered by the fact that I was stepping in a dead man’s blood. I placed my hand on his shoulder. “I swear to you that Slither will burn in hell for what he did. And nothing or no one will take your place at the Kings table. You got it?”
Ink’s lips were pulled in a straight line, and up close it seemed like he had aged years over the last few days. “I want to be the one who does it.”
“Does what?”
“I want to be the one who sends that motherfucker to hell. Me. Can you promise me that?” The determination in his eyes, and the way his face remained stone as he stared at me, told me there was only one thing that would ultimately make him able to breathe again. It was the same thing that had been paving this path we had been on for years.
Revenge.
At that moment, there wasn’t anything I wanted more than to be the one who drove a knife through that bastard’s black heart. But Ink needed it more than I did, and my guys were more important to me than my need to spill blood.
“You have my word.”
He slapped his hand on my shoulder. “Thanks, bro. Just,” he scrunched his nose, “let’s not ever talk about my place in the club like it’s some fucking King Arthur movie, okay? Good God,” he brushed past me, “referring to it as my place at the table sounds all kinds of wrong.”
I let out a laugh. “You started it.”
“Yeah, well…I make it sound cool. You just fucked it up when you said it.”
“Good to know you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”
He glanced over his shoulder with a cocked brow. “Sense of humor? Dude, I could not be more serious right now.”
I smirked. One thing was for sure—our club would not be the same without this man.
“Yo, Ink.”
“Yeah?” He turned to face me.
“I’ll make this right for her. For Neon.”
He nodded. “Nah, man. You got it wrong. We’ll make it right for her.” With that, he left. I stayed behind, listening as he made the call to send a clean-up crew.
I glanced down at my hands, blood stuck in the corners of my nails. Like every one of these fuckers we tortured and killed, I had Neon’s blood on my hands as well. And in some poetic way, Alyx’s too.
For a moment, I closed my eyes, thinking of how it felt to be with her, against her, inside her. It felt better than I ever could have imagined. Being president of one of the biggest motorcycle clubs in New York didn’t make me feel as powerful as it did when she finally surrendered herself to me. For a hardened man like myself, those moments with her, experiencing that euphoria was the closest I’d ever get to feeling the kind of emotion that stemmed from a person’s soul. God! I didn’t want it to fucking end. But it did. Badly.
Deep down, I had always known the day would come when I’d ruin my pretty ballerina girl. But I took her anyway, corrupted her, then tore her apart. I couldn’t stop myself because I wanted her too much.
Selfish fucker.
I took a deep breath while pulling my fingers through my hair. These metaphorical walks down memory lane were crushing me, slowly killing me like some wretched disease without a cure. But I deserved it. I deserved to be haunted and tortured by memories, which was why I’d never let myself forget.
Ink and I got back to the safe house before dawn. Of course, after silently pushing our motorcycles to the back of the house, Onyx was sitting on the porch waiting for us.
“Fun night?”
Ink and I glanced at each other, and I looked back at my brother. “Maybe.”
“Where’d you go?”
“Out.”
I paused in front of Onyx, and Ink casually took a seat next to him, lighting himself a cigarette. “She had to be a lousy lay for you to be up at the crack of dawn.”
Onyx glared at Ink before turning his attention back to me. “I know what you’re doing.”
I kicked at the dirt. “Yeah, and what’s that?”
“You’re fucking up Pythons, aren’t you?”
“What makes you think that?”
Onyx turned to face Ink. “Because there’s no way in hell you’d be able to hide your rage if you weren’t purging somehow. So, look me in the eye and tell me you’re not fucking up Pythons.”
Ink smirked at Onyx. “You bet your motherfucking ass we’re fucking up Pythons.”
“Ink,” I started, but he held up his hand while still looking Onyx in the eye.
“You want in?”
Onyx continued to stare at Ink for a few seconds. “Fuck, yeah.”
“Great.” Ink got up then turned toward me. “You know where to find me.”
I nodded, and he went inside the house. Son of a bitch didn’t even think twice about telling Onyx the truth. And within five seconds, Ink managed to get my little brother on board this shit show with us.
Onyx got up and stepped toward me. “I knew you were hiding something.”
“I wasn’t hiding it.” I stomped on my cigarette and brushed past him, not in the mood for another argument.
“Granite.”
I stopped. “What?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t think I had to.”
“Bullshit.”
I turned to face him. “This is not your fight.”
“Are you serious?” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you for real right now? Of course, this is my fight. This is all of our fight. Especially now.”
Pressing my fist against my chest, I glared at him. “This is my doing. I caused this, so this is my fight. Not yours.”
“Then why is Ink on it too? Why are you letting him in?”
“Because it’s the only way to keep his rage from consuming him.”
Onyx pulled his hair out of his face, cheeks red and eyes wild. He took a deep breath. “I know you and I have had our differences. And we don’t always see eye to eye. But you are still my brother, Granite. I still love you. And I can’t stand to watch you carry this burden alone.”
“It’s my burden to carry.”
“No, it’s not.” He shook his head. “No one blames you. Not even Ink blames you for what happened.”
“She does.” I bit my lip as the words left my mouth, Onyx’s stone expression softening a little.
“Only because she doesn’t know. She doesn’t understand. But once you tell her—”
“No.” I cut him off mid-sentence. “She doesn’t have to know anything.”
“What? Why? Granite, Alyx is busy killing herself over this.”
I snorted. “The only reason she’s unhappy is because of me. Because of what I let happen.”
Onyx let out a laugh that sounded more manic than sincere. “God, you’re fucking clueless. Dude, as much as she blames you, she’s blaming herself for what happened to Neon.”
I balked. “What?”
“Yeah.” He raised a brow. “The way Alyx sees it, if it wasn’t for her and this fucking obsession you have with her—”
“Oh, yeah,” he tapped his finger against his chest, “I know. In fact, everyone fucking knows that your idea to use Alyx was never just about avenging Dad’s death. Rule number one, big brother—never underestimate your team. It’s insulting.”
I rested my elbows on my knees, rubbing my fists together while avoiding eye contact with Onyx. “None of this is Alyx’s fault. I don’t know why she’d even think that.”
Onyx stepped forward. “Because she has a heart. She sees things differently than we do. We’re a bunch of thick-skinned, hard-assed criminals who learned how to thrive in a cruel world. But Alyx? She’s part of that little bit of good that’s left in the world, Granite. So, when bad shit happens, it poisons her because she’s…Jesus”—he took a breath—“because she’s…pure.”
I regarded my brother, watching his face while he spoke about her. I’d be blind not to see it. “You have feelings for her, don’t you?”
“What?” He froze. “No.”
I got up and straightened. “Cut the bullshit, Onyx. I’ve seen the way you look at her. I’ve seen you going to her room, checking up on her. As you said, we’re thick-skinned, hard-assed criminals. And we don’t go around caring for people out of the goodness of our hearts. You care for Alyx.”
His silence was all the answer I needed. In fact, I didn’t need him to say anything. I knew it was true. I knew it even before the shit hit the fan with Neon and Slither. Onyx cared for her the second he pulled the trigger that night, killing the guy holding a gun to her head. Couldn’t say I blamed him. Alyx had this pull to her, like a magnetic field that was too strong to fight. She was this fragile little thing, yet somehow she was bigger than all of us. Onyx knew it. I knew it. Even Neon knew it.
Onyx bit his lower lip, sucking it into his mouth as if he were trying to stop the words from coming out. Glancing in the other direction, he tucked his hair behind his ears before facing me again. “You’re right. I do care about her, and the man in me hates that she’s hurting because of you.”
Jesus Christ, I couldn’t even open my mouth because I was too busy fighting the urge to knock his motherfucking teeth out. All I could do without losing my shit was flare my nostrils while slowly tearing him apart with a glare.
Onyx smirked, as if he knew I was teetering on the edge of turning savage on my own blood. He wiped his palm down his face. “But don’t worry, brother. I’m not going to let history repeat itself. You know why?”
“Enlighten me,” I gritted out with a clenched jaw.
“Because this time I’m smart enough to realize she belongs to you. And this time I’m man enough to walk away without resenting you for it.”
My anger went from boiling to simmering, slowly turning down the heat searing my veins. Onyx and I had history that spread far from being mere brothers.
We once loved the same girl, and neither of us was willing to let go. It wrecked us both and left scars in our relationship that would probably never go away. But it didn’t destroy the bond we shared—not completely, anyway. Hearing my brother admit he had feelings for Alyx was a hard pill to swallow. But the fact that he would walk away so easily earned him my respect as a brother, and as a man.
I approached him, holding out my hand for a handshake. He eyed me cautiously before placing his hand in mine, pulling us together for a one-armed hug and a pat on the shoulder.
I leaned back. “I appreciate that, brother. But this time,” I swallowed hard, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, “this time I’m the one who should be man enough to walk away.”
As I tried to turn around, Onyx grabbed my elbow. Instinctively, I glared down at where his fingers curled around my arm, his grip tight. Threatening.
He stepped forward, eyes almost level to mine. “Listen to me, and you better listen good,” he said with a low snarl. “I’ve always walked in your shadow, always stayed one step behind you, letting you do what you thought best even if I disagreed. But not now. Not when it concerns her.” His grip tightened. “You don’t get to walk away, Granite. That girl is your responsibility. You wanted her. Well, now you have her, and you better man up, grow some motherfucking balls, and get over this shitty guilt trip you’re on. Because that girl in there,” he pointed toward the house, “that girl needs you, even if she doesn’t fucking know it yet.” He let go of my arm with a jerk, jaw clenched and eyes determined. “I won’t let you make the same mistake twice by taking the coward’s way out and not doing the right thing.”
Onyx left, walking into the house. If he was any other man, I would have smashed his skull against the goddamn pavement. But he wasn’t just any other man. He was my brother, and no matter how much I wanted to tell him that he’d been spitting bullshit from his mouth the last five minutes, I couldn’t. Because it wasn’t bullshit. Everything he said was the truth, and it knocked me in the chest, radiating right to the black hole where my heart should have been.
Onyx was right…but that didn’t mean I’d listen.
5
Alyx
I stared at the door. Onyx didn’t turn the lock when he left. But unlike the first time they stuck me in a room against my will, I had no desire to open the door and find a way out. What difference would it make whether I was in here or out there? I’d still feel like shit. I’d still be guilt-ridden and rotten. It made no difference where I was. Nothing would change. Besides, if I managed to escape, I’d merely be going from one prison to the next. At home, I’d be confined to the prison my mother created, and she’d hover and smother me like she always did. At least here I was free to wallow in my own despair and sit in a dark pit of my choosing…not hers.
I thought about what Onyx said, that I’d always belong to Granite. Like a possession, a thing that could be kept and locked up. It was ironic, really, because that was exactly what I was. Kept and locked up. But then I thought about my nightmare where I was hanging from a ceiling like a slaughtered pig, just like Neon did. The fear. The horror. The panic. I felt it all as if it was really happening. I was there, I took her place, and it was the most terrifying thing I’d ever experienced. I could practically still feel my back burning from the iron hooks sliced through my skin. And when I closed my eyes, I still saw the grotesque mutilated face of my tormentor. The sound of his voice. It was so vivid, I had to keep reminding myself it was only a nightmare. But then I remembered how I called out for Granite. How I hoped he would save me. The thought of him rescuing me was like a lifeline for me while I hung from those chains. Why would I feel that? Why would I want Granite to save me, or even think he would? He didn’t save Neon. Why would he save me? Still, he was right there in my mind with the part where I had hope for the torture to end. Was I still connected to him in some sordid, twisted way? Was his name still lingering in my heart even after what he did, what he allowed to happen? How was that possible? How could I still feel for him now that I knew what kind of monster he truly was?
My stomach griped. I clutched my arms around my abdomen and hunched over while I sat on the bed. The ache was everywhere as the hunger pangs became stronger. The headache throbbing at my temples and above my eyes was getting worse, and my mouth was dry, like I had swallowed sand.
I glanced at the bottle of water Onyx had left, and the sight alone increased my thirst fourfold. So I reached out, and the sound of the seal breaking as I twisted the cap resonated in the quiet room. I emptied that bottle of water within ten seconds flat. The cold liquid stung my empty stomach but quenched my thirst, and the sandy feeling was gone.
Placing the empty bottle back on the bedside table, I glanced at the bathroom. There was no door or entry hidden with closet doors. It was just an opening in the wall leading to the bathroom.
I eyed the tub, which was right across from the entry. It wasn’t nearly as pretty as the bath I had in my other prison cell where they first kept me. It seemed old, smaller, and a little discolored.
When was the last time I had a bath or a shower? I couldn’t
remember. And, frankly, I didn’t care. Since I was rotten on the inside, I might as well be filthy on the outside.
The door opened behind me, and a rush of heat flooded through me—from the back of my neck right down to my heels.
It was him. I knew it. I could feel it.
I closed my eyes. “Go away, Granite.”
The door closed, but I knew he hadn’t left. My skin was still prickling with his presence.
Silence filled every open space in the room, yet it was deafening, laden with unspoken words. The longer the silence remained, the harder I had to work at holding back my tears.
“Please leave.” My voice was soft and held no conviction. In that moment, I was hanging from that ceiling again, hooked to chains and possessed by pain…but relieved because he finally came. He came to save me. He came to take away the pain.
If only…
A tear slipped down my cheek. It was amazing how he could trigger these emotions in me merely by being close. He didn’t have to say a word. He didn’t have to touch me. He simply had to stand there and breathe.
I wiped at my cheek with the back of my hand. “Granite, please leave.” My voice was louder this time, sorrow slowly building my strength.
Nothing. Not a word.
I clutched my stomach tighter, heartache spreading everywhere, filling every crack, threatening to shatter me into a million pieces. I didn’t want to break in front of him. Not again. But I couldn’t stop it. This man managed to engrave himself on my soul, penetrating every part of my being, consuming me to a point where breaking was the only way to get a little relief from constantly trying to fight it. To fight him.
“Please,” I whispered as a tear rolled over my lips and I could taste my own sadness. “It hurts too much to be close to you.”
Pain built its way through every bone in my body until it finally erupted. I shot up.
“Please leave!” My voice slammed against the walls, anger echoing from my words. I turned around, ready to lash at him, only to find he wasn’t there. He was gone. He left, and I stood there staring at the closed door. Alone, hurt, and hating myself for being disappointed that he was no longer there.
