by J, Bella
My lips quivered, and I finally allowed the sorrow to consume me. It demanded tears. So many tears, I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t want to stop it. I wanted to crack and break in ways that would make it impossible to be put back together. That way I wouldn’t ever have to fight again. I wouldn’t ever have to try to scrape together every ounce of strength in order to survive. I could just give up, and not feel anything ever again. If I didn’t feel, I couldn’t long for something or someone I had lost—that was, if I ever had it in the first place. I’d simply be a void in a world thriving on pain and agony.
Burying my face in my palms, I continued to sob, the heartache throbbing like an open sore.
Images of him, of me, of us together flashed through my mind, and the memory of being with him worsened the pain tenfold. It made everything worse because I loved it. I missed it. And I wanted it again. I wanted to be with him, and I hated myself for it. Wanting him still made me weak. It made me pathetic. Most of all, it made me a fucking hypocrite because I longed for the man who tainted me with the blood of another.
God. How was I going to survive this? Was there ever going to be an ending to all this?
I wasn’t strong enough.
I wasn’t strong enough to fight him…or the hold he had on my heart. No matter what kind of devil he was.
6
Granite
Leaning against the door, I listened to her cries. Every tear she shed was like a hot knife slicing through my flesh. Every cry, every whimper had me bleeding on the inside, slowly rotting and dying.
When I walked into the room and my gaze fell on her fragile form, all I wanted to do was take her in my arms and carry her away—far away from all of this. I wanted to soothe her, comfort her, take care of her. But I couldn’t. I was the reason she was broken in the first place. If it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t have been feeling all that pain right now.
Even through the thin fabric of the clothes she wore, I could see the bones of her shoulders protruding. Her arms were thin enough for me to wrap my fingers around, and her hair was a mess of dirty strands. She was in hell…because of me.
I stood inside that room, silently, listening to her soft whimpers, her rapid breaths. Being so close to her yet unable to touch her was the worst kind of agony a man like me had ever felt. I’d taken bullets, survived blades and punches. But her pain was something I wasn’t sure I’d be able to survive. It was too much, so I left, a bigger mess than when I went in.
“Fuck,” I whispered while leaning my head to the side and closing my eyes.
“You need to tell her.”
Startled, I looked around and saw Onyx standing at the end of the hall. “You need to tell her, Granite.”
“No.” I stomped off in the other direction. Onyx followed.
“She’s going to kill herself over this. You know that, right?”
“She won’t. This will all be over soon.”
“How?” He grabbed my elbow, and this time I swung around, balling my fist, ready to punch him. But I managed to stop myself in time, biting my bottom lip.
“Stop,” I warned him. “Just…stop.”
“I’m sorry, brother. But this time I won’t stop until you do the right fucking thing.”
“Don’t.”
A threatening grin spread across his face. “Not this time. You tell her, or I will.”
I lost it. His threat pushed me over the edge, and I grabbed his throat, slamming his back into the wall, digging my fingers into his neck while pinning his shoulder with my other hand. “If you so much as breathe in her direction, I will kill you. I swear to God, I’ll drive my knife through your heart and feel nothing.” My jaw clenched, nostrils flared, anger resonating from every pore.
“Why the fuck won’t you tell her? She needs to know the truth. How in God’s name can you not see that?”
I let go of him with a jerk, snarling like a goddamn animal. Rage made it impossible for me to put words together. God knew it took every ounce of self-control I had to stop myself from beating my own brother.
“Granite, I don’t get it, man. Telling her will end all of this. Why the fuck—” He paused and narrowed his eyes, staring at me like he managed to catch a glimpse inside my head, hearing my every thought. “You’re afraid.” His eyebrows slanted inward. “You’re afraid she’ll forgive you.”
“What?”
“That’s it, isn’t it? You’re afraid if she knows the truth, she’ll forgive you. You can’t deal with that thought because you can’t forgive yourself.”
I wiped my beard with the back of my hand. “Fuck off, Onyx. Get out of my head and mind your own fucking business.”
“That’s the problem, Granite. It’s not just your fucking business. If it affects the club, it’s all of our business.”
“Not her,” I retaliated. “She’s no one’s fucking business except mine.” I took a step forward, holding a finger in his face. “Stay away from her. I mean it.”
I turned and saw Ink standing behind us. But I only glanced at him before brushing past. If I didn’t leave now, I’d end up smashing my brother’s jaw into pieces.
As I was about to exit the basement, Ink called out, “Onyx is right.”
I stopped but didn’t turn to face him.
“Onyx is right. She needs to know.”
I rolled my shoulders, moving my head side to side to loosen the strain in my neck. The thought of her knowing sent a crawling sensation up my spine that felt all kinds of wrong. “No.” One simple word, and I walked off. But when I got to the top of the stairs, Dutch was waiting for me.
“I think it’s time for a meeting, don’t you?”
“Dutch—”
“Granite. We need to talk about this.” He glanced over my shoulder to Onyx and Ink. “All of us do.”
My jaw clenched, and I bit my lip. Fuck. I didn’t need a goddamn degree to figure out they were about to vote against me. Even though my word was law, I’d never voted against my entire crew. Neither had my father. Would this be the first?
“Fine,” I conceded with a growl. “We wait for Manic, then we can have our meeting.” I brushed past Dutch, and Manic chose that exact fucking moment to walk through the front door. Jesus. Was the universe that desperate to fuck me in the ass?
“What about a meeting?” Manic stared at me questioningly, and then at Dutch. “What’d I miss?”
Dutch stepped in next to me. “We need to discuss the current situation with Alyx and—”
“My vote is we tell her,” Manic said, as if it was as obvious as the sun rising in the east.
“Great.” I held my arms out wide as I spun around. “Seems like you all agree.”
Dutch nodded. “We do. Listen, Granite. We are all aware of your personal situation with Alyx.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I snapped.
“It means we know this is no longer just a war between rival clubs fighting over turf and business. It’s personal now, after what happened with Neon…for all of us.” He stepped up, closer to me. “And it’s personal for you because of Alyx. We get that, and we don’t judge. Right, guys?” he called over his shoulder, and they all agreed firmly.
“But,” Onyx started, “this has gone on long enough, and Alyx needs to know. The woman is slowly wasting away.”
“I agree,” Ink chimed in. “Besides. She’s going to find out sooner or later.”
I let out a sarcastic laugh. “So this is what an ambush feels like.”
“No. It’s not an ambush.” Onyx lit his cigarette. “But if you’re completely honest with yourself, and push that guilt trip you’re constantly on aside, you’ll realize it’s the right fucking thing to do.”
Dutch, Onyx, Manic, and Ink all stared at me like they were waiting for me to announce world fucking peace. They were right. I knew that. But besides my own guilt keeping me from doing the right thing, I wasn’t sure if she was ready. I wasn’t sure Alyx was ready to handle the truth—especially since it wasn’t pretty.
<
br /> “She’s not ready,” I said simply. “Alyx isn’t ready. She’s too weak.”
“Don’t underestimate her, Granite.” He blew out some smoke. “I think she’s proven to be much stronger than we all thought.”
“You said it yourself, Onyx. She’s wasting away. She won’t eat because of what she thinks is the truth. What the fuck do you think will happen when she sees it?”
“I don’t know, man. But I’m pretty sure it will be ten times better than it is right now.”
In a bid to avoid eye contact with any of them, I glanced around the room. Leather couches, dark gray walls, and charcoal marbled tiles on the floor. This house was any minimalist’s dream…and currently this situation was a goddamn nightmare—for me. The longer I stood there, the more it felt like the walls were closing in on me. And knowing she was there too, trapped between four walls, suffering…it was suffocating me, squeezing every ounce of breath from my lungs.
“I can’t think.” I grabbed the keys to my bike from the table next to the front door. “I’m going for a ride. Maybe I’ll be able to fucking think without you fuckers staring at me.”
They didn’t stop me. They knew better than to try. Fucking with the devil when he was on the edge of exploding was like playing with the lion’s balls. You’d get torn and chewed up within seconds.
Dutch silently followed me out to the garage. He never let me ride alone. Ever. But that didn’t bother me. He knew me long enough to know not to fucking talk, and to keep his distance while he played bodyguard around me.
I put my lid on and climbed on my Harley. The start of the engine roared, and it instantly calmed the blood burning in my veins. There was nothing like controlling a beast between your legs, the vibration and sound of pipes singing to your soul while the freedom to soar into the unknown calmed your anger and cleared your mind.
I looked at Dutch, and he nodded. A silent sign of comradery, respect, and support.
No matter what I decided.
7
Alyx
The water felt soft against my skin. Warm and soothing. I couldn’t remember the last time I took a bath. After Granite had disappeared on me earlier, I had to do something to try to settle my mind, my thoughts.
Looking down at my naked body stretched in the tub, it was visible even to me that I had lost more weight. Mommy dearest would have been proud to see her daughter starve herself, no matter what the reason.
I banished the thought of her as quickly as it popped into my head. There was no way I’d be able to deal with those demons as well while I fought another devil.
The hairs on my legs were longer than they’d been in years. Shaving wasn’t exactly a priority while you were kidnapped and held prisoner. Personal grooming was the farthest thing from my mind.
I turned my leg to the side, looking at the tattoo on my inner thigh. It healed well, the scabs gone, and the skull was perfect…unlike its leader.
The tattoo made me think of Red. My best friend. She was probably going out of her mind already. How long had it been? How long was it since they took me—since I got plummeted into the darkest corner of the devil’s lair?
Days? Weeks? Months? Probably not months. But it seemed like forever.
I closed my eyes, trying to think of my life before all this happened. It was weird, but I couldn’t remember much. All I saw was him. Granite. Everywhere. Even when reaching for the most distant memory, all I saw was him. His face. All I felt was him, his touch, his kiss. It was like he had always been there. As if he had always been the center point in my life. The harder I tried not to think of him, the more he ended up possessing every corner of my mind. Even Neon’s friendly face and blue hair started to retreat to the background, making way for the president of the American Street Kings.
A ruthless leader.
A merciless ruler.
A cruel king.
I was in love with a man without a heart. I had given my body and my soul to a man who was incapable of feeling anything. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have been so reckless with my heart by giving it to a man who cherished nothing? Not even life.
Tears slipped down my cheeks. I’d been crying so much I hardly noticed the wet droplets of sorrow anymore.
I slipped down, pulling my head under the water. For those few seconds, I was numb, water rushing into my ears muffling out the sound of my breathing. Everything felt so far, like the water had the power to distance me from the world. But it didn’t take away the image of his face, and it didn’t numb the way my heart ached for him. Problem was, my heart ached for Neon too. When I was stuck in that nightmare, taking Neon’s place on the hooks, I was terrified. I had never been so scared in my life. I could only imagine what it had been like for her as reality. For her, it wasn’t just a nightmare. It was real.
Unable to stomach the thought, I pushed myself up and out of the water, wiping my hair back as I dried my face with my palms. When I opened my eyes, I knew he was there.
“You’re back,” I murmured without looking at him.
He didn’t say anything. Like earlier, he was just there, his presence taking up every last space in the room.
I brushed my cheek against my shoulder, closing my eyes again. “Will you say something this time?”
Silence.
I let out a breath, trying to relieve a little of the ache that throbbed inside my chest. For a moment, I concentrated on him, his presence, trying to bathe myself in it. Maybe even lose myself in it. All this time, I was nothing but a fool trying to convince myself that I hated him, but the truth was…I hated the thought of never being with him again more.
I heard his footsteps. Slow. Loud. Coming closer. I didn’t dare open my eyes. I was afraid he’d disappear again, and I didn’t want him to leave. I hated that I didn’t want him to leave.
With my cheek still against my shoulder, legs pressed against my chest, I remained still. “Please say something.”
Silence…and then…
“I’m sorry…ballerina girl.”
Sobs erupted out of nowhere. The sound of his voice was so close, I could feel the warmth of his breath on my wet skin, and it hurt. It hurt so much, it was like the pain tried to break free from my bones.
“I’m so sorry.”
Water slowly trickled over my shoulder and down my spine. Soft, gentle, as if he was trying to soothe me. Comfort me. Silently washing away my pain.
I opened my eyes, my sight blurry with sorrow. But when I looked into his eyes, those beautiful green irises with amber specks of strength, I realized how truly lost I was. I was lost within the world of a man who possessed me mind, body, and soul. A cruel man. A ruthless man. A man who led the way to my ruin. Yet here I was, fully aware that no matter how much I wanted to hate him, I didn’t. Resisting him was only temporary—it had always been only temporary.
After a few deep breaths, I started weeping again. The moment was too powerful for me to even try to stay strong. I couldn’t. Not with him so close, crouched beside the tub and staring right at me. Dark, disheveled curls had been tied in a messy bun. His beard was still as unruly as ever, menace oozing out of every pore even while we found ourselves in such a vulnerable moment. But instead of fearing him like I knew I should, I wanted him. I wanted him to take away the pain, the uncertainty…just like I wanted him to save me in my nightmare.
“Granite,” I whispered, “it hurts.” I sniffed. “Make it stop…please.”
More tears poured like a river of agony, but he didn’t say a word. All he did was drip a handful of water down my back, over and over again, like he was trying to wash away every bad thing that had ever happened to me.
I leaned to the side, reaching for his arm, pulling it closer as I nestled my face into the crook of his elbow, crying. The familiar smell of cedarwood mixed with nicotine was comforting, yet it woke a new kind of ache inside me. And when his fingertips gently traveled down my spine on his way to scoop more water into his palm, my body shivered. His touch took me
back to the night when I surrendered, finally embracing the darkness of what I felt for him. I couldn’t say it was light, because it wasn’t. Whatever it was between us, it was dark, dirty, raw…and unstoppable. Not even death could stop it.
His other hand wrapped around my arm as he pulled me closer, allowing me to cry into his shoulder. My tears stained his cut with my pain. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. Enough had been said. Enough had been done. I simply wanted to be free of all the emotions I was slowly drowning in.
Silently, he kept pouring water down my back, over my shoulders, while his other hand caressed me. The longer I felt his touch, being so close to him, the more I wanted him to take it all away, even if only for a short while.
I lifted my head, my cheek brushing against his beard as I exhaled against the skin of his neck. A groan rumbled in the back of his throat, and his fingers dug into the flesh of my arm, pulling me closer, the edge of the tub pressing against my chest like a barrier keeping us apart.
“Make it go away,” I whispered, and he cursed under his breath. “Make it all go away, Granite.”
I heard his breathing deepen, his warm breath coating the bare, wet skin of my neck. It was gentle enough to barely feel, yet powerful enough to tip me over the brink of madness, far away from the confusion that tainted everything I felt for this man.
Easing down the side of my arm, his fingers left a trace of tingling flesh in their wake, continuing all the way until it disappeared beneath the water. I closed my eyes, not even trying to fight the feeling. I was desperate for it to carry me away from here, to be raptured from reality. The soft touch of his fingers against my skin was indescribable, and just like I knew it would, it slowly forced all the bad feelings that were poisoning me to the farthest corner of my soul, too weak to fight the desire he so expertly woke inside me.
