Chicago Defiance Box Set Part One

by K E Osborn

  She steps up to me, purposely looking me in the eyes as she makes her exit. “I’m going to be here for a while, Trax…” she sighs, “… we should at least be civil to each other.”

  I swing the door wider. I need her to go before I cave and kiss the fuck out of those delectable lips. She looks so fucking good right now, even with her tear-stained face. I hate that I’ve caused those tears, but they can’t be helped. I’m no good for her. “Just go, Mylee. We need some space right now.”

  She tilts her head but walks out of my room leaving the air feeling heavy. It always feels lighter when she’s around, but now the blackness of doom filters back around me as she walks down the hall.

  I can’t help but wonder if I’ve just made the fucking worst call of my life.

  CHAPTER THREE

  MYLEE

  Walking away from Trax is so much harder than I thought it would be. I’ve done it once before, but I certainly wasn’t in the right frame of mind at that time. Walking away from him now, while in a different context, feels painful too. I wanted to sit with him, talk through things, to tell him all about what’s happened over the past two years, but he wouldn’t even spare me the time to go through it with him.

  I get it, though. I know I hurt him, seems more than I thought. But at the time, I left for his benefit. Certainly didn’t want him going through what I was going through. I didn’t want to pull him down to a level so low, I knew he’d probably never climb out of it. I wish he could see the situation how I see it, but I don’t think he ever will.

  Life with me isn’t easy. I was a freaking mess, but I have more control over it now. While my moods are far more stable, it’s still a slippery slope. While some things can make me fall over the edge into a depressive state, I generally find I’m able to come out of it easier. The mania, I hardly ever experience, which is nice because those episodes are hard work. The depression can be difficult to work your way out of, and it affects those around you, and right now I can feel the heaviness of my mood shifting.

  I don’t like it.

  I hate the weight bearing down on me—that’s what it feels like—almost like a storm is rising above my head, the lightning and thunder cracking above me with the threat of imminent downpour. If I don’t do something to ease the current storm, it will be a torrential deluge, and I won’t be able to stop the inevitable hurricane which will follow. I need to get a handle on this now before it takes hold.

  That’s the thing about these past two years, it’s taught me to recognize when my moods are shifting, to take note of when to take action. Like now. So as I walk back out into the clubroom, wiping the tears from my cheeks, I glance at Dad who notices instantly. His eyes open wide as he stops everything and rushes to my side along with Torque.

  “Mylee, what did the little prick do?” Dad asks, making me let out a small laugh.

  “Nothing I didn’t kind of expect. But Dad, I need my pills.”

  His hard glare softens instantly as I glance to Torque who furrows his brows like he’s confused. I don’t know if Trax ever told anyone about my diagnosis or why I left, but by the look on Torque’s face, I’m guessing he didn’t. Dad turns, racing off to my bags which have obviously been brought in during my time in Trax’s room. He digs around then pulls out the little pill bottle, rushes back to me opening the cap and drops out a pill handing it to me.

  Torque keeps quiet watching the whole thing unfold with his arms crossed over his chest, his brow raised like he’s unimpressed. “Crest, a word,” Torque grunts out as I sniff, grabbing a bottle of water from the bar and throwing back the pill quickly.

  The thunder above my head cracks another loud bolt, and I shudder as my anxiety creeps in.

  What if being here is the wrong thing for me?

  Being around these guys, even though I know them, might set me off.

  They might all be against me because I hurt Trax.

  They might not welcome me with open arms like I had originally thought.

  Shit! Dad and I didn’t think this through at all.

  My breathing becomes rapid while I lean against the bar and close my eyes trying not to let this panic overwhelm me. My fingers dig into the edge as my back leans against it heavily. Everything seems so loud as the music blares on the stereo. Everything becomes vivid, so real, my senses take over. My body shudders from the cold, my heart racing so fast I can’t seem to calm it. Thoughts of everyone here looking at me, laughing at me, thinking I’m some sort of crazy lunatic all flood my mind. It’s all so overwhelming as tears flow freely from my eyes. Everything around me seems to be moving at a fast pace even though I have my eyes clenched so tight I can’t see anything. I feel like my world is spinning as I pant and breathe so fast the storm is invading, the thunderous clouds rolling in, the fog invading every nook of my body.

  I can’t breathe.

  Oh God, I can’t breathe.

  I clench at my chest as my knees buckle from under me making me collapse to the floor. My knees pull up to my chest as I try hard to pull in the air that isn’t coming as someone appears in my line of sight. I remember her, her beautiful face. She appears a little older. Grown in such a short amount of time, the sight of her is distracting momentarily. Her hands reach out touching either side of my face as she looks into my eyes and controls her breathing. I know what she’s doing. I’ve seen it before, so I follow her breaths, slowly breathing in, then slowly I breathe out. They come out ragged and puffy, but I’m doing it while my heart continues its frantic pounding.

  Suddenly, Dad’s in my vision and so is Torque as they stand back, letting the girl do her thing. She’s doing a good job, I’m distracted enough to let the storm pass. The thunderous clouds slowly roll away as I watch Dad’s somber face crinkle while he stares at me seeming completely frazzled by my sudden turn. I haven’t had a panic attack for months—probably at least six. So this is not a good sign.

  “Mylee?” the girl asks finally, as I look back at her, my breathing almost back to normal. “Mylee, can you hear me?”

  My head bobs twice as her smile shines like the stars in the night sky. I have to stop to admire her. She’s so beautiful as she slides her hand in, moving some of my hair away from my face in a soothing gesture. “You’re okay now, just keep taking deep breaths. Your room is ready for you. I’ll take you there where you can sleep this off. Okay?” she asks.

  I glance to Dad with a forlorn look while he rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Dad,” I murmur.

  He lets out a small groan dropping to his knees, reaching out, grabbing my hands. “Baby, you have nothing to be sorry for. I should have seen this coming. I know the signs well enough. I should have known coming to a new place and seeing Trax again would be too much for you. I’ve failed you, Mylee. You rest, then we’ll find another solution to our problem.”

  I sniff. “We have nowhere else I can go, Dad. No one knows how to handle me when I’m like this. Trax has seen it. If he’s willing to look after me, then this is the best place for me.”

  His calloused fingers rub over the back of my hand as he looks into my eyes. “We can talk about it after your rest. Let Neala take you to bed.”

  Recognition soars through me. That’s who she is, Trax’s kid sister. She seems so grown up.

  “I’m sorry you all had to see me like this,” I murmur.

  “Don’t be silly,” Neala deflects placing her arm under mine, helping me from the floor.

  I feel weak. I always feel tired after an episode, and while this wasn’t a major one, I still feel drained. I need to sleep. Let the medication take hold, let it alter the chemistry in my brain. Bring me back to functioning normally again. Calm me down.

  I hate I’ve allowed myself to get worked up, I know better than this. I detest it even more that I can’t switch off my thoughts—the ones racing through my mind. I glance around the room to see everyone’s watching me. Judging me. Clenching my jaw, I try not to let my irrational thoughts take over again, but it’s hard.


  I’m not thinking straight right now.

  I need to sleep.

  “Neala, can you stay with her till she falls asleep?” Dad calls out as we start to head off.

  I inwardly cringe as she walks with me to the sleeping quarters. I know why he’s done this. I’m on suicide watch, but he should know I’m nowhere even close to that. He’s completely overreacting. But I get it. After what we went through with Mom, I understand how protective he is with me. After every episode, no matter how small, he’s cautious. He doesn’t want to lose me the way we lost Mom.

  Neala simply takes my arm as we head down the hall. She holds onto me tightly as I struggle to get my footing right. I’m so drained I can barely function, a mixture of the panic attack flowing through my system and the medication taking hold.

  “I got you, Mylee, you’re okay,” Neala coos.

  I feel safe with her.

  I wish this were Trax, though.

  She leads me to my room, opening the door to escort me in, and I notice it’s almost opposite Trax’s room. An ache squeezes deep inside my stomach as I glance at his room, his door shut from when I left moments before.

  How will he react when he hears about this? It will probably push him further away, that I can be sure of.

  We walk into the beautiful room, and Neala edges me to the bed then sits me down. I’m so sleepy, my eyes feel like lead weights as I blink a few times trying to focus on something, anything, but all I can think of is sleep.

  Neala grabs hold of my ballet flats, pulling them off, then slowly edges me to lie down on the bed. I follow her lead not really able to think for myself as she grabs the blanket, which was sitting at the end of the bed, and slides it up over me. My head molds to the fluffy pillow feeling like a cloud, but a nice cloud, not like the storm clouds which have been rolling through my head for the past few minutes.

  I feel warm.

  I feel safe.

  It feels like home.

  Neala sits on the side of the bed gently caressing my leg, so I close my eyes. “Go to sleep, Mylee. You’ll be much better when you wake. I’m glad you’re back. I’ve missed you…” her voice trails off. “We both have,” is the last thing I hear before blackness engulfs me, and I’m out like a light.

  TRAX

  Cooling off in my room isn’t helping, but knowing she’s out there in my clubhouse isn’t doing me any favors either. The fact that Mylee Bannerman is going to be in my clubhouse for shit only knows how long is doing my goddamned head in. This woman, this insatiably gorgeous woman, is going to be my undoing.

  I just know it.

  How the hell am I supposed to stay away from her when she’s forced in my face everywhere I turn? All I know is I need to be strong. I can’t let her back into my life because I want it. I need to let her know she can’t get away with hurting me, but more importantly, I can’t let her know I could be fucking bad for her. We are bad for each other, there’s no denying it.

  Hearing some commotion outside my door, I wonder briefly what the hell is going on, but I choose to ignore it. The dueling voices are becoming louder, so intrigue gets the better of me. I walk to my door, pull it open, and notice Crest and Neala standing there trying to talk in hushed voices, but they’re in a heated debate, so their hushed voices sound more like shouting. They both turn to look at me. Crest glares while Neala winces with a single shake of her head like she’s warning me.

  “You!” Crest grunts as he starts heading for me.

  I take a step back as I wonder what the fuck’s going on. He and Neala both march inside my room as I slide out of the way. Neala quickly closes the door behind her as Crest storms up to me his finger in my face as I focus on it almost going cross-eyed.

  “What did I do?” I ask.

  Crest scoffs lowering his hand. “My little girl is zoned out in that room all because of you!”

  My eyebrows pull together as I look to Neala who winces, chewing on her bottom lip. “What do you mean zoned out?”

  “She had a motherfucking panic attack in front of your entire goddamn club. How the hell do you think that’s gonna make her feel? Her anxiety, her inner thoughts, they’re gonna go through the roof.” His intense stare softens as he continues, “She was doing so well, so fucking well.” Crest shakes his head. “Until she spoke to you. You. Fucking. Little. Prick! I should gut you right where you fucking stand,” he grunts rushing forward, his voice booming with intensity.

  I simply bob my head in agreement which forces him to halt his aggressive stance toward me. His hands grip on my cut as he shakes me violently once, but I do nothing to fight back. I feel like fucking shit. I caused Mylee to suffer an episode. I never ever wanted that to happen. I thought she was doing better, but I’ve sent her backward. I am a fucking prick, but we all know that.

  “Fight back, damn you. I can’t fucking hurt you if you don’t fight back,” he spits.

  Shaking my head, I close my eyes. “I can’t. If Mylee’s got issues ‘cause of me, then I deserve everything you want to throw at me, Crest.”

  He forcibly lets me go with a push. I fall back opening my eyes again as I flop onto the bed after a stumble.

  Running my hands through my hair, I let out a loud exhale in defeat. “Is she… is she all right?” I ask.

  “She is… she took her medication, and she’s sleeping it off. The panic attack wasn’t bad, Trax, but it was definitely enough for her mind to fog in and out,” Neala murmurs.

  In frustration, I yank my fingers through my hair, you can practically taste the anxiety in the room—the foul tang filling the atmosphere with the dread of the unknown—the angst of anguish. The fact Mylee has slipped into an anxiety state because of me is so sickening, so powerfully agonizing to me, the thirst for blood is seeping into my pores. The need to spill God’s nectar onto the earth then watch it seep into the dust is creeping into my veins.

  I’m a man doomed by demons, and my demons are right on my doorstep.

  But right now I have awoken hers.

  It’s a vicious cycle, the devil has us in his trap.

  But I need to focus—focus on Mylee, only on Mylee.

  Not on the demon within me.

  “Can I see her?” I ask.

  The silence in the room makes me look up to see Crest assessing me. His eyebrows furrow. “You want to see her? I have no idea what the hell was said between the two of you, but it was enough to let her darkness in, and… you want to see her?” he scoffs.

  “I know it looks bad, Crest, but I care about Mylee. More than you know. Fuck! I’ll put it all out there if you want… I fucking love her. I’ve loved her every moment of the past two years, I’ve never stopped. But shit can’t just go back to the way it was, Crest. She’s different. I’m a shell of the man I was. I told her I’m an asshole, and if she came at me and we tried to talk, she’d end up hating me.”

  He exhales. “You told her you were an asshole?”

  His lips begin to slightly turn upward—the fucker actually smiles. “Maybe I could be swayed around to liking you again, you fuckhead. You were always my favorite. Thing is, I need a club to look after Mylee, but after this shit, I’m not sure you can do that. Her being here is obviously going to be a problem if you two aren’t going to get the fuck along. She needs someone who knows how to handle her.” He shrugs. “That’s why I came to you, you dumbass.”

  I stand up, stepping closer to him. “Crest, I got this. No one can look after Mylee like I can. I know her, I know her condition. I can read her. Don’t send her away. Let me do this. Even if she doesn’t want to stay, I’m still her best fit.”

  He lets out a small huff. “Yeah, right. I can see how fucking well you read her, by the way she’s sleeping you off right now, you damn fuckwit.”

  “Crest, I’ll be here, too. I’ll stay in the clubhouse and watch her. Be the supportive girlfriend she’ll need. Don’t worry, she’ll be fine. We’ll keep our eyes on her all the time. If at any time things get too out of hand, we’ll call you… im
mediately,” Neala intervenes.

  I nod in agreement—my little sister can come in handy sometimes.

  “My promise is my word, Crest. I will protect her and keep her safe from whatever danger is out there, and… from herself.”

  He raises his brow. “And what about from you?”

  My shoulders slump. “And from me? I won’t hurt her. She knows where we stand. I’ll be there as her friend, as her support. She can lean on me… always.”

  “You can’t be someone’s friend if you’re in love with them, Trax.”

  I grimace. “You can if it’s what’s best for them.”

  He groans. “Fine! But I want progress reports daily.”

  Smiling my lopsided smirk, I tilt my head. “Done! Can I go see her now?”

  He narrows his eyes, gesturing for the door. “She’s across the damn hall.”

  I glance at Neala. She opens the door walking with me then opens Mylee’s door. I instantly see her curled up on the bed under a blanket, looking… well, fuck knows.

  My heart sinks.

  Neala sighs rubbing my back. “She’ll be fine. You need to reinforce the fact that the club doesn’t think any less of her. I know that’s what she’ll believe. They all saw it,” she tells me.

  I grimace as I rub my temples feeling a headache coming on. “Fuck! Okay. Thanks, little sis. Thank you for being there for her.”

  Her lips turn small and thin in a tight line like she’s as wary about this situation as I am. Taking a breath, I walk inside then she closes the door behind me leaving me alone in Mylee’s room. Mylee’s soft breathing filters through the air, the sound is comforting to me. I move over to the bed, slowly sitting down on the edge. My hand immediately moving to her leg to hold her as I glance down to see her sleeping heavily. The drugs in her system have taken hold. I know she’ll sleep for a good few hours. Once she’s had a panic attack, she usually has to sleep to recover from it. The only difference now is she has medication to help even her out, which is good.