by Amo Jones
“What do you want?” I scream out into the nothingness of the inky sky. Heavy mist reeled around my feet, thickening with each passing minute. My panic intensified as the fog rose, until it clouded my vision and I could hardly make out the swings that were an inch away from me. Slowly stepping backward, my back collided with a hard chest and I turned suddenly, coming face-to-face with the silver mask I knew so well.
“Raze?” I whispered.
Turning, I saw all of The 6 circled around me, their masks dancing in the fog, haunting me, tormenting me with their very existence. “Times up, pet,” Raze seethed. I went to clutch my stomach, when I felt the familiar wetness on the front on my loose shirt. Bringing my hand up close to my face, I tilted my head and exhaled.
“No,” I whispered hoarsely at the bright red blood seeping off my hands. “No!”
My eyes flick open slightly, until I’m greeted with the familiar surroundings of my dingy studio unit. Unable to open my eyes wider, my chest feels heavy and my breathing comes in struggled waves. Shaking my head from side to side in attempt to clear my foggy brain, short hair tickles my temple, and my eyes snap open in alert.
“Times up, pet,” Raze growls into my ear.
I go to let out a scream, only for his hand to slam down over my mouth. I look up into his eyes, the sheer shock and horror still pumping through my veins. His eyes narrow.
“You think you can run from me?” he asks, his knee spreading one of my legs open until it falls and dangles hopelessly off the edge of the couch. He looks down at me with so much hate it could burn through hell itself. He presses his crotch into me, rubbing his hardness over my center. My eyes slam shut and I repeat the mantra in my head.
This is not real.
This is another dream.
Your mind is playing tricks on you again.
He laughs, his evil, deep growl shaking my very core. Cold steel presses up against my throat, the metal from his knife sending tingles over every inch of my flesh. “You know too much,” he whispers calmly, pressing the knife against my throat harder. I slam my eyes closed as I inch under my pillow more, which isn’t exactly hard, considering my hands were pretty much in that position anyway. Gripping the cold steel of my pistol, I cock it quickly and then whip it up to face him.
He doesn’t flinch.
With a gun pointing at his head. He. Doesn’t. Flinch.
“Get… the fuck… off me,” I growl, my eyes searching his. “Now.”
He still doesn’t move, looking between each of my eyes, and then he—
Did he just smirk?
Anger oozes inside me as I press the tip of the pistol against his temple. “Get the fuck off me, or I will shoot you.”
He doesn’t move. “Do it,” he taunts through a whisper. He grins again, the blunt side of the knife pressing deeper into my neck. “Go on. Do it, baby.”
I tilt my head. “What? You think I won’t, Raze?” I laugh hysterically. “I will blow your fucking brains out all over these walls if you even think of harming me or…” I lean up until my nose is against his, my eyes searching his from left to right before dragging the tip of my nose up his chiseled jaw, pulling his ear into my mouth. I bite down on it, closing my eyes, and chuckle. “…Our baby.”
Just as the words leave my mouth, a solid rolling kick presses against the inside of my womb and against her father’s gut. He flies off of me and looks down at my stomach in horror.
“The fuck did you just say?” he roars, his eyes boring into my bump. I chuckle, my gun following his movements. He’s taking this exactly how I thought he’d take it.
“I’m pregnant. And if you can’t figure it out, you’re the dad,” I reply tiredly.
The knife he had clutched in his hand, which was not long ago pressed against my throat, drops to the ground as his hand comes up to his hair. He tugs on the strands roughly before turning to face the wall.
Pushing myself up off the couch, I casually walk toward the kitchen, tucking my piece into the front of my pajama shorts. I take down a mug, pouring hot chocolate into it and then adding cream, and then place it into the microwave while I wait for him to calm down. I watch the timer count down, and I can’t help but think these could very well be the final minutes of both our lives, because if he takes me down, I’m taking him with me.
Stunning couple we are.
When the timer dings, I pull open the microwave door and take out my hot mug, clutching the handle. Slowly, I turn to face Raze with the drink pressed to my mouth. His eyes lock onto mine with an unreadable expression clouding his face. This is a first. Usually, I can read Raze pretty well.
I take a sip, burning my lip and tongue in the process.
“It’s a girl,” I whisper when the silence becomes unbearable and his eyes haven’t blinked away from mine. I have an urge to scratch my cheek or see if there’s anything on me out of the ordinary, but then I remember I’m carrying a baby, so that is void. But his eyes aren’t on my stomach. They’re latched onto mine. He looks like a hungry hunting dog after it’s cruel owner starved it until a hunt. Like a tiger would after he has been starved during a drought.
Eventually, his eyes drop to my stomach, and it’s like he’s noticed it finally. How could he miss the bump when he was lying on me? He probably figured I had been feeding my nugget addiction, considering there’s a McDonald’s just a block away. He would be right; I have been, but that’s obviously not why I have a bump, and the way his eyes are holding my stomach, he realizes it.
“Is that why you ran?” he chokes out, pulling his eyes from my stomach and bringing them back up to my face. “Because you’re pregnant?”
I take another sip of the now drinkable chocolate. “Yes.”
He exhales and walks to my couch, dropping down onto it, while his hands clutch around his face and his elbows rest on his knees. “Millie,” he says softly, painfully, and for a second, I want to wrap my arms around him to soothe him, make him feel better. Then I remember he was about to slit my throat, so I walk to where he was standing instead, eyeing the blade at my feet. I always knew, with someone like Raze, it would take a hell of a lot more than love to break through his hard exterior, but I didn’t think he’d actually pull a knife on me. In the back of my mind, I rode on the fact he cared about me and that I was different. Obviously, my judgment is shit.
“Don’t,” I tell him, sitting down on the bright blue rug I found at a thrift shop, and lean against the table that holds my TV. “I don’t need you to justify why you were about to murder me in my sleep.”
“What?” He looks up to me, his hands falling away from his face.
“You don’t need to explain. I knew you would do it. It’s why I asked you to hold out until after I had the baby. I mean, I obviously overestimated the date just to be safe, so I could at least have my final meal. I just hoped….” I murmur, my eyes misting over as pain pulls deep in my chest. It isn’t a fierce, obvious pain, like I felt when Miles died. This is a soft gust of dark shadows kind of pain. It’s slow and torturous as it slides through every single nook and cranny of every vein in my body.
“Millie,” he repeats softly under a scoff, glancing to the side. “Babe, I wasn’t going to kill you.”
I look up at him instantly. His face is serious, somber, but his features are marred with stress. I can see the past few months have obviously taken a toll on him. He is still the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen walking this earth.
“What?” I ask, bewildered, my head tilting and a single tear trickling out of my eye.
I swipe it away quickly.
“Don’t cry.” He stands from the couch, and I shuffle back on my knees sluggishly, watching as he kneels down in front of me, his face a whisper away from mine. I can feel his sweet, minty breath falling over my lips, and my tongue darts out, sliding across to wet them. His eyes drop, following the path my tongue led.
“I was just going to tie you up and lock you in the meeting room until you submitted to me.” He shrugs casual
ly.
“What?” I’m confused, lost in the beauty of his eyes. They’re fierce and strong, like him, and have always sent chills bristling over me. But now, there is something else in their depths. Something else entirely.
“Hey,” he says when another tear falls down my rosy cheek. His thumb swipes it away, catching it before it goes any farther. He raises his thumb to his lips, and I watch as they wrap around it, sucking it off. Heat flushes to my core instantly and I blush, breaking our gaze. “Don’t fucking cry, Millie. I can handle anything in this fucking world, and I’d tear the skin off anyone who dares hurt you, but the one thing that can make me crack is seeing these fucking beautiful eyes weep.”
More tears flow out of me as my chest blossoms with warmth from his words. I laugh awkwardly, swiping the tears off my face. “That was really sweet.”
He grins, one of his arms coming under my legs as his other wraps around my back, lifting me off the ground. “I can do sweet.”
I laugh, throwing my head back as my arm snakes around his neck. “Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, but that’s hilarious.”
“Yeah, I still have that knife, you know,” he jokes, walking me toward my bed.
I grin and flash the steel switchblade in front of his now shocked face. “Really?” My eyebrow quirks.
He chuckles, placing me onto the bed gently. Walking to the tiny closet that’s tucked in the corner, he pulls out my suitcase.
“What are you doing?” I ask, folding my legs under my butt.
“You’re coming home. It’s final.”
“And the baby?” I ask, watching as his face changes.
“Sorry, babe. I’m gonna need some time to warm up to this, but in the meantime, I want you home.”
“Raze.” I shake my head. “I knew you weren’t going to exactly be hot about this—”
“Millie,” he cuts me off, “I don’t want to go there right now. It’s a lot for me to take in, but I can handle it. I just can’t go there right now.” He points to my stuff. “Pack.”
“Um, and my expensive décor?” I gesture around the apartment.
He pauses, watching my expression, and I don’t know if he wants to hit me or kiss me. “You’re joking?”
“Yes,” I hiss, feeling rather offended. “I was joking, but there’s a single mom who lives in one of the rooms down below. I’ll see if she wants anything. Otherwise, we’ll have to clean it out.”
He nods, carrying on with opening drawers and pulling clothes out. He flings one of my G-strings at me. “These are coming with.”
I snatch them off the bed and throw them toward my suitcase.
“Of course they are. They’re Victoria’s fucking Secret.”
PULLING OPEN THE PASSENGER DOOR of the Phantom, I slide into the large luxurious interior and close the door behind me. Raze shuts the backdoor after he’s unloaded my suitcase and climbs into the driver’s seat. The silence is deafening, and although I know that Raze’s and my bond is still invincible against everyone else, he’s still Raze, and I know the pregnancy is disturbing to him. I just don’t know what part. Is it the fact I’m pregnant, or is it because he’s actually afraid? I’d understand either side, but I also know that no one can force Raze to do anything or open up to anyone. He will do it in his own space and time.
He pulls us out of the parking lot and past the playground I walked by so many times. The old homeless man is back in his spot, standing around his barrel fire as the flames light up his eyes. His beard is long and his clothes are badly soiled and torn. My heart breaks a little when I think about my dad and how he was homeless for years. Melissa and I didn’t know until Hella came into her life. It was some sick and twisted fate for their stars to cross. Cute, but… not cute, because their relationship is far from a fairy tale, but somehow sweeter than Raze’s and mine. We sure know how to pick our men.
Dad would be proud.
“How many times have you had McDonald’s, and be honest.” He looks at me out of the corner of his eye.
I pretend to mull over his question, looking down at my fingernails. Laughing, I smile at him, resting my hand over my bump. His eyes fall down to my stomach as pain flashes over his face, and he quickly turns his attention back to the road.
I sigh inwardly. “Only a couple of nights a week. It would be more,” I say, turning to look out the window and watching as all the trees flash past in blurred waves. “But she has sort of decided she can live on hot chocolate, and fries dipped in ice-cream.”
He turns toward me quickly. “What?” He grins, hiding a laugh.
I smile. “Yeah.” I rub my belly. “That’s all I think about, and when I’m not thinking about it, it’s because I’m eating it.”
He chuckles, flashing his straight white teeth and two dimples before resting his eyes back in front of us. “I like your hair dark.” He smirks, not looking at me.
“Oh yeah?” I bait him. “How much?”
He rolls his eyes. “Not enough to join you in eating fries dipped in ice-cream, but enough.”
We pull into his gravel driveway, and I step out of the car as soon as we stop. I hate to admit it, but I missed this place. I even missed the pack of crazy men who haunt this house. Even though they’re all killers and all live on different ends of the crazy scale, they are what I know and I feel safe here. With Raze, in this house, surrounded by everyone.
Suddenly, shame washes over me. I realize I shouldn’t have left. It was a dumb move on my part, but another part of me thinks that if I hadn’t, maybe Raze would have killed me. I mean, he thought I had left him because I didn’t love him. I think the fact I’m pregnant somehow fell on the better side for him, which gives me a little hope.
“Come on, babe. Get that ass inside.”
I smile, taking his hand in mine as I let him lead me toward the front door. We haven’t even reached the top step, when Joker swings the door open with a bowl of ice-cream clutched in one hand and a spoon hanging out of his mouth. His hair is ruffled everywhere, and his abs tense as he grins at me. Seriously, one would think a scar like that on his face would tone down the ego a little. Not Joker though, oh no. He knows exactly just how hot he is, and anyway, that scar gives him the edge his boyish features need. His face is pretty-boyish, but they sit on a masterpiece of a body that could be built for a warrior. Not as big as Raze, but still built… angry.
He drags the spoon out of his mouth slowly, his lips wrapping around the curve before he makes a pop sound. “The runaway queen is home!” he shouts over his shoulder in a menacing tone. “And she’s”—he looks down to my belly, and I narrow my eyes—“either been eating too many chicken nuggets, or is cooking a mini-executioner slash Harley Quinn baby.”
I roll my eyes and shove past him, removing my shoes as I reach the warm enclosure of… well, home.
Raze steps in and slices him with a glare. “Shut up, Joker.”
“Hey.” Joker’s hands swing up. “I was just sayin’. And anyway”—he leans to the side, his eyes zeroing in on my ass—“it looks good on you.”
Raze slaps him upside the head, and Joker rubs the part he hit like an abused little puppy. His face changes and he grins again just as Angel walks toward us with Viking, Royal, and another man I haven’t met yet. His hair is jet-black and his beard is long on his face. But it is clean-long, not scruffy-long. He has dark eyes that are bleak, shadowed, and empty. Leaning against the doorframe, he watches as everyone comes to see me.
“See?” Joker points. “Mommy and Daddy are back together.”
“Shut up, Joker,” we all say in unison.
Angel pulls me in for a hug, and I exhale into his familiar embrace. “Hey,” I murmur, muffled into his shoulder. “You miss me?”
He laughs, pushing back slightly. “More than you’ll ever know.”
His arm hooks around my shoulder, and he says to Joker, after slapping him over the back of his head as he walks past, “And she’s obviously pregnant, dick.”
I giggle, and Raze shakes
his head, tugging on my hand until I slip out of Angel’s embrace and into his. I look up to the dark, shadowed man who’s leaning against the door as we pass, and Raze stops. “That’s Soulless.”
Soulless doesn’t smile. He merely invades my being with a single flick of his eyes. “Hi,” I squeak, soberly terrified of this serious, broody, and terrifying man.
He looks to Raze with a knowing glance. “Hi,” he states, before pushing off the doorframe and walking out the front door.
I look up to Raze and he shakes his head. “Talk about it later. Don’t worry about him.”
But I do worry. I worry a lot about him. There’s something about him that doesn’t sit right with me. Not because he wasn’t friendly with me, but because it was as if he hated me. I don’t have much time to think about that, because Joker is already filling up a bowl of ice-cream and handing it to me as we walk into the kitchen.
I take it with a “Thanks,” then watch as he goes back to the sitting room, taking a seat on the large L-shaped sofa and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. Joker, Viking, and Royal laugh while continuing to watch whatever sport is playing on TV. It’s strange to see something so… human happening in this house.
Raze goes to the fridge and pulls out a drink. “Go get settled. I’ll be up in a sec.”
“Yeah,” I say, placing the uneaten bowl of ice-cream onto the counter. “I’m a bit tired.”
Climbing the stairs, I automatically go to Raze’s door and walk up the second flight of steps to his bedroom. Dropping my handbag on the large four-poster bed I’m so familiar with, I walk toward the bathroom and slip into the shower. Scrubbing up quickly, I inhale Raze’s sweet, spicy man-soap while enjoying a proper shower. Shutting off the faucet, I wrap the soft towel around myself.
