by Evie Harper
I end up in the middle of a living room. I halt for only a moment as I spot a raven-haired woman sitting on a couch. Her legs bounce as she bites her nails. Her eyes widen when she sees me, and then suddenly and secretly she points to her left.
Without giving a moment’s thought to whether I can trust her, I sprint where she directed, finding a large wooden door. I grasp the knob with my tied hands and twist. It’s unlocked.
Fuck yes.
Swinging open the door, ready to bolt, I’m surprised by a man standing in my way. His eyes narrow and then darken. Quickly I take in his stocky build and his dark hair tied back into a man-bun, and an almost black beard that covers his lips. His leathers tell me he’s another biker, but the patch on the left says Road Captain.
Tensing my shoulders, I barge right into him, using my right shoulder to push past him.
“Fucking Jesus Christ.” The man grunts as he wraps his arms around my body, attempting to keep me in the doorway. I push with everything I have, and the man slides backwards on the gravel. My throat closes up, each breath hurting more than the last as I use all my body weight and every last bit of strength I have left.
Grunting, the fucker pulls at my shirt, and then suddenly it’s ripped off my body as I continue to plow through the asshole. He curses when he realizes the shirt isn’t attached to me anymore, and quickly grabs hold of my short hair with a tight fist. I ignore the screaming pain in my scalp and twist my head around, grunting, my chest heaving.
Then I’m thrown to the ground by two heavy bodies on top of mine. Powerless. I exhale, dizziness hitting me hard. Hands. Touching. Skin to Skin. Pinned down. My chest tightens. Air. There’s no air.
Attempting to shake off the agony and keep the bile down, I close my eyes, steadying my mind and breathing in and out as smoothly as I can.
I’m pulled up to stand. My head bobs as my eyesight attempts to adjust through my clouded mind. I blink once, then twice to clear my vision.
“You fucking dipshits. There’s two of you and one of him, and you can’t keep him in a fucking house?”
“He caught us off guard,” Grease states in a taut voice as his grip on my arm contracts.
The road captain steps up to Grease and spits, “Don’t fucking give me excuses, just get the job done.”
“Yes, Krazy.” Grease lowers his chin and eyes.
Krazy swings his eyes to the other biker. “I expected better from you, Brick.”
Brick blows out a breath. “I’m too fucking old for this shit.”
Krazy laughs. “Not long now, brother, and we’ll have everything we want.” He pats Brick on the shoulder as he passes us. “Where’s my woman?” he bellows into the house as he disappears.
Jolting my shoulders and gritting my teeth, I test their hold on me.
Both men grasp my arms with two hands. Grease’s hot breath sears across my cheek. “Before, this was just a job. Now I'm going to enjoy hurting you, slowly.”
The two bikers drag me back into the house, through the living room, and to the kitchen. Both men still for a moment as we pass the road captain holding the woman against the fridge, her face swinging left and right to avoid his kiss. The woman's eyes are filled with rage and defiance. On the outside she appears weak, but the look on her face…. If she could manifest it, we’d all be burned to ashes.
I’m dragged kicking and thrashing to the shed. By the time the door is thrown open my chest is thick with heaviness and a sharp pain pinches with each breath I take.
The shed looks like any other, two walls covered in gardening tools, and another has a counter filled with what looks to be motorcycle parts. His woman. Little girl’s room. This must be Krazy’s house. Fuck, the man has a family.
Pain explodes through my back as I’m forced forward, falling to the cold cement floor. Stars burst behind my eyes as the air in my lungs causes me to wheeze. Glancing up, I see Grease holding a shovel over his shoulder, a sick grin plastered on his face. Panic builds in my chest. Fuck.
Grease throws the shovel down and picks up a steel pipe. He slaps it in his hand, his eyes bright and feral. “I heard you like it up the ass.”
My heart chills and my limbs shake.
They know.
My torment.
My weakness.
They know exactly how to hurt me. How to destroy me. Has this always been my fate? My first memory of this world is one of anguish. Is this how it was always meant to end? Am I to endure the same as I take my final breath?
Out of nowhere a fist slams into my cheek. My head jolts and a sharp explosion bursts through my jaw. A hiss escapes from between my lips. Another blow, and my mouth fills with a coppery taste. Nausea builds, rising through my chest as the pain becomes overwhelming.
Abruptly my hands are yanked forward, and I blink through the water in my eyes; not tears, liquid pain.
By the time I realize what they’re doing, it’s too late. I have another zip tie attached to the one around my wrists, caging me to the metal bench.
Swallowing is a struggle; my throat is bone dry. Pushing the pain in my back and face away, I flail around, unsteadily standing and attempting to lift the table, but it doesn’t budge. Bolted to the fucking floor. I push my binds down, as if like a magic trick they will go straight through the steel of the counter.
Laughter from behind causes me to still.
Falling to my ass, I realize I can’t get out of this. I peer down at my wrists, and see blood covering the translucent plastic ties.
“I don’t have the stomach for your sick games, Grease. Tell me when it’s done,” Brick announces, and leaves the shed.
Grease grins, reminding me of the Joker, his eyes cold and feral with ill intent.
Slapping the pipe in his hand again, he says, “Time to hear you scream.”
Kneeling, Grease places the pipe on the ground and unbuckles my jeans. I kick and thrash, but it’s no use. He easily pins my legs under his calves, and in no time he’s pulling my jeans off, throwing them across the garage. He stares down at me, at the bulge in my black underwear, my vulnerable, sacred place. The glint in his eyes reveals everything I need to know. He’s sick, a motherfucking monster like Phillip was.
Ivy. How could you do this to me? How could you lay my secrets bare to these animals?
I loved you.
Adored you.
My heart twists in ways I never imagined it could. Not breaking; demolishing until not a speck of emotion is left.
As Grease takes the last piece of my clothing, I stare at the ceiling. Darkness and thorns wind their way inside my chest and around the dead organ. Ice seeps into my blood and veins, hardening anything that once was soft. Expelling a ragged breath, I promise myself, demand of myself to never trust again.
13
Blood Will Be Spilled
Kelso
“This will be fun,” Grease states, licking his lips.
My mouth opens of its own accord and I gag on the bile attempting to explode from my gut. My chin wobbles as I beg my body and mind to stay strong.
Something from the corner of my eye catches my attention, but I don’t have a chance to look, because the next thing I know Grease slumps against my calves, and the woman from inside the house is standing over him with a large wrench in her hands.
Her eyes are wide with terror, and her hands shake. She drops the tool to the ground and pulls a pair of scissors from her jeans pocket.
Lightness hits my chest. Oh fuck. Thank God.
The woman bends and looks me straight in the eyes. I notice the fire in her eyes has disappeared, and now there’s only desperation.
“If I let you go, will you come back? Will you bring more people back and do what you will with them?” She jerks her head to the backyard.
“Fucking hell I will, their blood will be on my hands before the sun goes down.”
Biting her lip, she stares at my tied hands and then back to the door.
Her eyes find mine again, and I can see the fear shining in them. “You
promise? Once you’re gone, they’ll know I let you go.”
“I promise. It will take me a few hours though. Can you keep them here?”
“I can’t get rid of them,” she hisses. “They won’t leave.” She takes a big breath in. “They’re hiding out from the club.”
“You have a deal. I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into? If you help me, they will not be happy. But I can help you, my family will help you, for saving me. We’ll protect you.”
Her lip curls, and she says, “The last thing I need is to strike another deal with another thug. I’ll be fine on my own. Just hurt these guys for me, especially Krazy.”
“Oh, I will do more than hurt them.”
She cuts me loose. I’m free.
Hurriedly I throw off the plastic and pull my boxers up my legs. The woman doesn’t so much as glance in my direction; she turns to the side while I quickly dress and buckle up my belt.
The second I’m done, I twist her around to me. “Thank you.”
Then I’m moving, straight for the shed door, however, I stop when I hear the faint grunts of a man struggling to wake up from his unconscious state.
The thought of coming back here and spending hours torturing Grease, taking turns with my brothers as we burn his flesh and hear his screams, is tempting. But I look to the raven-haired woman, and she’s shaking. As soon as he wakes, he’ll alert the others I’m gone and she’ll likely cop a beating for it.
I need to end him, now.
Walking to Grease, I grab two stray zip ties that have fallen out of his pocket. I join them together and wind them around the monster’s neck.
The woman gasps and turns away when she realizes what I’m about to do.
I pull the zip tie until it’s pressing into Grease’s neck. Until the plastic rips into his flesh and bubbles of blood appear. He stays unmoving, but then his body fights for air as his back arches and his mouth opens and closes. His eyes flash open, wide and terrified, staring up at me. In response, I pull the zip tie tighter, wanting Grease to know exactly who is draining the life from him. Seconds later his body falls limp, his eyes remaining open and blank.
Good riddance.
Standing, I move to the shed door, but twist and speak to the woman. “I’ll be back soon.” The woman turns to me, her eyes bouncing off the now dead body and me. “Go up to the house and act normal. If we’re lucky, I’ll be back before they realize anything has happened.”
She jolts awake, remembering there are two other men to deal with before this is all over. “Wait.” She fishes into her jeans pocket and pulls out a set of keys. “Go to the left side gate. My car is the silver Camry.”
My eyes swing from the keys to her face. “They’ll hear me. Know you’ve let me go.”
She puts the keys in my hand, and a tear falls. “I don’t care. My daughter will be home at three, and if I have to see sadness in her eyes one more time I will die. I need this over with.”
I nod slowly, understanding the sacrifice she’s making for her daughter.
“Where am I?” I ask.
“Riverwood.”
Only fifteen minutes from home. I can do this. “When you hear us, hide.”
She nods, and I study her, trying to come up with some encouraging words, but there are none. All I can do is hurry.
I slam down on the brake in the Camry. The car skids to a stop out the front of my home. I don’t park, I leave the car idling in the middle of the road.
As I approach the gate, Mackson is the first one out of the house and down the porch stairs.
“Fuck, there you are. What the hell happened? We got word from Kodi that you were pulled over by Parks and taken into custody. He was driving past and knew better than to stop and try to help.” His eyes dart behind me at the silver car.
“Where is everyone?” I ask, not answering his questions.
“Slater and Ivy are down at the police station demanding your release. Everyone else is here, wondering what the fuck happened.”
Chills race down my spine at hearing her name.
“Get Slater on the phone now,” I demand, walking past Mackson and into the house. Finding a pen and paper in the kitchen, I write the address I came from. “Tell him to meet us here.” I point to the paper. “Parks handed me over to bikers, a deal they struck to end me. To rape me. They taunted me with our past. They know,” I hiss.
Mack’s body jolts as his eyes widen and his mouth opens in shock.
I hear a whimper and turn, spotting Della, a hand covering her mouth as her eyes glass over. Pacer is one step behind her on the stairs; he’s gone pale.
“They die today.” My voice is guttural, penetrating the rage and hatred simmering inside me.
“They die,” Mack and Pacer echo.
Mackson walks away with the phone to his ear.
Della walks over to me, her eyes roaming my body, noticing I’m missing a shirt. “Did they… did they hurt you?” Her chin wobbles.
“No, sis. I killed the one who tried.”
Pressing her lips together and straightening, Della nods, renewed strength gathering in her eyes.
Racing up to my room, I go straight for my drawers and pull out a black T-shirt. Almost out the door, my eyes snag on a picture, one Ivy had brought over and framed. Ivy’s hair whips around us as we sit atop the Ferris wheel at the Kentucky State Fair. We're smiling and don't have a care in the world.
I clutch the frame until my knuckles turn white, but the pressure doesn’t sate my rage, so I throw it against the wall, glass exploding and falling to the carpet. I walk over, my boots crunching the glass, and I pick up the photo. Loving someone this much frightens me. I’m scared of losing you.
Lies.
I tear the photo in half, straight down the center, and let the pieces fall to the floor. Never again will I be fooled.
Pacer, Mackson, and I wait one street over for Slater to arrive. Every minute that passes sets me on edge, knowing the woman who helped save me is being beaten for doing it.
I hear the familiar rumble of Chevy and look into my rearview mirror. “It’s time.”
We get out of my Dodge, Mack and Pacer with their knuckle-busters already fitted to their right hands, and me with my metal bat, one godforsaken thing I can count on in this life.
Squinting in the sunlight, I notice Slater’s passenger-side door open. Fear and anger wage war in my chest and my mind. Panic for Ivy, because she’s close to the sick bastards around the corner, and rage, because she dared to continue to play this game of hers.
Her ponytail is loose, hair falling over her face as she stares at me. Ivy’s eyes are red and swollen, but I can see the desperation in her expression to come to me. There's also wariness, her gaze watchful as she attempts to read me. She’s right to be worried; she should be terrified.
I lift my bat and point it at Slater. “Get her the fuck out of here.”
Slater’s eyes narrow at my demand, but he does as I ask, chucking Ivy the keys and walking to me. “She was dropping me off. She’s going.”
Without looking back at the woman who deceived me, I walk. I listen for my brothers’ strides as they join mine, and when I hear the rumble of Chevy my steps get faster until I’m running, sprinting as fast as I can to deliver pain to those who deserve it, but most of all to rid myself of this unbearable ache in my chest, to shut out any beats that began the moment I laid eyes on my Red.
Pacer goes through the side gate and around the back, making sure it’s clear. Mack stays out the front, on watch. Slater and I enter the house. My brothers know I want these kills. They’ll watch my back, and if I need help Slater will step in, but he knows, unless I’m at death’s door, he’s not to get in my way.
We enter through the still unlocked front door. It's quiet, too quiet. Slowly, making no sound at all, I peek around the corner into the living room. Heaviness hits my gut and my eyes blink. What the hell happened?
I step out from behind the wall and walk over to the prone body, ki
cking it, looking for any signs of life. It’s Brick, dead, a large pool of his blood staining the white carpet. A fireplace poker sticks out of his chest.
Pacer appears on the other side of the room. “No one is out back, nothing but a dead body in the shed.”
Whimpers come from behind the couch, and we all freeze, becoming alert, but quickly realize they’re too soft to come from a man.
Pacer is the first one there, turning the woman over. We all flinch at the deep cut on her lip and the bruises covering her jaw. “Fuck,” Pacer growls. “Those pigs.”
“Where is Krazy?” I ask, my voice gruff, still craving the revenge I deserve.
Her eyes stay closed and she winces in pain. “Gone. He killed Brick, and I tried to run. I didn’t get very far.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, her tone breathy.
I stand, my body locking up with tension as I fist my hands. “Fuck!” I yell.
“We’ll find him,” Slater announces.
I spin around to face my brother. “First we find Parks and the sheriff. I want them dead, today.”
“Done,” Slater declares with no hesitation.
My eyes swing to Pacer, waiting for his agreement, but all I see is concern staring back at me.
“You’re either with me, brother, or you’re not,” I growl.
“Always with you, brother,” Pacer says, “but I hope you know what you’ll be losing by following this path. There will be no going back.”
“I already lost everything. There’s nothing left to fight for.” The words expel from me in a guttural tone. Whether I want to share it or not, I can’t keep the torment hidden.
Suddenly the woman in Pacer’s arms whines and attempts to sit up. Pacer does his best to try to adjust her body to a comfortable sitting position, but she flinches at his touch. He backs off, understanding her need for space. She leans against the wall, her head falling backwards. “What time is it?” she asks.
Slater looks to his watch and says, “Three o'clock on the dot.”
Her eyes slam open and she attempts to stand. Pacer takes her hand and gives her something to lean on.
