by LC Lehesaho
I won't open my eyes. I hear them, but I can't watch. Not again.
The rattling from the metal makes me snap my eyes open.
"No, no, no—" I throw my hands out in front of me, trying to back up in the cage, but the meaty hand still catches my arm.
I kick. I hit. I scream.
Still, my face hits the filthy floor, the cold concrete against my face. I feel someone wrapping their fingers around my arm when I close my eyes and throw my arm up to cover my face.
Thin fingers.
"Anthony... help me."
My stomach twists into knots, and I feel the vomit rise up in my throat—a cruel laugh echoes through the building.
"Open your eyes and watch, or I'll carve your sister's eyes out."
I take a long drag of the smoke, lean forward with my elbows on my knees, and let my hands dangle between them as I stare at the gleaming cherry of the cig. I keep the smoke inside my lungs, feeling how it starts to burn.
Why did Cobra do something like this?
The smoke starts to squeeze my lungs, and I let it out with a heavy sigh. "Fuck." I wipe my hand down my face to my chest, rubbing it because it fucking hurts.
The painkillers Doc gave me after stitching up my side, where the bullet grazed me, doesn’t remove the relentless pain in my chest.
Memories try to work their way to the surface, intertwining with the present. I take another long inhale of the cig, dropping my head down and closing my eyes. I'm not going to lose her. She'll be fine.
Doc said she's going to be okay, no permanent damage.
I hear the door opening behind me, someone stepping out on the back porch and closing the door behind them. Keeping my eyes closed, I push the smoke out of my nostrils and run my fingers through my hair.
Someone sits beside me on the top level of the steps, which lead to the backyard, and I smell the familiar dark cologne and smoky whiskey.
"What do you think I should do with her?"
My eyes snap open at Leo's question. I turn my head in his direction, astonished. "You're asking my opinion?"
He looks straight ahead, his legs stretched out on the steps and crossed at the ankles. The black dress shirt is strained around his chest as he leans back on his hands. "Not your opinion." Leo turns his yellowish eyes to mine. "I'm asking for your help."
"Uh." I scrub my hand over my face. "Fuck, I don't know."
His eyes drill into my fucking soul; the gaze is so intense. "As much as I hate to admit it, I think you know her better than I do. What's going on, Tiger?"
I keep my face unreadable.
"She's stressed out."
Well, go figure. But that's all I can say. I could admit to Leo about us, and everything related, but... Cobra would never forgive me. And I need her. We may not be what we were before, but she is still my everything.
After those couple of days of not talking to each other, and then she went out with the Aussie...
Not ever again.
She's fucking mine.
I'll never let her out of my reach again. Years ago, I told her that she's not allowed to hurt herself, and she went and did just that.
"Do you think she needs..." Leo furrows his brows and takes a glance around the yard before continuing. "Professional help?"
"You mean a shrink?"
He nods, looking at me with an expression I've never seen on his face before. Like he’s... helpless.
Fuck.
I clear my throat because I don't know how to answer. It would probably be good for her to talk about her issues to someone but... I'm sure professional confidentiality doesn't apply when it comes to Leo Hayes's daughter. I'm not worried about the cops, no. Leo is the one who'd make the therapist talk, and that doesn't work to Cobra's benefit at all.
If Leo finds out what’s troubling her...
There is a possibility that he'd take her out of the field, and it would make everything worse. She doesn't want to be treated differently.
Cobra wants to be normal.
She's fucking delusional thinking that she could be average, but I'll forgive her. We all live in some sort of bubble every now and then.
I place the end of the cig in the ashtray and clear my throat.
"You know... I don't think it's a good idea." I lift my eyes to Leo. "Let me talk to her. Don't do anything too extreme, okay?"
"But you'll keep me updated. If Cobra acts weird, or she seems like she's going to do something like this again, you will come to me. Understood?"
I nod, trying not to do it too fast. "Yeah, of course. I promise I'll keep an eye on her."
And I'm going do a fuck of a lot more than that.
I listen as Wolf explains what they found out about Wong's business, and like always, he is clear and straightforward. There’s basically no need for questions, but still, Puma interrupts him every minute. It gets on Wolf's nerves, and the vein in his forehead bulges as he tries to keep cool. He is much like Leo, he doesn't lose his shit quickly, but it's a fucking doomsday when it happens. When he starts to sigh and look at the ceiling and tap his foot, I poke Puma's side because he’s sitting beside me.
"Shut up and ask questions later, okay," I hiss at him. Puma glares at me in a way that tells me that he is thinking about smacking me on the head. For his own good, he doesn't.
"As I said." Wolf stretches his neck and sighs. "Wong's second-in-command said that even Wong never met this man, but they knew him by the name of Hunter. Wong had met once with one guy, who was the middleman's middleman. He'd been pulled from the street and paid to deliver something to an address. It was an empty house in a suburb, no one has lived there in years, but there was another address and date left on the table."
Leo leans his elbows on his desk, pressing his fingertips together, and looks at Wolf. "Someone is really making an effort to hide their identity." He pauses for a second and then leans back in his chair. "I need to meet with Romero myself."
"Why Romero? I thought Pronto Muerte didn't know anything," Falcon says and fiddles with her plug. She has stuck her finger through the stretched ear hole, and it looks weird as fuck.
"His guys will snoop around, and I want him to make a deal with this Hunter. Obviously, whoever he is, he is trying to get everyone to work behind my back." A wicked grin spreads to Leo's face. "Let's play his game."
"What about us?" Bear crosses his fingers behind his neck, staring at his father sharply. "Why can't we find the shit out?"
"Everyone knows who we are," Wolf answers his question before Leo has time. "Do you think anyone would make a coke deal with you?"
He has a valid point, and I see from Bear's face that he realizes it too. Leo nods, as if agreeing with Wolf. "Besides, when facing someone who is making this much effort, we need to be extra careful. But, there is something you can do."
Bear grins, his handsome face twisting into a devilish smirk, which makes him look absolutely insane. "The other address?"
Leo nods, unable to hide his amusement at Bear's reaction. I've learned that those two share the same level of bloodthirst. We are all comfortable around chaos and death, and taking someone's life isn't a problem for us, or maybe for Puma, it kind of is, but Leo and Bear are playing on the edge. Well hell, who am I to judge, we're all psychopaths on some level. Each and every one of us.
"It's the cargo, I'm sure. Take care of it. Find out where it came from, and I want every name you can carve out." Leo's face turns brutal as his brows draw together. "I need real names."
Falcon, who shares an almost comparable lust for killing as her brother and father, makes a ballet dancer curtsy with an angelic smile flashing on her face. "And names you shall have, father of mine."
She is just as crazy as her sister, but they share very different kinds of crazy. While Falcon numbs her pain by hurting others, literally, Cobra turns it inside and needs to feel the pain for herself. If there ever comes a day when their mental health reaches the limit… Falcon would fill the ocean with blood, and Cobra would be the on
e drowning herself in it.
And now… I'm going to find out what the fuck pushed her to the edge and made her try and get herself killed today.
19
The beeping sound is annoying as fuck, so I try to focus on my lucid dream, holding on to it as long as possible.
I know it's not real because things happening in it could never really happen.
It's us.
He paints a beautiful picture of a castle on the wall, a glimpse of a real fairy tale with a princess and a prince, knights, and unicorns. His jeans hang low on his waist, revealing the carved V-line on his abdomen when he turns to look at me with a beaming smile on his face. His eyes shimmer from happiness, and it's the most beautiful sight I've ever seen.
He's shirtless as always when he paints, and there are paint stains on his skin. The wild animal tattooed on his side has gotten its share of the paint, and now the black nose twitched into a roar is pink.
I can see him talking to me, but I can't hear him. I don't have to, though. I've never seen him as happy as he is in my dream. He walks through the room and crouches in front of me. Then, he places his palms to my belly. To my big round belly.
That's why I know this is a fucking dream.
No.
It's a fucking nightmare, messing with my head, torturing me with the things I'll never have. What we will never have.
A normal life.
A chance.
"She needs more meds. No, she's not awake, but I can see she's hurting. How much? Are you sure I won't fuck this up?"
Something touches my arm as the indistinct voice tries to linger in my dream, but I don't want to leave it. It can be a fucking nightmare, but he is there, and I don't want to give that up. Not yet. He kisses my big belly and looks up at me with his dark eyes, but there is no hint of darkness in them. I love to see him like this, unburdened.
"No, I haven't injected anyone before, what the fuck? I'm not a junkie, for fuck's sake. What happens if I miss the vein?"
Something wet wipes over the bend of my arm, and the smell of pure alcohol stings in my nose. No… not alcohol. Disinfectant.
I blink my eyes open and jerk my arm back. Or at least I try to. My head hurts from the bright lights, and I'm pretty sure only one eye opened because my line of vision is a bit crooked.
"Shh, it's okay, worm, it's just me." His voice is clear now, not muted as in my dream. I turn my head, and there he is. Not as happy as in my dream, no. The dark circles under his eyes tell me that he hasn't been sleeping for a while. Also, the stubble on his jaw hints that it's been at least a day since the last time he shaved.
Everything comes back to me in flashes. The date. The amusement park. Luke. The laughter. The joy. Lucky. The kiss. The normality. The pain.
And a quick rewind of how I numbed the pain. Eased it by embracing it—the KO.
"Stay still 'cause I have no fucking clue what I'm doing," Tiger says and wipes my arm again with something. He keeps the phone pressed against his shoulder while both hands are occupied with me.
Hastily I force my words out. "No, stop." My voice sounds like a dying crow. Clearing my throat hurts like a motherfucker, but I see the syringe in his hand, and I don't want it, so I make myself speak. "No. Don't… I don't need it."
He furrows his brows as he looks down at me, and I note that I'm lying on one of the beds in our medical room. There's no one else in the room, and slowly Tiger let's go of my arm and takes his phone with his hand.
"I'll get back to you," he says into it before tapping the screen black and placing it on the table beside the bed. Keeping his eyes on me at all times.
I admit it. I am in pain, not just emotionally but physically. Apparently, I received quite a good hit. Or a couple. But on purpose, just to feel this. I need the physical pain to balance the emotional distress, and I won't let him take it away from me with painkillers.
Maybe I kind of hoped that I wouldn't wake up again, but...
Only a little.
Tiger places his hands to the side of the bed and leans on it. He looks like there is a thunder of emotions inside of him. The sharp jaw tightens when he inhales deeply, and then he drops his head down, his muscled shoulders moving up and down with his breathing.
"Why?" He doesn't look at me, and I don't blame him. I wouldn't want to look at me either, because I know that if I feel this shitty, I must look even worse.
"I don't want the painkillers."
"I don't mean the fucking painkillers, Cobra," he growls and swings his head up, a pair of fierce eyes meeting mine. "Why the fuck did you act like a brainless idiot? You could've died!"
Ah. Yes. I don't want to disappoint him too. So, I'll try my next card—denial.
I shrug. "We agreed that we need them talking. I couldn't just shoot him."
"Oh, bullshit! You had two blades strapped around your thighs, and I know that you can use those. So, why?" Tiger's expression turns even more menacing, and even though his demeanor screams death and destruction, I don’t find myself being afraid of him. I don't know if it is trust or a death wish, either way, I confront him without blinking an eye. It pisses him off even more. "Don't you dare try lying to me again."
I can't. I don't want to talk to him about my headspace. Not to anyone, to be specific.
So, I stay quiet. If he doesn't want lies, that's what he gets.
Tiger straightens up, wipes his face while he starts to pace around the room. His tensed muscles move under his black T-shirt in a way that lets me know he wants to rip the entire mansion to pieces. It tears me up to see him like this. Always so on edge—because of me.
"I'm sorry," I whisper under my breath and fiddle with the sheets. I feel the urge to rip the IV needle from the back of my hand and carve my wrist open. End this agony, mine and his.
Tiger stops and stares at me. "What?"
"I said, I'm sorry."
"The fuck are you sorry for? For trying to kill yourself?" he snarls at me. "Yeah, baby girl, that covers it. You're sorry."
I lift my eyes, well, the one working eye to him. "What else do you want me to say?"
He storms next to the bed and slams his palms to the edge of it. I don't flinch from the outside, but my insides do. His rage tears down every wall I try to build because I feel the pain behind his mayhem.
"I want the fucking truth. Why?"
I just can't handle this anymore. Emotions strangle me more than he ever has. "I had fun."
Tiger's brows snap together. "Fun? You had fun when the fucker beat the shit out of you?"
"No. I meant…" My eyes wander to the sheets, and I feel my neck tingling. The pain from the memory. The fear of losing him. The embarrassment of betraying him like that. Even if we're not… anything. I had fun. He did not. "At the amusement park. I had fun."
He doesn't say anything for a while, but I feel his eyes on me. I can't make myself look at him. I know it would make me cry my eyes out.
"So, you felt bad for having fun and decided to punish yourself for it, am I right?" he finally asks.
I nod. That's all I can do.
"Why can't you have fun?"
"'Cause… you weren't," I murmur under my breath.
"Baby girl, look at me," he commands softly, but I can't. My body is frozen after saying those words out loud, revealing my demons. You're not supposed to share those. Everyone has their own, I have mine, and he has his. Tiger's fingers come to my jaw, and he carefully lifts my chin up, so I'm forced to meet his eyes. There's such softness in them that it breaks my heart. "Was it because you were having fun without me or having fun with him?"
I swallow, and it hurts so bad. "Both."
"Do you want to be with him?"
"No."
I know I don't. Luke is just a guy I fucked to forget and a guy I used to trick my family.
Tiger cracks me a slight smile. "Then the next time… don't fucking wreck your beautiful face 'cause of it, okay?" He leans to me, his warm breath on my ear, making my skin shiver. "'cause you kno
w I can make you hurt more than anyone else ever will, and I can do it without leaving marks."
Even with my train wrecked body, my core tightens at his words. His presence. "Then why do you leave them every time?"
"You're mine, that's why. As long as you don't let me mark you from the inside, I'll leave my marks on the outside." His tongue touches my neck, trails to the soft spot behind my ear, and then I feel him placing a kiss there. "You don't need anyone else, baby girl. I can give you everything you want."
I know his possessiveness is beyond a healthy relationship, which we don't have because we don't have a relationship, but I can't help but be taken by it. The power he holds over me is making me feel… safe. Like he could actually make sense to my wrecked brain.
But I also know that this is not a fairy tale.
Tiger is not my prince in shiny armor.
And I'm not a princess who could be saved.
"Tiger…" I whisper and close my eyes, gathering my breath, and trying to get my brain to work.
"Yeah, baby?"
"This is wrong on so many levels that you have to stop, please," I beg, I fucking beg him, even though I'm dying on the inside because I have to say it. If fairy tales were real, I would beg him to never stop.
I can hear him take a long inhale, like trying to keep calm, and then he exhales into my neck. Again and again. I stay still and quiet.
"You're making me lose my fucking mind, Cobra," he tells me, sliding his hand down from my jaw to my throat, and closes his fingers. My body reacts to it but not in a healthy way.
My body is as twisted as my mind, and it sparks like fireworks on the fourth of July. I can only imagine how Tiger would make me spark if he could do all the things he wants to do to me.
Why in the name of hell am I even thinking about this?
The sharp sting of pain on my neck makes my skin quiver when he bites me. Even though I told him not to, he's marking me, but I don't make a move to stop him. I want to be marked by Tiger. As fucked-up as it makes me feel, I crave him to take me to the edge. Make me feel everything. Entwine the pain with pleasure. Take me so high that everything else disappears.
