Lincoln

by S. Nelson

  Even though Tag was now conscious, when he opened his mouth to speak, no noise escaped. But when the tip of the blade pierced Tag’s flesh, separating his skin as Cutter moved the knife diagonally over his torso, Tag’s eyes popped open, and a pained groan hurdled through the air, deepening but getting louder with each inch of parted flesh.

  His arms and legs thrashed against his restraints, his eyes pleading with me, then Kaden, before Cutter finally lifted the knife. Blood dripped down Tag’s side and over the edge of the table. The cut wasn’t deep like a puncture wound, but it wasn’t superficial either.

  “Please,” Tag finally mumbled, his hands squeezing into fists while his chest rose and fell faster and faster.

  “Please what?” Hawke asked. “Please kill me fast? Is that what you want?”

  Tag vigorously shook his head, closing his eyes and breathing deeply through his nose before looking at us again.

  “I don’t… don’t under… stand. Please….”

  I turned so my back was to Tag and stared at our president, hoping he would reconsider his plan for disposing of someone I’d come to call a friend of sorts.

  “What if you’re wrong?”

  “I’m not,” he said, baring his teeth when he spoke. “He’s Vex’s son. I have proof.”

  “So what?”

  “So what?” he roared, gripping me up by my cut and pulling me so close the sight of him in front of me blurred. “Did you not hear what Vex did to my wife?” He shoved me back so hard I almost fell on my ass but caught myself at the last second, my arm swinging out and knocking into Jagger. “I’m gonna end the fucker’s lineage tonight.”

  3

  I huddled in the darkened corner of his room, fearful he’d come back for more once he finished partying with the others. Cowering had become my new normal, a way to protect myself against the blows that would come from either his fists or booted foot.

  The turn of the handle and the creak of the hinge pricking my ears made my breath stutter, all while my heart hammered away at such a furious pace, I feared the muscle would arrest any second. Soft illumination from the hallway surrounded his silhouette as he stood in the doorway. I saw his weathered brown boot first, then his jean-clad leg, my eyes traveling upward until his entire form came into view.

  He flicked on a light, the obtrusion blinding at first. “What happened this time?” he asked, pulling my arm away from my face. His touch wasn’t rough like the others, but I flinched, nonetheless. “What did you do, Maddie?”

  “I didn’t move fast enough.” Pike, whose real name was Cody, although I was warned not to call him that for fear someone might hear, shook his head, the pity in his eyes when he looked down on me enough to make my bottom lip tremble with sadness. The prospect of this club was the only one who was nice to me, when he could get away with it. If his friends were present, he treated me much like they did, without physically hurting me. His words were harsh yet dismissive. He told me he couldn’t show weakness in front of them because he’d pay for it, already had when he tried to interfere on my behalf my first night here. They beat him bloody before threatening his life if he ever chose pussy over them again.

  While Pike was the reason I was here in the first place, I didn’t blame him for what his buddies did to me. I’d met him soon after stepping off the bus, and although his tattoos and leather vest should have warned me he was dangerous, I ignored my instincts when he’d smiled at me.

  They didn’t have guys like him back home in Oklahoma, not where I grew up, at least. I’d been sheltered my entire life. The mere mention of boys sending my pastor father on one of his tirades about how I was to stay away from them, to never bring shame on our family by acting inappropriately. The entire spiel about saving myself until marriage ran on a constant loop anytime he saw me smile at someone of the opposite sex, whenever I was fortunate enough to encounter a boy at the grocery store or even in our church.

  Pike walked into the adjacent bathroom and turned on the faucet before returning and crouching down beside me. “Let me see.” I didn’t bother to say no because my protest would be useless. He lifted my head upward and placed the wet towel over the corner of my mouth. When he pulled it back to adjust the cloth, I saw the red stain. My tongue drifted over the cut, and I winced, like I’d done right after Griller, who was the leader of these bastards, punched me in the mouth earlier. He placed the towel back on my lip and held it there for a few seconds more. He heard me inhale, the corners of his mouth turning downward. “Sorry.”

  I looked into his eyes and saw not only pity but a flash of guilt as well. After all, it was because of him I was now a prisoner of the Savage Reapers, his club.

  After a few more awkward and silent moments, I pushed his hand away and slowly stood. When he reached out to help me, I slid my palm into his, the warmth of his hand providing a fleeting comfort.

  “Do you want somethin’ to eat?” he asked, tossing the washcloth on top of the cluttered dresser before shoving his hands in his pockets.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You’re wastin’ away, Maddie.”

  “So?” A flash of fury wafted over me. “Maybe I’ll die sooner than I prayed to.” I shuffled toward the bed and sat on the edge, even though resting anywhere near this mattress was the last place I wanted to be. But it wasn’t like I could waltz out of Griller’s room and flit about the club, or even dare to venture outside.

  No, the rules were simple.

  Stay put unless otherwise told.

  My previously fractured wrist proof of my momentary lapse in obedience.

  “I don’t know how to help you,” he whispered when he edged closer, glancing back toward the door before returning his attention to me.

  “You could help me escape.” I grabbed his arm and pulled him to sit beside me. Pike didn’t make me fear him like the others did. He’d only hit me when forced to do so. While his slap had stung, the force with which he struck me was mild, compared to everyone else’s.

  He tugged his arm away but kept his eyes steady on mine. “They’ll know it was me.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry but I… I can’t.”

  I nodded, understanding that he wasn’t gonna put his life in danger for me. A tear fell down my cheek, then another. I turned away from him when he tried to wipe my face with his thumb.

  He stood moments later, wrapping his fingers around the handle of the bedroom door.

  “Most of the guys are too drunk to stand, so I think you’re safe from them tonight.”

  “But not from him.”

  “Probably not. But one is better than five,” he said, his statement intended to comfort me in a strange sort of way.

  Without another word, he left, taking with him any ounce of hope I had, albeit delusional, about forming a plan to escape.

  When my eyes drifted closed sometime later, I dreamed of the stifled and bubbled life I’d had back home, and wished I’d known then that my life had been a dream.

  Now… it was a nightmare.

  4

  “We gonna drag this out, Prez?” Cutter shouted, gripping the large knife tightly in his hand, his eyes glazing over as if he enjoyed slicing into Tag.

  Marek looked first at his son, then at me. His expression was unreadable, but his delay in answering made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. If he wanted to give Tag a quick death, he could’ve. He could’ve shot him or instructed Cutter to stab him through the heart. But he did neither of those things. Instead, he wanted to draw out this torture for however long, showing me and Kaden a side of him we’d never witnessed before. And I gotta say, it terrified me.

  A nod from our leader was all it took to make Cutter smile, the perverse grin on his face sending shivers down my back. The guy was quiet and kept to himself, essentially not too personable, but I never thought he was twisted.

  Tag bellowed when Cutter dragged the blade across his chest once more, this time in the opposite direction, forming an X shape. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from th
e blood splattering on the ground, each drop tearing away all I thought I knew about these men. Shattering whatever ideals I held dear about our club.

  Not only were they set on torturing the guy, but some of them took enjoyment in the act, namely Cutter, Marek, and Hawke, who sported a devious grin of his own as he watched Tag writhe in pain.

  When Cutter switched the way he held the knife, gripping the handle with a tight fist, looking like he was gonna plunge it into Tag, I rushed toward him and grabbed his arm.

  “You better get your hand off me,” Cutter growled, flicking his eyes toward me when I refused. It wasn’t until my dad grabbed hold of my shoulder and squeezed that I complied.

  The second I took a step back, Cutter drove his knife into Tag’s side. The wail of pain that erupted from the guy pierced my ears as well as any sense of comprehension I held up until this point. Even if Tag was indeed a Reaper and had some sort of twisted plan for us, was that enough of a reason to torture him? What kind of war had our club endured in the past that made whatever happened now okay?

  “Enough!” Kaden shouted, rushing toward Cutter like I’d done seconds earlier. Only Kaden knocked the ol’ man back a step, getting in between him and Tag. “I don’t know what the hell you guys used to do in the past, but our club doesn’t run like that anymore. Wanna know how I know?” He paused for dramatic effect. “’Cause I’ve never fuckin’ killed anybody,” he shouted. “This ends now.”

  “You better move,” Hawke threatened, his shoulders rising to meet his neck. “You have no idea what you’re doin’.”

  “Neither do you.” Kaden stood firm, even when Marek approached. Both father and son had their fists balled, and there was no way to predict what was gonna happen because neither Kaden nor I had ever been in anything close to this type of situation. It was apparent, however, Cutter, Marek, Hawke, Jagger, and my ol’ man had been. Probably too many times, judging by their comfort level of what was happening in this basement.

  “Is this what you did? Kill people without givin’ ’em the chance to tell their side of the story? What if that was me on the table instead? Wouldn’t you want the Reapers to at least ask me if I meant them harm?” Kaden asked. “Or are you so hell-bent on exacting revenge for Mom that you’re blinded by the need to kill Tag just because he was related to Vex?”

  Marek’s movements were swift and precise, gripping up Kaden and shoving him against the nearest wall, spit flying from his mouth in his rage.

  “Don’t you dare trivialize my need for revenge for what happened to your mother. You have no idea what you’re talkin’ about. You’ve never seen all the scars on her body from what they did to her. You’ve never calmed her after one of her nightmares. So don’t stand there and lecture me when you’re talkin’ out your fuckin’ ass.” He released his son but continued to stand close. “You have no idea, Kaden. None. You and Linc live in a fairy tale. You’ve never seen what we have, which is the exact reason we went through hell in the first place. We wanted our families to have a better life. But this,” Marek said, pointing at Tag, “opens up wounds that never fully healed.”

  “But what if Tag really is innocent?” Kaden asked, never pulling his eyes from his ol’ man’s.

  “No one’s innocent,” Hawke interrupted.

  “Then why don’t we strap you to the table?” Kaden barked.

  Instead of Hawke responding, he smiled, enjoying this way too much.

  “Please.” Kaden’s shoulders slumped. “Just have someone do some research. If his story doesn’t check out, if he really didn’t move back here from Boston after being gone for decades, then…” He gave a half-hearted shrug. “Do what ya want.”

  Marek stared at his son in contemplation, narrowing his eyes before inhaling a deep breath. Once he released the air from his lungs, he turned to look at our VP.

  “Call him,” he said before swinging his attention to Cutter. “No more for right now.” The ol’ fucker looked disappointed, but he threw his knife on the table, the clanking noise enough to startle me though I watched the blade leave his hand.

  I didn’t know who he was, but whoever my ol’ man was gonna contact would hopefully put all this to bed, proving Tag was truly innocent.

  If he wasn’t… then he’d be dead soon.

  Marek stepped up next to Tag and leaned over him, grabbing a chunk of his hair and pulling his head up off the table.

  “Where did you come from?”

  “Boston,” Tag garbled, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.

  “Did you really not know your father?” Prez’s grip tightened.

  Tag winced, but I doubted the pain he felt had anything to do with his hair being pulled and everything to do with the wounds he suffered.

  “My mom sent… sent me to live with her parents when I was a little kid. I barely knew my dad. Then he disappeared.” Marek released his hold, and Tag’s head hit the table with a thump.

  “Damn right he did,” Marek sneered. He grumbled something to himself, then smacked his friend on the arm. They both ascended the basement steps a few strides later. Hawke followed, but Cutter stayed behind. Although I didn’t trust him, he wouldn’t blatantly go against what our leader said.

  “What about the hole in his side?” I asked, leaning down to get a better look. Blood continued to seep out, although it was slower than before.

  Without a single word, the ol’ man walked to the other side of the room and picked up a blow torch. When the fire erupted from the end of it, he grabbed his knife and held the flame against the steel tip. I watched in disbelief when he then held the heated knife over the wound on Tag’s side, the sound he made at first contact making me wince.

  “What the fuck is goin’ on?” Kaden asked. Of course, his question was rhetorical because I didn’t have an answer. He knew as much as I did.

  But I supposed we were gonna find out if Tag would live or die soon enough.

  5

  “Let’s go!” Griller shouted in my face. I was barely awake, and already I was tossed out of his room and dragged down the hallway. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I focused on the scene in front of me when I entered the main part of the clubhouse.

  I wasn’t a neat freak by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, my parents used to yell at me all the time to clean up my room or put my dishes in the sink when I was done instead of leaving them all over the place, but I never once lived in utter filth like these guys did.

  The floor was sticky beneath my feet, and I cursed myself for not slipping on my sneakers before coming out here, but with the way he pushed me forward, I probably didn’t have time for the simple act anyway.

  There appeared to be hundreds of beer bottles and cans strewn all around the room, some of them spilling the rest of the contents on the floor, bar, and even parts of the sofa. A fog of smoke lingered in the air, thick enough to offend my senses even though I didn’t believe anyone had smoked anything for hours.

  “Get to work.” Before Griller staggered back toward his room, he shouted over his shoulder, “Hurry up. Don’t make me wait too long, or else.” I remembered all too well what his “or else” entailed, often resulting in a black eye or sore ribs.

  While I looked at the passed-out bodies of the members as well as the half-naked women who accompanied them, I wished again, for the millionth time, for God to save me from this hell. But something told me He was either too busy or just chose not to help me. Maybe He was punishing me for being stupid and going with Pike in the first place, a stranger who disarmed me with his smile. Whatever the reason, I was stuck until one of these guys either killed me or I killed myself—the latter not ideal since I’d been raised to believe suicide was a sin.

  As I worked around the unconscious people, I gently placed the trash in a bag, careful not to make too much noise because if I woke up anyone, they’d punish me. Sometimes their cruelty was enough to make my mind drift off to another place, leaving my body behind to do with whatever they wanted. It wasn’t like I had a say i
n the matter, so I learned to adapt each time one of them held me down and thrust inside me. I was thankful they didn’t demand I watch them because I needed the darkness to fly away into another realm of reality in order to survive, albeit barely.

  Sometimes only one of them would have a go at me, and sometimes it was one after the other. In the beginning, I begged and cried, but they didn’t care. The only one who seemed affected was Pike, and the first time he interjected on my behalf, they took turns hitting him before forcing him on top of me.

  The torment I saw laced behind his eyes was enough for me to stop struggling… then I gave him a nod, a brief sign of my acceptance for the situation we were both in. I realized he didn’t have a choice either, so I closed my eyes and let him push into me. Thankfully, he was fast, groaning when he finished. I thought I heard him whisper, “I’m sorry,” but I was so lost inside myself, I couldn’t be sure.

  Buried deep inside my horrid memories, Pike startled me when he came up behind me, dropping a bottle into my trash bag. The clanking noise made me cringe, but when none of the men stirred, I relaxed.

  “I’ll help you.” I held the garbage bag firm when he tried to take it from me. I knew this wasn’t a trick, but I was fearful all the same. Not of him, but of what would happen if Griller happened to come out here and see him assisting me.

  “I’m fine.” He tugged on the bag once more. “I have to go back to his room when I’m finished.” I gave him a pleading look, one he unfortunately understood. A curt nod was thrown my way before he walked out of the clubhouse.

  Even though Pike was the one who brought me here and had sex with me in front of the other guys, I saw how my treatment pained him. I didn’t blame him for my circumstances. Well… not entirely, at least.