Mykel: King's Descendants MC #3

by Bella Jewel

  I want to cry.

  But I don’t.

  I walk into the bathroom and right over to the sink. I turn the water on and I start scrubbing. I scrub and scrub until all I can see is a bloodied mess in basin, and even then, my hands are still stained. The blood won’t leave. Blood that was, only hours ago, in someone else’s body. I swallow the lump in my throat and keep washing, scrubbing until my fingers feel raw.

  “Waverly . . .”

  Mykel’s voice comes from behind me, but I don’t turn.

  I don’t look at him. I just keep washing.

  “It won’t come off,” I say softly. “It won’t come off, Mykel. I keep washing it but it won’t go away . . .”

  My voice hitches and in moments, he’s behind me. He reaches for the medicine cabinet and comes up with a different bottle soap. I don’t know what it is, but quietly he reaches for my hand and takes it, turning me slightly towards him. I don’t look at him; I just keep staring at my hands. He puts a few pumps of the cleanser into my palm and starts rubbing it in. It’s grainy, but it works. Immediately, the blood starts coming out of my skin. Mykel rubs and rubs, massaging it between my fingers, over my palm and down my wrist.

  I just watch him work, staring at my hands like they’re foreign to me. It feels like they’re not my own.

  “There was so much blood,” I whisper.

  “I’m goin’ to get it off, yeah?”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  He washes my hands until they’re clean, so clean I can’t see a single speck of blood left. Once he’s done with that, he stands before me and points to my clothes. “Take them off. I’ll get rid of them.”

  I stare down, still caked in blood and dirt—far more than I first thought. I don’t cry, even though the lump in my throat is making me feel like I might just crumble to the ground and not get back up. I carefully start stripping out of my clothes, not caring that Mykel is in here. I don’t care about anything else except getting this blood off. Everything else means little, in the scheme of things.

  Mykel turns the shower on as I get undressed, and when I’m completely naked, he turns back towards me. For a moment, he just stares, his eyes a little hooded. But, he doesn’t look at me like he wants to eat me alive and fuck my brains out. He looks at me with a new appreciation that I haven’t seen in gaze before. He’s looking at me like he completely respects that I trust him enough to take my clothes off, to let him help me. He looks at me like I’m brave, and strong.

  I like how he’s making me feel in this horrid time. His eyes are making my soul feel a little less broken.

  He steps forward and reaches his hand out, running a finger over a sore spot above my eye. “You’ve got a cut. Did someone hurt you?”

  I shake my head. “No. I had a bit of an accident with the shovel.”

  As soon as I say those words, my throat feels tight. I hate that I just buried a man, a cop . . .

  “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He hands me the soap he just used to clean my hands, and he explains that I need to rub it all over me a few times and wash it off. I step into the shower, and I do as he asks. I wash myself until my skin is so clean it’s actually sore. Only then do I step out. Mykel has already removed my clothes, cleaned the sink, and has some fresh items for me on the counter top.

  Nobody would ever know I just defiled his bathroom with the blood of another man.

  “Get changed. Zariah is here; she’s goin’ to want to talk to you. You up for that?”

  I nod.

  I have to tell them what happened. I have to go out there and explain exactly what went down. How Dax killed Bennett, how I promised to help him, how I made sure to carefully mark the way to where we buried him. I got as much information as I possibly could, and I think it may just be enough to end this.

  But I’m scared.

  I’m scared because my DNA is now all over the crime scene.

  I’m scared somehow, some way, I’m going to be linked to all of this.

  A dead body was never in the plan.

  Never.

  I dry off, and Mykel leaves the room so I can get dressed. When I’m done, I stare at myself in the mirror and the woman staring back at me makes me cringe and turn away. When I was going into this, if I had known that I’d feel this way, I would have said no. I would have run in the opposite direction.

  I don’t want to be this woman.

  Yet, I don’t want to be the woman who stands back and lets all those other girls suffer.

  Either way, I’m a damned mess.

  I take a deep breath and walk out into the living area where everyone is sitting, patiently waiting for me to tell them what happened. Waiting for me to share all the details on an event that’s going to change absolutely everything. None of this is going to plan. Nothing is working out how it should, and I’m not sure yet if that’s a good or a bad thing.

  All I know is it’s time for it to end, because I can’t take a whole lot more.

  Zariah leaps up as soon as I enter the room and comes running over, throwing her arms around me. She hangs onto me tightly for longer than a few minutes. I let her, because I need it. I need her reassurance; I need her to tell me everything is going to be okay and that I’m not going to get into trouble for what happened tonight.

  “I’m not going to let anyone harm you, or put you away. I swear it to you, Waverly. I’ll make sure this doesn’t touch you.”

  I take those words in, letting them sink into my soul because I really needed to hear them. I close my eyes, take a deep breath and stand back. Alarick walks over, putting a hand on my shoulder and meeting my eyes. “You good?”

  “I’m not . . . No, no, I’m not.”

  I was going to say I’m not sure, but the truth is I am sure. I’m not okay, and I need them to step in now and make it better, because I can’t seem to get myself on the right side of things at this current point.

  Alarick squeezes my shoulder and then asks, in a careful tone, “What happened tonight?”

  I glance at Mykel, who is standing by the kitchen counter, leaning against it, his eyes never leaving mine. My heart swells and I find myself wanting to go over there and let him make me feel better, just like he did when we were in the bathroom. I don’t do that, though. I stand, trying to look like I’m not as terrified as I feel, and then I tell them what happened.

  “I arrived and Bennett was on the ground, dead. It was . . . horrific. Dax had just hit him so many times, stabbed him. Absolutely horrible, and I never want to see anything like that again in my life. I had to keep calm, so I asked him what happened. He was freaking out—said they got into a fight because Bennett had told him there was a change of plans. Then, he said he just lost it.”

  “Do you know what plans he wanted to change?” Zariah asks.

  I shake my head. “I just had him tell me what he was doing, and he did. He told me that he sells girls, but he didn’t tell me he sells them to monsters. He left that part out, but he told me enough. He’s freaking out, because he knows Peter is going to bring down the thunder, and not to mention he just killed a cop. I had to think on my feet, so I told him we should bury Bennett and work out the rest from there. So that’s what we did . . .”

  “Oh, honey,” Briella says, her voice soft.

  Yeah, I can imagine what they’re all thinking right now.

  I’d be thinking the same thing.

  What I just did was the absolute worst, and I’m totally not okay. Not even close.

  “I marked the trees when he wasn’t looking,” I whisper. “I made sure to remember where we buried his body so that you can find it, so that Dax can be taken down. This is your chance to remove them, to take out the trash. They’re going to be off their game, and things are going to blow up, especially when Peter finds out. Dax already knows if the cops go looking, they’re going to figure out what was going on and it’s going to be the end of him. Bennett was the only thing keeping it all a secret . . .”

  “You’re right. This is our cha
nce,” Alarick murmurs. “But we gotta be careful, plan it perfectly. Don’t want you suffering through anymore, Waverly. You’ve been incredible, but I’m not goin’ to let you get hurt. We’ll finish this; we’ll get you out of there. I swear it.”

  I swallow and nod, and then I rub my arms, feeling cold even though I’m not. “I need to lie down, if you all don’t mind. If I recall anymore, I’ll let you know. I just . . . I can’t think right now.”

  “Of course,” Zariah says, hugging me again. “I meant what I said, honey. Nobody is going to take you down for this. I’ll make sure of it.”

  I nod, and then glance at Mykel once more before walking down the hall and into my room.

  As soon as I’m there, I lower myself to the ground and I cry.

  I cry so hard my body shakes.

  I buried a man tonight.

  I put human flesh into the ground and covered it up.

  I got covered in someone else’s blood.

  Am I a monster now, too?

  11

  WAVERLY

  I don’t know how long I sit on the floor, crying, but when the door opens and someone comes in, I can’t even find the strength to look up. I just want to sit here, and sob, and let my body heal a little more before I stand and go to bed. I hope it’s not Zariah—not because I don’t love her, but because she’s a cop, and she just doesn’t understand.

  When big strong arms wrap around me and lift me up, I blink through blurred vision to see Mykel carrying me to the bed. He’s helping me, even though I’m sure he doesn’t want to. He’s making me feel better during a time when I honestly don’t know how I will cope on my own. He lays me down on plush mattress and pulls the covers over me, and then he sits beside me, and when I gaze into his eyes, my heart aches a little.

  He’s actually looking at me with appreciation, with kindness. A look I’ve not seen from him. A look I’ve been craving so heavily since the moment I met him. He’s seeing me for the first time, and I want to cry with happiness. He reaches down and swipes a piece of tear-soaked hair from my eyes, and then murmurs, “The first dead body I saw, it fucked me up, too. It always does. It’s somethin’ you don’t forget easily. It’s somethin’ that stays with you. But you gotta know it wasn’t on you, Waverly. Wasn’t your fault.”

  “I helped bury him,” I whisper, and then another sob tears from my throat. “I helped dig the hole. I helped shove his body into it. I heard the thud as it hit the bottom. I watched a life just vanish, just like that . . .”

  Mykel takes my face in his hands, and orders me to look at him. I do, mostly because there’s nowhere else to look when he’s holding onto me like that. “You did not fuckin’ do anything wrong. The club put you in this, and it’s exactly why I wanted you fuckin’ out from the start. It’s not right, and it’s not somethin’ you should have been forced to deal with.”

  “I wasn’t forced,” I say, softly. “I wanted to do it, Mykel.”

  “Yeah, and I fuckin’ said you shouldn’t for a reason.”

  “I thought that reason was that you didn’t like me.”

  He makes a low growling sound in his throat. “I like you, Waverly.”

  “You do?” I confirm, gently.

  “Yeah, I fuckin’ do.”

  I start crying again, for what reason? I don’t know. Maybe because it feels good to hear those words. Or maybe because I’m just so damned exhausted.

  “Come with me. I want to show you somethin’,” he murmurs, pulling the covers back and reaching for my hand.

  I push up, swipe my tears away, and then take his hand and let him lead me from the room. He tells me to wait a minute and when he returns with the key to the locked room, guilt slams into my chest. I feel bad that I’ve gone into that room already, and looked at what he’s got in there, but I figure that’s a secret I’m just going to have to keep. I want him to show me this, and I want to know what it is he plans on sharing with me.

  He opens the door and when we step inside, he flicks the light on, I let my eyes fall on the massive board that he’s got set up. I stare at it for a long moment, and after a second, I turn to him and say, “What’s all this?”

  He walks in, taking it all in. “My parents went missing out of nowhere. I never believed they just decided to up and leave; they wouldn’t do that. This house, this life—they loved it. They went on a vacation, and never came back. Got the cops to look into it, but no real leads ever came out of it, and they told me they were likely dead or had decided to create a new life for themselves somewhere else.”

  “That’s . . . shitty.”

  “They’re not dead—I’m almost sure of it. I’ve been piecing it together for years, but none of it makes sense. I’ll find out what happened to them, though.”

  “Is that what all this is?” I ask, staring at the board. “The information you’ve gotten?”

  “Yeah,” he tells me, stepping forward. “It’s the information the cops gathered as well as the information I’ve gotten on my own. I was gettin’ close to findin’ somethin’ but then all this shit with Dax happened and I’ve been focused on the club.”

  I step forward and point to the girl in the photo I saw the other day. Harlow. “Who is that?”

  “She’s got somethin’ to do with it, but fucked if I can work out how. When all of this happened, the cops traced my parents’ movements and we traced it to this club.” He points to a clubhouse on the board near the picture of the three men. “After that, their trail went cold. We couldn’t find anything to indicate where they had gone. This is the last photo of them.”

  I stare at the picture of his parents. It’s a semi-blurred camera shot in what looks like some sort of bunker. They’re both standing, staring at something or someone. They don’t look distressed, but they’re definitely focusing on something. I squint and lean in a little farther, looking at every aspect of the photo.

  “The cops said it meant nothin’, and that’s when they gave up. But I kept lookin’, and what did I see?”

  I shake my head, confused.

  “Look closer,” he murmurs, pointing to the lower right-hand corner of the photo.

  In it, there’s a shot of someone’s arm. It’s hard to see, and unless you’re looking closely, you wouldn’t notice, because there are a few other people in the photo. This arm, though, is extended, like whoever it belongs to has just handed something to Mykel’s parents.

  “That arm belongs to Harlow. Took me a fuckin’ long time to find her. The only way I could locate her was that unique tattoo beneath her palm. Cost me a lot to get it cleaned up enough to see what it is.”

  “What is it?” I ask, squinting and leaning in closer. It’s really difficult to see. There is some sort of design on the inside of her wrist that runs up her inner forearm a little.

  “That.” He points to another picture of a blown-up tattoo that’s a little clear. It’s definitely unique—a pattern of sorts, with a cross and three names on it, though you can’t see the names. The unique part, however, is the symbols that are above it. They’re, not Japanese, not Chinese, but some sort of symbols that clearly stand for something. It looks like a personally designed tattoo.

  “I went to every studio in New York, and finally, after fuckin’ weeks, I found the man who did it. He wouldn’t talk at first, but with a little persuasion, he told me her name and that’s as far as I got. I couldn’t find her and still haven’t been able to find her since. All I know is that she’s part of this somehow.”

  I mean, he could be right, but it could also be a huge coincidence that her hand just happened to be in the picture. She could have been dancing; she could have been a waitress handing over a drink. It could have been a mix of things.

  “What if it doesn’t have anything to do with her, and you’ve been chasing the wrong lead?”

  He looks to me, his eyes narrowing. “How so?”

  “I’m not saying you’re wrong or anything,” I say quickly. “I’m just wondering what if that hand has nothing to do wit
h anything? She could have just been someone in the picture who happens to look like she’s handing something over?”

  He frowns, as if this hasn’t even crossed his mind. “You think I’m lookin’ for the wrong thing?”

  “No, not at all. I just think you need to expand your horizons, so to speak. What about the other people in the picture? Have you talked to the owners of that club? Have you investigated that side of things?”

  He stares at me, and then steps forward, taking my face in his hands and shocking me entirely. “You are somethin’ else, Waverly. Help me with this.”

  He’s asking for my help?

  Oh god.

  He wants my help.

  My heart swells and I smile. “I’ll help you. We’ll find out what happened to your parents.”

  “My sister had them officially declared dead after five years, and I haven’t spoken to her since. She stopped calling me when she found out I inherited the house.”

  “I didn’t know you had a sister. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

  “I’ve got two sisters and a brother, none that live close.”

  “Are you close to them?” I ask.

  “None of them have had a great deal to do with me when I took over this house. They think I did something to have it handed to me, but I didn’t. I just stuck around when Mom and Dad needed me. They got a lot of fuckin’ money when it all went down. They certainly didn’t fuckin’ miss out.”

  They sound selfish—not that I’m going to tell him that because that would be rude. “I’m sorry that happened, but I’ll try to help you solve this the best I can. God knows I need the distraction.”

  He studies me, his eyes intense. “You shouldn’t be goin’ back in there, Waverly. It’s dangerous.”

  “Yeah,” I say softly. “Yeah, I know.”

  “You don’t owe the fuckin’ club a thing.”

  “No, I don’t, but I made them a promise, and I’m going to keep that promise because they need me to do that. Not only do they need me to do it, but the girls whose lives are being destroyed by Dax need me to do it.”