by Bea Paige
23
Three years ago
“What the fuck happened to you, Kid?” Dax asks. “You’re shivering.”
“I’m fine, just leave it, okay?” I mutter turning my back on him and striding away. Pulling my hood up over my head, I keep walking, determined to be left alone. I’ve gone through enough tonight. Behind me, I hear the engine of his motorbike rev and in seconds he’s cruising beside me. It’s late, well past midnight, and rather than being tucked up in bed, or in the basement with the Breakers, I’m walking the streets trying to clear my head. Fat chance of that with Dax following me.
“Pen! Stop!” Dax growls, swerving his motorbike across my path. He kicks down the footrest and switches the engine off, tugging his helmet free. “We’ve been looking for you all damn night, Kid. You’re avoiding us.”
“I needed a break… just let it go, okay?” I try to step around him, and the brand new motorbike given to him on the back of shady dealings with Jeb and the Skins. The truth is, I have been avoiding them. Ever since that night in the cemetery, I’ve ignored their calls and made excuses about not being able to meet up with them. Apart from the one occasion I bumped into Zayn while walking Lena to school last week, they’ve not been all that hard to avoid since they’re all so busy being one of the Skins and breaking bones in Jeb’s name.
“No, I won’t let it go. We won’t. You can tell me what the fuck is up right now, or I’ll just follow you around all night. No skin off my nose,” he warns.
“Why do you have to be so stubborn, huh? This ain’t your problem to fix, it’s mine.” I glare at him, gritting my jaw to try and prevent all my truths from spilling free. I’m hurt, sad, angry, so fucking angry. I’m also terrified and that keeps my lips sealed shut.
“That’s where you’re wrong kid. Your problems are my problems. They always will be, I swear it.”
“Please just leave me alone,” I say, my voice cracking. I just want my Breakers back. The kids who danced with me, laughed with me, comforted, and protected me. Those boys are slowly fading, being replaced instead with men who’ll do anything Jeb asks.
“Is it your mum? Did she hurt you again?” he asks, ignoring me completely.
I shake my head furiously. It would be so much easier if it was her. Dax steps closer, reaching for me cautiously like he knows I’m close to laying into him. He understands how I’m feeling. Of all of the Breakers, he fucking gets it. I hate that. I hate that he knows where my pain comes from because he’s suffered the same way I have.
“Who then?” His fingers find my shoulders, and the bruises covered by my jumper. I let out a yelp. “Who did this to you, Kid?” he asks, releasing his hold on my arms, and cupping my face instead, forcing me to look up at him. He doesn’t need me to answer, because the person tormenting me pulls up alongside us in his car.
“Get your hands off my sister, motherfucker,” David snarls through the open window of his Audi. The sleek black exterior and alloy wheels bought with blood money and violence are nothing but a reminder of what and who he is, a fucking twisted psycho who loves to hurt me. Dax instantly reacts, automatically pushing me behind him. I reach for his arm, squeezing tightly.
“Please don’t,” I murmur.
Ignoring me, Dax draws himself up to his full height. David might have a few years on him, but Dax is as tall as my brother and as broad. He also has a name for himself now, cemented by the very real violence he can unleash at the behest of Jeb. Just like the other Breakers, Dax is a fighter, a violent one at that. So when I see hesitation in David’s eyes I know that it’s warranted, even if my brother chooses to ignore his own sense of self-preservation. They’d be equally matched in a fist fight, but my brother has never, ever, played by the rules. He’d pull out a weapon in a second.
“You stay the fuck away from Pen,” Dax growls, ignoring my pleas. He wants to protect me, except right now I just need him to leave because my brother isn’t someone he can mess with and live to tell the tale. David fights dirty.
“Or what, Breaker? You’ll snap one of my bones?” David laughs cruelly, his finger tapping against the window frame as his gaze flicks between me and Dax.
“No, I’ll fucking kill you.”
David starts laughing loudly, the sound reverberating around the quiet street. “Need I fucking remind you that it’s the Skins before whores?”
“Pen is not a whore, you piece of shit, and I have no affiliation to you.”
“Full of fucking bravado aren’t you, Dax? Just like the other little boys you hang around with. Jeb’s protection won’t last long, mate, so don’t threaten me if you know what’s good for you.”
The door to David’s car cracks open and Dax readies himself for the fight, but the sound of motorbikes approaching gives David pause. I snap my head around to see three familiar motorbikes roaring down the street. The rest of my Breakers are here and my stomach bottoms out. I want to yell at them to turn around and go, but fear keeps my voice quiet and my throat constricted. As they pull up, Xeno climbs off his motorbike first, yanking off his helmet. His hair is dishevelled and his face a mask of rage. David scoffs, looking at Xeno with a sneer.
“You, little sister, need to find some new friends.”
“Fuck you, David!” I seethe, suddenly finding my voice. The second his gaze meets mine I know I’ve made a grave mistake. I’ve learnt the hard way that defiance only ever fuels the monster that rules him.
“I would’ve thought that by now you’d learn some respect, Penelope. Looks like you’ve still got a lot to learn,” he says with a wide smile that only makes his threat that much worse.
“Get the fuck out of here!” Xeno growls, stepping towards him.
“See you soon, Penelope.” David laughs, slamming his car door. He hits the gas, speeding off into the night.
A breath of air whooshes out of me and my knees buckle just as Xeno reaches my side. He hauls me upright against his chest, pressing a surprising kiss against my hair. I’ve never been more relieved to smell burning rubber than I do at this point.
“I’m not going to ask if you’re okay because I can tell that you’re not,” Xeno says, concern edging his voice with a violence of its own. “Take her back to my place. I’ll be there soon,” Xeno drops his arm from around my shoulder and Dax takes me gently into his arms, nodding tightly.
“Not the basement?” Zayn asks, looking between us all. He reaches for my hand, taking it gently. It’s a simple gesture, one of solidarity and friendship. He doesn’t need to tell me he cares. I already know, and yet, why does it feel so different now?
Xeno shakes his head. “No, not the basement. Not anymore.”
York steps close, lifting my chin, his icy-blue eyes full of ire. “That fucking bastard,” he growls, anger seeping out of every pore as he takes a good look at me. Beneath the anger is pity and for some reason that makes me feel so much worse. I don’t want to be pitied. I don’t want to feel so fucking helpless. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. York frowns, reading me, understanding what I can’t even begin to articulate right now.
“York, go with Dax. You know where to find the spare key. Mum and Dad are away for a while, so there’ll be no questions,” Xeno says, before turning to Zayn. “Come with me, we need to speak with Jeb.”
Zayn nods once, presses a kiss against my cheek, then follows Xeno. They both climb back onto their motorbikes, and I watch as they pull on their helmets and speed off down the street.
“Hop on, Kid,” Dax says, guiding me to his bike. I stall, not wanting to be anywhere near an object bought for him by the man who rules the boys I love and who also turns a blind eye where my brother’s concerned. I’ve no idea how many people the Breakers have hurt, or the women David’s beaten, but I’m betting it’s a lot.
Sensing my unease, York reaches for me, tipping my chin up to meet his gaze. “It’s just a short ride to Xeno’s, we need to get you somewhere warm. You’re freezing, Titch.”
“Okay,” I mutter, too exhausted to argue. I climb on behin
d Dax, and put on the spare helmet York gives me, hoping I can still trust these boys.
“Drive safe, Dax. No wheelies, got it?” York warns.
Dax revs the bike, kicking back the footrest. “What do you take me for, man? I’ve got precious cargo right here,” he retorts, sliding the vizor closed and turning the bike away.
Half an hour later, I’m sitting on Xeno’s bed, wearing his t-shirt and a pair of his jogging bottoms after showering and changing clothes. My hair is still a wet, tangled mess, but I couldn’t find a comb to brush it out and decided that I don’t really care all that much about what I look like. There’s nothing I can do to hide the ugly bruises blooming on my skin, so what’s the point? I gently pull up the sleeve of my t-shirt and press against the purple bruise on my upper arm, trying and failing to stop the cry of pain releasing from my lips.
David has always taken pleasure in hurting me, but this attack was particularly violent. It’s as though he’s been saving up his rage to unleash on me, his favourite punching bag.
“I’ve got some Arnica gel for your bruises. Dax said it helps,” York explains, entering the room as I quickly pull down the sleeve of my t-shirt. “I’ve also made you a cup of tea and a sandwich.”
“Thanks,” I mumble as he places the tray on the side table and sits down on the bed beside me. I hold my hand out for the gel, but York picks it up, unscrews the cap and squirts some onto the tip of his fingers. I look at him warily.
“I promise I’ll be gentle,” he says softly.
I nod, beyond exhausted at this point. He shuffles closer, his fingers pressing lightly against my bruised skin. “He really deserves to fucking die,” York mutters.
Any response I have is swallowed up, buried beneath bitterness and pain. I want to point out that York is part of the same crew my brother belongs to. That he lives by the same rules. What had my brother said? Skins before whores? Is this how it’s going to be from now on? My brother gets to beat the shit out of me for kicks and my Breakers have to stand back and watch because of some stupid gang rule? They rescued Dax and I from Dante’s Crew and meted out their punishment, but I have to take David’s abuse because he’s one of them?
I suck a pained breath through my teeth as York begins to rub in the gel. He works quietly, diligently, not stopping as Dax enters the room and makes himself comfortable on the other side of me. It’s just as well Xeno has a large double bed as the three of us wouldn’t be able to fit otherwise.
“Are there any more bruises, Titch?” York asks.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Want to show me where?”
“On my back, my stomach, and chest.” Behind me Dax growls, and out of the corner of my eye I can see his fist clenching around the duvet, his knuckles turning white. I hold out my hand for the tube of gel. “I’ll do them.”
For a moment it falls silent, but when Dax shifts behind me, drawing in a jagged breath as his fingers reach for the hem of my t-shirt, my heart pounds for an entirely different reason. “Dax, what are you…?”
“Do you trust us, Kid?” he asks so quietly that I almost think that I’ve misheard him. The question is, do I trust them? I want to. I want to believe that they’re still the boys I love, but I the seed of doubt has been planted. I’ve heard the rumours. I’ve seen the evidence of their affiliation and their violence. Yet, right now, they’re just York and Dax, two boys I love, and if I can’t trust in that, what can I trust in?
“Yes,” I say simply, hoping my instincts are right.
24
Present Day
After two days of dance lessons that I should’ve enjoyed, but didn’t, I head towards Madame Tuillard’s studio for more rehearsals. It’s past five pm and I’ve just hoovered down a cheese sandwich and an apple to appease my growling stomach. It’s the first thing I’ve eaten all day. Breakfast consisted of coffee and thin air. Lunch was no different, and I’m still feeling lightheaded, my modest meal barely sustaining me. I’m running on empty and a little jittery from all the coffee I’ve consumed but I push on knowing that I can’t fuck this up. Monday might have been torture being paired up with Dax, but I’ve got to get over my shock at the Breakers returning if I’m going to survive the year here. Suck it the fuck up, basically.
Swigging down water to appease my still growling stomach, I jog along the corridor on the third floor, already late. My phone vibrates against my arse, and I yank it out of my back pocket. The second my eyes land on the caller ID, my quick meal decides it wants to break free from my stomach. Swallowing hard, I push open the nearest door into Studio Five and am relieved to find it empty. I don’t need any witnesses to this conversation.
“Hello, Penelope,” the voice from my nightmares says.
“David,” I respond, making my voice sound strong even when the rest of me is shaking. My legs give way and I slide down the wall, landing on my arse.
“How are you?”
I almost laugh at the question, at the normality of it, as though he really is just a relative concerned for my well-being. I know better, but I humour him anyway. “Fine, and you?”
“Oh, you know, keeping busy with work. Business is booming, Penelope. Perhaps one day I’ll bring you over to Mexico and show just how well I’m doing.”
Over my dead body. Slamming my lips shut on those words, I choose not to respond. My silence is deafening. David laughs, the sound affecting me the same way as nails scraping down a blackboard would.
“I hear that the Breakers are back. You know what that means, don’t you?”
“It’s not what you think. I have no control over what they do, or Jeb does, for that matter,” I blurt out quickly, panic rising. Surely he can’t blame me for something his leader has set up. It’s not as if any of this is in my control. David laughs again and the sound sends me hurtling back to that night that I wish I could change with every cell of my being.
“Oh, I don’t know. I think you like the fact they’ve returned. You never were as happy as when you were with them. Such a slutty little girl, aren’t you?”
“It’s not like that. It wasn’t like that. They were my friends and now they’re not. You got what you wanted, David. Why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone!” I shout, anger overriding the fear I feel.
The line remains silent for a moment and all I can hear is the rushing and pulsing of blood in my ear. David would often fall silent before the rage took over. I wait for it to come. The inevitable tidal wave of destruction.
“Except I don’t have what I want, Penelope,” he responds, deadly calm. If it weren’t for the fact I know it’s impossible, I would almost believe that he could reach down the phone and throttle me right now. His words are laced with violence that reaches me across miles and miles of ocean. Will I never be far enough away from him?
“David, please. They’re not my friends. They’re not anything to me anymore. They won’t ever be anything to me again. You got what you wanted. I hate them,” I force out, putting all my hate for David into that one sentence and hoping he believes me, because I certainly don’t.
“Let’s see, shall we? Let’s see just how much you hate them, how far you’re willing to go to prove to me that I can trust you to keep your promises.”
“What do you mean?” My voice is shaking now, and I hate that I can’t hide my fear from him.
“Remember the deal we made. One false move and I’m cashing in, Penelope.”
“Please, you can’t. I’ve done everything you’ve asked. What else can I do?”
“That’s rich. You’re nothing but a lying bitch.”
“I don’t understand…”
“I know everything, Penelope. You must think I’m fucking stupid. I know that I wasn’t the only one you made a deal with that night!” He’s shouting now, the precarious hold on his temper gone.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” I fumble, my body trembling.
“Don’t fuck with me, Penelope. I’m not an idiot. You think I’m a fool. I’
m here in Mexico because I wanted to be here, not because you made a deal with Jeb to send me away. He’s not as powerful as he thinks he is.”
“David, I…” Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. He can’t know. How can he know? I was so careful.
“Don’t try and fucking deny it, Penelope. It’ll only be worse for you if you do.”
My stomach rolls over and there’s nothing I can do to stop myself from retching. My quick meal spills out over the floor beside me, a steamy pile of sick that ruins the perfectly polished wood. He knows what I did. He knows about the deal I made with Jeb. Why am I even still alive? All those thoughts ricochet inside my head as he continues on ranting.
“Three years might have passed. You might think you’ve gotten away from me, but my reach is far and wide. I can get to you all with one fucking word! You’d be wise not to underestimate me again. I still own you and don’t you fucking forget it.”
“David, I swear to you, I’m not involved with the Breakers…” I swipe at my mouth with the back of my hand, swallowing the bitter aftertaste of my scared seventeen year old self’s poor decisions. I was a fool to ever believe I could outsmart my brother.
“But here’s the thing, Penelope. You’re going to be.”
“What?!” I snap. “I don’t understand.”
“Jeb is up to something and I don’t fucking like it. I’m the reason his business is booming, and the motherfucker thinks he can leave me out of the loop? No. No fucking way. So you, dear little sister, are going to do something for me.”
I can’t even question what that something is, because little black dots start to spot in front of my eyes. Any minute now I’m going to pass out.
“Penelope, you fucking better still be there…”
“I’m here,” I croak, blinking my eyes rapidly and willing myself not to faint. It would be so easy to allow the darkness to take over, to let the silence pull me under so I don’t have to listen to him anymore, but I breathe in deeply through my nose, forcing myself to do as he asks.