by Bea Paige
“Thank you.” I blow out a heavy breath, tears pricking my eyes.
“But, you’re still going to dump the Breakers because your brother won’t be any good to me if he’s obsessing over you and your friendship with them.” He rolls his eyes at the word, as though such a thing as friendship is insignificant. I suppose for a man like him, it is. “You’ll have no contact with them for this moment on.”
My heart fucking cracks, bleeding as heavily as the dead man on the floor, but I nod my head anyway. “Okay,” I whisper, dropping my head and gritting my teeth against the flow of tears that threaten.
“But you’re going to have to do something else for me too,” Jeb says, inching closer. He lifts my chin with his finger, forcing me to look at him. “You’re going to have to be mine.”
“Yours?” I choke, shock filtering into my features.
“Yes, mine. Don’t worry, Penelope, I don’t want to fuck you, but one day I’m going to call in this debt and you’re going to have to do what I ask. No fucking questions.”
“What do I need to do?”
“Tonight you’re going to go out there and walk away from the Breakers. Then you’ll work for me here at Rocks and when the time comes, I’ll call in the debt. If you fail to do what I ask, then your life and that of your sister is forfeit. Understand?”
“Yeah, I understand.”
By the time I make my way back into the main portion of the club with Jeb, it’s nearing closing time, even though the club is still pumping. I walk alongside Jeb in a daze, feeling numb. I’ve gone through a gamut of emotions this evening: joy, fear, hate, desperation, resignation.
Now I feel nothing.
Self-preservation has kicked in and I’ve buried every thought, every memory of the last three years with the Breakers just so I can survive the night and do what I must.
We walk through the crowd, stopping periodically so that Jeb can greet members of his crew and business acquaintances. Every single one of them stare at me now with interest, noting how Jeb guides me through the crowd with his hand on my lower back. Finally we reach the booth where the Breakers are sitting. Xeno notices me first, standing abruptly but the second his gaze meets Jeb, he stops dead in his tracks. I drop my gaze, not able to look at the fire burning in Xeno’s eyes.
“Good evening, boys. I understand congratulations are in order?”
“Yeah, we won the battle,” Zayn says carefully. I can hear the questions in his voice and when I glance up at him, his face is a mixture of relief and confusion. He keeps looking between Jeb and me. Next to him York is watching my face carefully, his face paling when his gaze meets mine. Dax is glaring at Jeb, his hands curled into fists on the table.
“Five grand is a nice tidy sum. I was just saying as much to Penelope here. We’ve had a good chat, haven’t we, pretty?”
I nod my head, forcing my face into a mask. “Yeah.”
“Well, I’m gonna grab us all a drink to celebrate. I’ll leave you to tell them the good news,” Jeb says, and I can see the delight in his eyes as he walks away knowing that I’m about to detonate a bomb on our relationship.
“What the actual fuck, Tiny?!” Xeno growls. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere and you’ve been with Jeb?”
“I bumped into him. He wanted to buy me a drink and I couldn’t say no to the leader of the Skins. You of all people should know that,” I fire back, trying to hint at the predicament I’m in without snitching. He just frowns, leaving me hanging.
“Sit down, Kid, before you fall down,” Dax remarks after a moment, his tumultuous gaze resting on my face. He knows something’s up and as much as I want to tell them all what’s happened, I can’t. I can’t.
“Too much to drink, that’s all,” I say, plastering a smile on my face as I slide into the booth next to Zayn, careful to keep my distance.
“What’s the good news you need to tell us about, Titch?” York’s ask, his voice cautious.
“Jeb has given me a job here at the club,” I respond immediately, plastering a fake smile on my face and hoping he can’t read the sheer fucking terror I’m feeling beneath the mask I wear. I’m positive I have droplets of that man’s blood covering my dark jeans.
“You don’t seem to be happy about it.” Xeno points out, narrowing his eyes at me.
“I am happy about it. I can earn some money working behind the bar for a few hours on a weekend night and then dance the rest of the time. It’s a no brainer.” I fall silent, stuffing my hands beneath my thighs so they can’t see them trembling.
Silence descends and I worry my lip not knowing how to bring up the devastating news that we can no longer be friends. Ever. Any minute now, Jeb will return, and he’ll have expected me to have done the deed. I glance over at the bar, noticing that Jeb is currently talking to one of his crew. Drawing in a shaky breath I return my attention to the Breakers.
“There’s something I need to say,” I begin, my voice trembling so much that I have to cough to keep it steady.
“Wait! Before you say a word, we wanted to give you this,” Zayn says quickly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small black jewellery box, placing it on the table. “Happy Birthday, Pen. This is from all of us.” There’s a smile in his voice that matches the happiness in his eyes. My heart fucking plummets. The evening had started so well, the perfect fucking birthday, winning the battle with the boys I love. Now, the only thing I know for certain is that Lena will remain safe so long as I do what Jeb and David asked.
“What’s this?” I whisper, staring at the box, knowing that whatever lies inside is going to break my heart for good.
“Open it, Titch,” York says gently, leaning over the table and pushing it towards me.
With trembling hands, I reach for the box and flip open the lid. Inside is a necklace, the thin gold change holding onto the word Breakers. My eyes immediately swim with tears, but I blink them back. If I cry, if I give in, I might just confess everything that’s transpired tonight, and my sister will die for it.
“Well, ain’t that pretty,” Jeb says, making me jump. I snap the lid closed on the jewellery box and grasp it in my hand as he places a tray of drinks on the table.
“So, have you told them the good news?” Jeb asks, a wicked smile on his face.
“Yeah, Pen said you offered her a job at Rocks,” Xeno comments, his face unreadable.
“That’s right.” Jeb turns to look at me and it’s clear from the sheer joy on his face that he knows I haven’t dumped them yet. He hands a drink to each of us, then takes a swig of his. “So what did I interrupt?”
“We were wishing Pen a happy birthday,” Zayn says cautiously.
“It’s your birthday?!” Jeb exclaims, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me against his side, planting a kiss on my head. I hear Dax growl, and out of the corner of my eye see York lay his hand on Dax’s arm. Xeno’s nostrils flare and Zayn looks utterly lost.
“Why didn’t you say so?”
Because my sicko brother was confessing his deepest desires and threatening my sister’s life, and you were busy shooting the brains out of one of your employees.
“It didn’t seem all that important at the time,” I whisper, cringing as his fingers start stroking up and down my arm.
“Tiny?” Xeno asks, looking at me with confusion.
I want to tell him what’s happened. I want to tell them all, but everything’s stacked against us. David won’t just kill me and my sister, he’ll kill them too if I defy him. Jeb’s no different. I tell the Breakers about his secret then we’re all dead. That man’s lifeless body is proof enough that Jeb has no qualms ending someone’s life without any thought or care. He didn’t even flinch.
“What, Xeno?” Jeb snaps as the tension rises. He’s getting bored and I’m running out of time.
“I have a question for Pen, do you mind…?” he asks Jeb, maintaining the level of respect Jeb has come to expect from his crew members.
“Whatever…” Jeb wav
es his hand and leans back in his seat. He’s fucking loving this, and I hate him. I hate him as much as I hate my brother for putting me in this position.
“Tiny, you remember what I asked you to do?” he says, staring at me intently, just like the others are doing.
“Yes,” I whisper, still clutching the necklace in my hand. My heart thunders painfully. I know where this is going and it’s killing me. Right now, part of me wishes that Jeb had shot me because this, this is too fucking hard.
“It was a mistake. You don’t have to do that anymore. You can have what you want, Tiny.”
There’s so much hope in his eyes, in all their eyes and I can’t help it, my lip starts to wobble, my eyes tearing up. I think about our friendship, about my love for them all. I think about my innocent little sister oblivious to the threat hanging over her head. I think about my brother and his sick, twisted heart. I think about the man with his brains blown out in a room not far from where we’re sitting now, and I think about Jeb’s threat. Knowing I have no other choice, I take a deep breath and harden my heart so I can break theirs. It’s too late.
“No, we can’t. I’ve made my choice,” I say, placing the jewellery box back on the table and sliding it away from me.
“And what have you chosen, Titch?” York asks me, his voice even, steady, careful.
I press my eyes shut, forcing back the tears. “None of you. We’re over.”
“What?!” Zayn snaps, shock making his voice sharp, brittle, broken.
“You don’t mean that, Kid,” Dax adds. There’s a crack in his voice that cuts right into my heart.
“Titch…” York begins, but I refuse to look at him.
“It’s over. I’m done with you all.” I swallow, hardening my features and forcing down every last ounce of emotion deep inside. “This was never going to work. At least now you get to screw as many women as you like without fear of me getting in the way.” Bitterness seeps into my words, an ugly and cruel mistress.
“No!” Xeno’s fist crashes against the table, making me jump. “What are you doing?”
“I’m moving on. Isn’t this what you wanted?” I accuse, forcing myself to forget the fact that there’s a necklace sitting on the table that tells me otherwise.
Xeno presses his mouth into a hard line, shock rendering him speechless.
“Titch, what are you saying?” York shakes his head as though trying to clear his thoughts and get a hold of the situation, of me.
Biting on my tongue, I force myself to look at him and pour all of my hate for my brother and David into this one hard stare. He needs to believe me. They all do. “I don’t love any of you. I don’t think I ever really did. Don’t embarrass yourselves by chasing after me because I’m done. Understand? We. Are. Over.”
All four of them flinch, but I make sure to keep my emotions locked down. I don’t buckle under the weight of their obvious hurt, their shock. I refuse to acknowledge the angry tear glinting in Dax’s eye or the disappointment in York and Zayn’s stare, and I certainly don’t entertain the deep well of pain that emits from Xeno’s gaze.
“You heard her. Penelope has made her choice, haven’t you, pretty girl,” Jeb purrs, brushing his lips against the top of my head, before wrapping his arm around my shoulder and guiding me out of the booth. As we walk away, it feels as though every single person in the club is staring at us both. I bet they’re thinking the same thing as my Breakers. I’m Jeb’s now.
With a broken heart and a heavy soul I leave my Breakers behind.
I don’t look back at them, and they don’t follow.
33
Present Day
Dax wins the fight. His opponent didn’t stand a chance and is currently sprawled out on the floor with a barely recognisable face. Two men are checking him over as Dax is declared the winner and the room erupts. Some are cheering and others are clearly unhappy, slamming their fists on the table, probably losing thousands of pounds backing the wrong fighter.
“Never fucking loses,” Jeb remarks, knocking back the remains of his drink with a sly smile.
It was a brutal fight, violent but swift.
Dax didn’t hold back. He went in with aggression and speed and didn’t stop until his opponent hit the deck ten minutes later. There’s blood everywhere, darkening the already stained canvas and gathering around the guy’s head as blood oozes from his mouth and nose. Dax got off lightly with a swelling cheekbone and a split eyebrow that’s dripping blood, but is nowhere near as injured as the fighter out cold on the floor. The scene makes my stomach roil. The crowd loved it. I fucking hated every second. It might have been a quick fight, but it lasted an eternity for me.
Fighting to survive, to protect someone you care about is one thing. Fighting to inflict pain, to maim or kill, for dirty money, is something altogether different. I can’t correlate the man I see before me in the cage to the boy I bonded with as kids. Yes, he always had a violent streak when pushed too far, but that was born out of necessity, never desire. Underneath all of the provoked aggression was just a kid desperate for a home that provided safety, and parents who loved him. Right now, that boy is nowhere to be found, because the man I see before me enjoyed every second of this fight. Like a caged animal, Dax paces back and forth, shaking out his arms, rolling his head on his shoulders and fucking grinning at the audience with blood-stained teeth.
Every punch he threw reminded me of the ones I endured at the hands of my brother. The sound of Dax’s knuckles splitting his opponents skin, and the crack of bones breaking beneath the force of his wrath stirring up memories that I’ve tried so fucking hard to bury. I might not be a stranger to getting into scrapes over the years, I stuck up for myself on the street when I needed to, and fought for the ones I loved, but I never, ever enjoyed it.
“See, fucking brutal,” Jeb whispers against my ear. I stiffen, revolted by the sheer joy in his voice and the salacious way his words caress my skin.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I suddenly say, wanting to remove my mask, to breathe deeply and settle my nerves as anxiety and memories from that night three years ago threaten to drown me. The blood on the canvas, the glowing red of the skulls on their masks, the heady violence in the air proves too fucking much. My skin crawls, my teeth grind, and my fingers curl into fists as my nails bury into the skin of my palm, seeking pain to numb the fear. If I don’t find a moment to control the crawling fingers of trauma, I’ll fucking crumble. I refuse to allow myself to do that. Not here, not now.
Zayn stands, Jeb getting up with him. Xeno and York watching us both.
“I’ll take her, Sir,” Jeb says with amusement.
Zayn nods once, then sits back down. I can feel them watching us as Jeb leads me to a darkened corner of the warehouse. Pushing through a door in front of me, Jeb steps into a bathroom that is surprisingly well decorated for a warehouse in the middle of nowhere.
I rip off my face mask and breathe in deeply, sucking in a lungful of air. “What the hell is going on?” I ask Jeb, forgetting for a moment that he is in fact the leader of the Skins and not Zayn who’s just acting like it.
“I thought that would be obvious,” he chuckles, leaning against the vanity.
“I don’t mean the fight…” I grind out.
“You need to loosen up, pretty girl. Violence is in our blood,” he remarks, removing his mask and gloves and avoiding my question as he pulls out a small cellophane bag from his pocket that’s filled with white powder. Jeb dips his little finger into the baggy and rubs the powder along his gums. “This is fucking good shit. Newest delivery of cocaine from your dear brother, David. How is he by the way?”
“Much the same,” I say vaguely, not willing to get into a conversation about my brother. Not when I have so many questions. Nothing tonight is making any sense. Why is Zayn pretending to be Jeb when everyone’s identity is hidden anyway? Grim appears to have a handle on the situation. There won’t be any blood spilt tonight other than in the cage. Then again, what the fuck do I k
now? Anything could happen.
“You managed to calm your brother down?” Jeb asks me, drawing me out of my head.
“Yes.”
“Good.” Stepping close to me, Jeb pushes back a strand of sweaty hair away from my forehead. “You know I appreciate you playing along tonight…”
“Playing along?” I ask, not liking the look of glee in his eyes.
“Zayn is doing a fucking excellent job as my doppelganger, don’t you think?”
“Why though? I don’t understand. Everyone’s identity is hidden.”
“You don’t need to understand, pretty girl. You just need to put that mask back on and follow me,” he says, pulling his own mask back on, the red neon flickering on the moment he pulls it over his head.
When we head back into the warehouse, Dax is no longer in the cage. Instead there are five topless women dancing provocatively to the music that’s now playing out over the speakers. It’s a low, sultry beat with a sensual base that vibrates up through the floor. The atmosphere has changed dramatically. It’s like all that violence has bled into a different kind of passion. Debauchery unravels around us as a dense kind of heat envelopes the space. In the corners of the warehouse fires are lit in oil barrels, and from the ceiling women dressed in nothing more than lingerie are hanging from lengths of black silk, performing acrobatics that would impress me if there weren’t people fucking at every table.
Everywhere I look there are women spread out across the surfaces, their masks askew, their short dresses lifted up to reveal peachy arses and glistening cunts. Some of the gangsters are feasting on their women, their tongues deep inside of them, and some are fucking their women from different angles whilst others look on, their hands firmly gripped around their cocks, jacking off. One of the female gangsters has a man on his knees in front of her, whilst he eats her out.
“It’s a fucking orgy,” I blurt out, cold dread covering my skin.
“No, just a damn good party,” Jeb laughs, his lascivious voice making my skin crawl.