Havoc- Reapers MC Boxset

by Elizabeth Knox

  “Talking to Fist. You didn’t assume he was just here because of your fuck up, did you?” Well, kind of.

  “What business does he have with Fist?”

  “Hell, if I know. You can ask him yourself”

  I have a feeling I’ll be doing just that and asking quite a bit more.

  Chapter 17

  The art of knowing is knowing what to ignore. -Rumi

  Damon

  “It’s about damn time you explain yourself to me.” Shit. It’s the first thing he says out of his mouth as my father walks into church, slamming the door behind him. Fist is letting us use it for our lovely little family reunion, and it’s good he is. It’s bound to get loud and these walls look to be pretty thick.

  “I can say the same to you,” I grumble, my words coming out thick, laced with lead. I’m so much more than just pissed at this point. I’m fucking furious.

  “Excuse me? Remember who it is you are talking to, boy”

  “Save the respect bullshit for when you finally start showing me an ounce of it. I want to fucking know what the hell I’ve been doing in that club for the last few years. I want to fucking know why I’ve been trying to figure out who’s been selling the Demons drugs when it’s been Rafael this entire fucking time. Explain that to me!”

  He takes in a deep breath before my very eyes, furrowing his brows in a serious manner. “How did you discover this information?”

  Fuck.

  This bastard isn’t even shocked. “You knew about this,” I state, flatly.

  He nods once before walking around the table and taking a seat. I stand there, unable to sit down. My entire body is shaking with anger.

  “What the fuck was I doing there, really?” I demand to know the answer. He lied to me, not once, not twice, but multiple times, over the course of years.

  “My bidding, as is your job.” I can’t believe the audacity that he has, but I should know better. This man isn’t just my father, he’s Roman Raines, which means he will do whatever needs to be done to stay on the top of the food chain.

  “All of my investigating was for what exactly?”

  “To keep you preoccupied until I needed you.”

  “You’re an incorrigible bastard. You had me waste my time on a fool’s errand while I’m sure you were plotting your way to take Rage down. Is that it?”

  “It seems you’re finally catching up, good of you. Although, I’ll admit you’re a little slow.”

  I start to pace, the anger flowing through my body, with every beat of my heart the anger radiates more and more. I don’t think I have ever been this furious in my entire life. “You just needed a man inside. That’s all you needed, for me to do your bidding when the time came. Now I understand, you wanted me to believe I was doing something more than just being your little bitch boy.”

  “You said it, not me.” Motherfucker. “When Rage is finally dead, you will get the Nevada chapter. It will be yours to run, an extension of The Brotherhood. I’ll have Lyon and Ashton take two other chapters and disburse the rest of the clubhouses amongst my most trusted. It’s time that the Demons go back to the depths of hell where they belong”

  I stay silent, thinking about what he is telling me. The Demons will be going back to the depths of hell, and I will be getting my clubhouse, but what my father doesn’t know is that it won’t be for him.

  It won’t be for the Brotherhood.

  I will not give him anything else, not after everything he has done. I’ll take the club, but it won’t be for him. It will be for me, and for a Prez that I respect. When it’s all said and done, I may lose my father over this, but it may be worth it. I just can’t stand by and allow myself to be used as a pawn, to be played whenever he feels like it. He speaks of respect but doesn’t dare to show me any himself.

  There’s one man who has only shown me respect. He has treated me as if he would treat any other, not giving me special treatment because of who my father is, even though they are friends and have been for many years.

  Fist.

  I will take the clubhouse, but it will be for the Reapers. My father just doesn’t know it yet.

  “You’re coming with us, tonight. We need to go home, and since you’re no longer of use to me anymore…” He trails off, telling me how I need to go home to see my family. How my mother misses me. How I suddenly have all of these obligations. Fuck it and fuck him. “You couldn’t just leave the girl alone, could you? There was a bigger picture, a larger goal. You’re just lucky that you didn’t fuck it all up for me.”

  “I was asked to look over her, and I did. I don’t remember asking for your permission, or your opinions for that matter.”

  He slams his fist against the table, causing it to rattle loudly. “Do you think this is a joke, boy? This our livelihood, our right. After everything that has happened, we are taking back what is rightfully ours, and you almost jeopardized all of it. For what, pussy?”

  I can’t hold back anymore. I jump across the table so quick he didn’t see it coming, flying my fist straight into his jaw. I feel the crack of my knuckles against his cheekbone, of flesh on flesh. I hadn’t hit a man in ages. I saw it as pointless, to use fists was pointless. Guns were much more effective; however I don’t want to shoot my father. I just want him to know that he crossed a line, to see the error in his ways.

  “She is nothing but a distraction for you. I need you level headed and clear, do you understand that?” He roars at me while he shoves my body down onto the table. We’re both huge, our bodies packed with muscle. I didn’t realize how well we would match another, but I was dumb to think that with one punch to the face and he’d give up easily. My father grabs my throat, squeezing tightly. “Everything I do is for our family. Don’t you see that? It is for your mother. For you. For Amara, Rose, Ashton and Lyon. Every single thing I do is for you!”

  “N—” I try to speak, but his grip is too tight around my throat. He lets up, releasing me as he takes a step back. “No, it isn’t. You only do things for yourself, save me the family man bullshit speech.” I cough, glaring at him.

  “You need to come home and leave that fucking girl here to heal with her family.”

  “I’m not going with you. I’m staying with my girl.” I think for a moment about what to do, when there is only one thing that I can do. I have only been disrespected by this man, been challenged, been ridiculed and talked down to. This isn’t the man that I want to call a Prez, or the type of father I want.

  “I’m out.” I take my cut off and throw it at him before I walk out of the doors to church. I’m met with many stares, including Widow’s and Amara’s. Her mouth is gaping open, Widow is looking at me with an expression filled with concern. I’m sure they’re wondering what the fuck I just did.

  I just gave myself freedom, and I don’t regret it.

  I don’t stop as I walk out the doors of the club and jump on the back of the Harley that Kade gave me. I just need to ride, ride and forget about this fucked up day and all the fucked-up things that happened.

  I can only hope that Kat’s day has gone better.

  Chapter 18

  I still remember the days that I prayed for everything I have now. -Anonymous

  Kat

  I was supposed to be outside twenty minutes ago, but they were running late, and I decided it was best to wait inside my uncle’s house, which I guess I can refer to as my home at this point. I don’t think Damon and I are looking for other sleeping arrangements, especially now. It’s not like anyone bothers us here and we get a hell of a lot more privacy staying at my Uncle Fists opposed to grabbing a room in the clubhouse.

  I glance over to the clock on the oven and see one forty flashing. They’re ten minutes late. There’s no denying how restless I am about today. Over the years, there were many times where I was nervous, or maybe even fearful…but this is so much different.

  I walk into the small bathroom that sits just behind the kitchen and turn the water on, thankful that no one is in the hou
se and I’m currently alone. I hope that the sound of the water hitting the bottom of the stone, going down the drain will somehow offer me some solace, some shred of peace or maybe even soothe me, but it doesn’t. I stare into the mirror, faced with my reflection. I see a girl who has come so far yet falls into the same bad habits. I pull up my black tank top and run my finger over the small scars that mark my stomach. I’ve put every single one of them here, each of them are my own way of dealing with difficult situation, and today is difficult to say the least.

  I open the cabinet, searching for what I hope will be there. This is a bathroom after all. There has to be one around. If I couldn’t find something in here, I’d have no shame in going to the kitchen and grabbing a knife. Just as I’m about to shut the door, I see a razor, the blade glistens in the light calling out to me. Or maybe that’s just my fucked-up mind telling me that putting the blade to my skin will make me feel better.

  I know I’m fucked up. Hell, maybe I’m even worse than fucked up, whatever that is anyway. All I can say is how I feel like when the blade digs into my skin and the blood slowly starts to spill out…I feel a release. There are days where I feel numb, and there are worse days where I feel like I am sinking into the ground, being swallowed up by everything and anything around me. I don’t really know what that is, if it’s depression, anxiety, or bi-polar disorder.

  I’ve never had the luxury of going to a psychiatrist, but I manage on my own, as I’ve had to do for years. Cutting is one way I can manage my emotional pain, so I do. I pick up the blade and grab the alcohol I see sitting next to it, opening the bottle I pour it over the blade and over my skin where I intend to cut. I’ve been doing this long enough to know what is safe and what isn’t. Never will I be careless.

  I breathe in slowly as the cold blade comes into contact with my skin, slowly beginning to drag it to where its tearing my skin apart. I look down and watch the crimson blood slowly spill down my stomach. I stop myself at one inch. I don’t ever cut over an inch. It’s a hidden rule that I have for myself. My golden rule of sorts.

  The pain of the cut beats through my stomach. I can feel the pulse that happens after you cut yourself, you know, right after a deep cut how you can almost feel the beat of your heart in the location of the cut. I love this feeling, it makes me feel content, happy even.

  I hear the storm door swing open and drop the razorblade in the trash can next to the sink, placing the alcohol back into the cabinet and shut the door. I was my hands quickly and fix my shirt, so it covers my wound, then open the door and walk out of the bathroom.

  “You ready?” I give a half smile to my Daddy in response to his question.

  He had me walk out to the front of my uncle’s house before I hopped on the back of his bike and we rode down the interstate a few miles, turned onto an old dirt road and I instantly recognized where we were going. There was a tiny creek not too far from the clubhouse, it was maybe fifteen minutes away tops. We pull down onto gravel and I smile, breathing in deeply. When I was a little girl I used to demand that he’d bring me here. Well, not him specifically. Any of my fathers, and they always obliged. I had them wrapped around my pretty little finger.

  He turns the bike off, kicking up the stand and I dismount first, taking in my surroundings. It’s funny how so much changes over the years and yet nature does but doesn’t. Nature somehow remains the same. I hear bouts of laughter and see two young girls come running up the hill.

  “Daddy, we heard your bike!” The smaller one spits out, her eyes on him while the girl standing next to her can’t keep her eyes off of me.

  “You must be Kat,” she mutters softly, looking to the smaller girl and then back to me. “The resemblance is uncanny.” The girl maybe looks to be ten and speaks like she’s in her forties. I can already tell she’s smart.

  “This is Jordyn,” My Daddy points to the smart girl, and then to the shorter one, “and this is Nova.” Nova runs up and jumps into his arms on cue, and I can’t help but smile. I did the same thing when I was around her age.

  I follow the three of them as they walk down to the creek that I spent so much time at as a child. As we approach I see my Mom, Dad and Pop. It’s set up like a small picnic, baskets lay around a flannel blanket that sits on the ground and I can see their beaming smiles as we quickly approach.

  “I think Daddy forgot the mayo!” Nova shouts in their direction, and the group of them bust out into laughter.

  “Fuck, I did forget that,” He says lowly.

  I don’t know how much time has passed as I sit down and eat with my family, discovering the smallest things about the two little girls who I share blood with. We all look similar in our own unique ways, and it is interesting to not be an only child anymore, especially after all of this time. Nova and Jordyn run off with my Dads and I’m left alone with my Mom. This is the first time that we’ve been left alone together since I’ve been back.

  Her eyes rake up and down my body, and she sees the scars. I watch as she stares at them, not able to look away. “He told me that Rage didn’t do that to you.”

  “No, he didn’t” I confirm, looking at the scars that mark my inner arms. It’s funny, even my sisters didn’t look. Kids could care less about a person’s physical appearance being different than their own.

  “I…I’m sorry for what you went through. I know what that was like and I am just…if I could have traded places with you I would have in a heartbeat, Kathryn.” I blink a few times at what she’s just said to me. Maybe I should think it’s sweet that she’s said this, but I don’t. I can’t say a thing because I’m flabbergasted on how she could think her experience and mine were anything alike. I can guarantee that they weren’t. There is no doubt in my mind about that.

  “I just wish that I could have taken that pain from you. I remember all of the things that….” She goes on and on, telling me in full detail what she experienced. I’m furious, because today isn’t some PTSD therapy session for my Mom, or for me. It’s about being introduced to my two lovely sisters and having family bonding time. Why on earth would I want my past dug up? Why would I want to relive my own haunting memories by hearing about her experiences? I don’t. Plain and simple. I don’t want to hear a damn thing. I want to bury the awful parts of my past in the ground and never have them see the light of day ever again. That is what I want.

  I sit here, and I listen over and over at every torturous thing my mother went through. With every word, I’m reliving my own past and I’m praying for this day to end.

  This is not how I imagined it.

  ***

  This day has exhausted me in ways that I never thought possible, emotions ran high and thoughts plagued my mind no matter how hard I tried for them not to. The only thing I want to do now is snuggle in bed with Damon. I make my way up the stairwell of my Uncles house, and don’t even bother to greet anyone who sits in his living room. I think I saw Ashley with Noelle, but I was just too exhausted to speak to anyone else.

  I’m drained, it’s as plain and simple as that.

  Making my way down the stairs, I bee-line straight for my bedroom. Once I’m inside, I slip out of my clothes and lift up the comforter, sliding in under the warmth, inching closer to Damon.

  “Mmmm,” he grumbles, sounding sleepy as ever.

  “I missed you today,” I mumble, snuggling my head into his chest. Today wasn’t easy in the slightest, it was hard, and I still have a million emotions flying around in my head that I don’t quite understand. My hope is that I’ll get some rest and, in the morning, I won’t be feeling the same way as I am right now – confused.

  “I missed you too, baby. You have no idea.” Damon pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around me he presses his lips to my forehead, speaking against my skin. “How’d your day go, good?”

  “It went. I’m just exhausted after everything. How was your day?” I ask, hoping that I won’t have to talk to him about how I’m feeling right now.

  “It was a day. I threw my Brotherho
od cut at my father and told him to go fuck himself, basically.”

  “What?” I shoot up from the bed, rising to my knees. The light from our bathroom is on, giving the room a little illumination so I can make out his features.

  “Damn, Kat. You don’t have to be so loud.” He reaches his arm back out to me, urging me to come back next to him and I do. “There’s a lot of shit with my father that you don’t know. You will soon, and I have a feeling you’ll understand why he and I don’t get along. Doesn’t look like he’ll be leaving anytime soon, so basically he’ll be a giant pain in my ass.”

  “Why’d you…do what you did?” I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me.

  “Because, baby, I’ve made a lot of sacrifices for my family – for him. He chooses not to see what I’ve done for him, and instead asked me to make another sacrifice, one that I wasn’t too keen on making. He wanted me to leave you, to go back home and do whatever else he had planned up his sleeve. That’s why I threw my cut at him, not because of the wild goose chase he had me on, but because of you. He wants me to give you up and I refuse to do that. I won’t do it, not when you’re finally where you belong – with me.”

  He pulls me closer, bringing his lips gently to mine, caressing my lips with his own. Moments like this, they make me want to tell him something that I know I’m not ready for. Maybe one day I will be. Today just isn’t that day.

  Chapter 19

  Flowers grow back, even after they’re stepped on. So, will I. -Anonymous

  Kat

  I wake up early, before the sun even starts to shine. I’m not really sure why; I guess the past few nights have left me restless. It’s been oddly quiet, too quiet if you ask me. I think that people can always sense when trouble is starting to brew, and the heeby- jeebies I’m getting in the pit of my stomach are telling me just that. Something massive is going to happen, and it’s gonna happen soon.