by Bella J
“Where would the fun be in that?” The smirk on his face begged to be wiped off with my fist. Onyx cleaned his hands with a white piece of cloth, a cigarette hanging from his lips. “You plan on avoiding me the whole time we’re here?”
“Maybe.” No use in denying it.
Onyx swept his hand through his dirty-blond hair. “Avoiding problems won’t solve it.”
“Is that what you are? A problem?”
“I dunno. Am I?”
I slipped my hands into my jean pockets, keeping a safe distance from my brother. There were too many mixed feelings raging inside me when it came to him. And a part of me feared he might smell like her since he’d been spending so much time in her room. If I had to catch her sweet scent of vanilla on him, I’d peel his fucking skin off.
Leaning back against the wall, I avoided eye contact with Onyx. “How is she?”
Onyx blew out a cloud of smoke. “If you really want to know, go find out for yourself.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Onyx.”
“Don’t use me to be your eyes and ears when it comes to her. You want to find out how she’s doing, go see her. Don’t fucking ask me.” He tossed his cigarette onto the dirt before turning his back on me and continuing to clean his bike.
I exhaled, bending my knee and placing my boot against the wall.
“So, where did you and Ink disappear to last night?” Onyx didn’t turn to face me as he spoke.
I plucked out a cigarette and placed it between in my lips. “Just went for a cruise.”
“Such bullshit.”
“What?”
“You two were gone for hours, and not even Dutch knew where you were.”
“Dutch doesn’t have to know my every move.”
“Yeah, he kinda does.” Onyx turned in my direction, eyes pinned on me with a scrutinizing glare. “Where were you, Granite?”
I lit the cigarette, blowing out some smoke. “Got nothing to do with you, little brother.”
“There was blood on Ink’s boots this morning. Have any idea how it got there?”
My mind reeled while trying to think of something to say. Goddammit. I told Ink to be careful.
I shrugged and let my gaze drift to the horizon before finally looking back at him. “I’m not your fucking eyes and ears when it comes to Ink.” I flicked my cigarette and straightened. “Want to find out what’s up with him, ask him yourself.”
Onyx snorted and continued to clean his motorcycle, seemingly unfazed by my sarcasm. I grabbed my phone and stomped back into the house.
Ink took his sweet time answering, and I was about to drop the call when his voice came through the receiver.
“Ink, where are you?”
“Where do you think?”
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Listen, Onyx is like a fucking bloodhound. We need to lay low for a while.”
“What do you mean?”
“He said the saw blood on your boot this morning. And he has that fucking look in his eyes when he’s trying to get to the bottom of something. We need to cool down a little.”
“No fucking way, man. I’m going out again tonight.”
See, I knew Ink wouldn’t play along. The man was consumed with an unhealthy amount of rage. It had been days since he slept. He was living off whiskey, nicotine, and air. But who could blame him? He was a walking hard-on, always trying to get into Neon’s pants because she was the one girl who didn’t fall for his dirty mouth and boyish good looks. Ink had that charisma and confidence women seemed to fall for hook, line, and sinker. I was pretty sure if I had a pussy, I’d probably fall for his dirty mouth. But not Neon, and that drove the guy insane not being able to crack through her hard casing of attitude. And even though he always joked about never stopping until she spread her legs for him, I knew deep down the guy cared for her—more than he ever wanted to admit.
Now, he was all types of fucked up over her.
“Listen, Ink. Let’s just be cool for a few days. Besides, you need to get some sleep.”
“Granite, you’re my bro, man. But I’m going out tonight, with or without you.” And then he hung up.
I cursed under my breath. It was probably better for us—for him to continue doing what we’d been doing. That fury he carried was like a pressure cooker put on high, and he needed to get rid of some steam. At least what we were doing was better than him shooting it up and getting high. When Ink joined the Kings a few years back, the guy was having a hard time getting off the needle. That was one thing our club didn’t tolerate, the use of hardcore drugs. Weed? Sure. Selling weed was great for our cashflow. But heroin? No way. It took us months to help get the guy clean. My dad refused to give up on him.
Goddammit. If Ink had to fall off the wagon because of what happened to Neon—because of what I let happen to Neon—that would be the final nail in my fucking coffin. I already felt like a dead man walking, robbing the world of air I didn’t deserve. The only thing that kept me from falling down that metaphorical black hole of nothing was my need for revenge. I would avenge what happened to Neon. I would demand payback for what happened to Alyx. Her mind was fucked because of what I let happen.
Ruined.
Corrupted.
Broken.
Just like me.
Chapter Three
Alyx
There were no more tears left in me to cry. Instead, I just sat there in the corner drawing imaginary circles on the concrete floor with my fingertip. My nails had grown, and they looked terrible. No shape, no pretty round contour. Filing the corners of my nails, keeping them well-manicured was not important. Not anymore. I was no longer that perfect, pretty ballerina girl.
Ballerina girl.
God, I hated those words. I hated that he called me that. I hated that I liked it when he called me that. I hated him.
Around and around, my finger drew circles over the exact same spot. My thoughts were scattered, almost like static, memories zapping through my mind one second at a time. I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t think straight. But it was better that way. If my mind was clear, I’d probably only think of her, her face, her pain, the way Granite easily disregarded her life like it meant nothing.
Did my life mean nothing to him? If it was so easy for him to let her go, would he throw me to the vultures just as easily once he grew tired of me? Sure, he made it clear he was never letting me go, and for a single space in time he had me believing that. He had me believing he might have cared for me, that his obsession with me wasn’t just toxic, but a part of it might be genuine. Unfortunately, he proved me wrong not long after I opened my legs for him, welcoming him into my body like he was the one.
God. My mom was right. It wasn’t in me to make the right decisions. That was why I needed someone like her to make the choices for me. I was weak. Too naïve. And if I had to stand on my own two feet, living my own life, I’d fuck up left, right, and center.
There was a slight knock on the door before Onyx entered. I gave a quick glance his way then turned my attention back to the circles I was drawing. “I didn’t eat the food you brought me, if that’s why you’re here.”
I heard the door slam shut, the heavy footsteps of his leather boots. He crouched in front of me. “How long are you going to keep this up?”
I shrugged, not giving him a straight answer.
“I’m going to ask you this one more time, Alyx. Please eat.”
I lifted my head and met his eyes. “Isn’t the whole point of eating to give your body what it needs to function? To stay alive?”
“What’s your point?”
My hair fell across my shoulder as I leaned my head to the side. “I have no reason to have a body that functions right at this point.” I bit my lower lip. “And since your brother made it clear he had no intention of ever letting me go, I don’t see a reason for me to stay alive either.”
Onyx pulled his hand through his dirty blond hair as he let out an exasperated breath. “So, what? This is you p
unishing him? Are you trying to get back at him?”
“No. Punishing him won’t bring her back.”
“And neither would starving yourself.”
“I’m not starving myself to punish him, Onyx. I’m doing it to punish myself.”
“Why?”
I crossed my legs and placed my hands on my lap while focusing on him. “If your brother wasn’t so hellbent on keeping me, Neon would be alive right now.”
“That’s bullshit.” He shook his head, his expression teetering on the edge of anger.
“Is it?”
“Yeah, it is.”
I smiled. “I don’t think so. The Kings might have been at war with the Pythons for years, but I’m the nuclear fucking weapon that made Neon end up as nothing but collateral.”
Onyx shot up, towering over me. “You need to stop.”
“Why?” I challenged him. “Why do I need to stop? Besides, you’re the ones who kidnapped me in the first place. It’s not like you were trying to do me a fucking favor, so why the hell do you care whether I starve myself?”
“It was never our intention to hurt you.” Onyx started pacing. “Everything that happened, and with Neon…that shit wasn’t part of the plan.”
This time I got up from the floor, straightening. “What was the plan, Onyx? Huh? To me, it seems like the plan you had in mind was something completely different than the plan Granite was trying to execute.”
Onyx pulled at his hair, a loud growl rolling over his lips. “Jesus Christ! I know, okay? I fucking know.”
“What? What do you know?”
He launched at me, and my back hit the wall while his face came within inches of mine. Nostrils flaring, sky-blue eyes dark and menacing. It reminded me of him—of his older brother, a wave of nostalgia crashing over me.
With his palm flat against the wall above my shoulder, he leaned closer. “I know that you being here was never solely because of the Pythons. I know that even though my brother wanted revenge for our father’s death, this plan he came up with to use you wasn’t just for the club’s gain,” his gaze cut down to my lips, then back up, “but for his own personal reasons as well. No one knows my brother the way I do. And I knew right from the start that all this was less about the Pythons and more about you.”
Silence ensued while his blue-eyed stare seemed to look straight through me. The measure of intensity that radiated from him was off the charts, and for the first time since all this started, Onyx intimidated me almost as much as his brother.
He cocked his head. “And here’s the thing, Alyx,” his tongue darted out, wetting his lips, “I don’t blame him. I’d do the exact same thing if I were him. But I’m not him. And the fact of the matter is, you belong to him. I know it. He knows it…you know it.”
My heart hammered against my ribs, and it felt like the air wasn’t reaching my lungs as I stared at Onyx.
The corner of his lips curled up slightly. “You know, I’ve never been this tempted to break a club bylaw.”
“What bylaw is that?” My voice was soft.
He moved forward, his lips lightly brushing against my earlobe. “Never touch another member’s woman. Ever.”
I swallowed hard. “I’m no one’s woman.”
A soft laugh rushed over his lips. “Yes, you are. And you always will be.”
He pushed himself off the wall and a little farther away from me, yet his gaze remained fixed on mine while he held up his hands and stepped back. “Eat. Don’t eat. I’m out.” Then he left, and I only got a quick glance of the skull framed with the American flag on the back of his cut. The door shut behind him, but I didn’t hear the lock.
I slid down the wall until my ass hit the floor, legs pushed up against my chest. No matter how much I wished it wasn’t true, it was. Onyx was right. Granite owned me. There was nothing I could do to change that. The second he possessed my body, I surrendered. I gave him the permission he needed to claim me. There was no going back from that. And if I was completely honest with myself, I would admit that deep down I didn’t want to be anyone’s woman but his.
But the reality was, I would never be able to be with him, to endure his touch, his kiss, the comfort of his body without thinking of her, without being reminded of the selfish choice he made all because he couldn’t let me go. A part of me had wished I could, but I’d never be able to look him in the eye without seeing her face while she was slowly being tortured to death. As long as the image of her pain was in my head haunting me, there was no way I could be with him without being sliced wide open with guilt and resentment.
Because of the decision he made, I would never be his again. Not willingly.
Never.
Chapter Four
Granite
A river of crimson flowed across the floor, rounding my boot. It was beautiful, soothing, calming. Knowing it was Python blood freed me of my guilt for a few moments. I chose to savor those moments because soon the peace would be gone, replaced by the suffocating remorse.
The poor fuck screamed as Ink pressed the scorching hot blade against his cheek. I could hear the sizzle as his flesh seared and melted. When Ink pulled his knife away, the charred skin bubbled with blood and ooze.
We’d been pulling this man apart for the last two hours. It was easy to lure him here with a whore spitting promises of sucking his dick. But rather than finding pleasure, he strolled right into a fuck-load of pain waiting for him in an abandoned building far away from where anyone could hear him scream. Now he was hanging from the ceiling, wrists tied above his head with chains holding him in place.
Ink took the blowtorch and heated the knife again. Judging by the malice painted across his skin, Ink was far from done.
“Fuck it.” Ink tossed the knife aside and rounded to stand behind the Python, who had been weeping. With every tear that crossed his burned flesh, he screamed even harder. Nothing like salt on open wounds.
“Granite, you got another knife?”
I plucked one out of the side of my boot and handed it to him.
“What…please…” the SOB begged, but his voice was barely audible, exhausted as fuck.
I moved to stand behind Ink, wanting to watch what his evil mind was going to make him do now. It was entertaining as hell, watching his demons give him the strength to torture the shit out of this man. And by shit…I meant shit. He had pissed himself twice, and judging by the putrid smell that clung to the air in the small, confined space we were in, I’d say he shit himself as well.
Ink took my knife and tore through the guy’s shirt. The Python cried out, a streak of blood running down his spine. Ink didn’t exactly care whether he sliced the fucker’s skin while he tore through the fabric.
Ink lit the blowtorch, glanced over his shoulder, and winked at me. “Time to get extreme. I’d close my ears if I were you.”
“Nah. Make him scream me a melody.”
Ink laughed. “Got it, boss man.”
The Python tried to look over his shoulder. “Please…what are you—” And then he screamed. No, he fucking wailed and shrieked, the sound reaching a pitch it hadn’t before.
Ink moved the blowtorch—slowly, torturously—the flame burning the skin of the guy’s back.
On and on and on the screams went, an unending sonnet of pain and suffering. It was fucking beautiful. Mix those tormented sounds with the horrid stench of burning flesh, and we had ourselves a fucking party.
Ink laughed manically, consumed by rage and a hunger for torture.
Abruptly, the screams stopped, the Python’s head lolling to the front.
Ink looked at me. “Did the fucker pass out? Tell me the fucker didn’t pass out.”
“Yup. He passed out. Or he’s dead.”
“Seriously? This was just starting to get fun.” Ink threw the blowtorch down on the ground, annoyed that our little Python voodoo doll decided to check out.
I walked around, stared at the fucker’s mutilated face, one ear cleanly cut off, an eye shut and still
bleeding from my thumb I had forced into his eye socket earlier. I placed a finger to his neck, not caring that he was covered in blood. My hands were already soaked with it.
“Yup. He’s dead.”
“Oh, come on!” Ink threw my knife across the room and against the wall. “I still have a list of shit I want to do to this motherfucker.”
Stepping back around, I stopped beside him and stared at the corpse’s back. “Nice,” I commented, admiring Ink’s handiwork—a giant, distorted K burned into the flesh. A cruel way of engraving our mark on the fucker’s flesh.
“Symbolic, right?” Ink grinned. “From now on, every one of these fuckers will have this burned into their flesh for what they did to her.”
“Yeah, I feel ya.” I leaned back against the wall and lit a cigarette, taking the time to soak it all in. Soon, the adrenaline would subside, and guilt would once again take its place, so I appreciated every goddamn second of relief this bloody scene brought me.
I looked over to where Ink was standing. His face was covered in blood, his eyes wide and unsatisfied. It was safe to assume he wasn’t experiencing these moments of calm. Quiet. The demon raging in him was too strong to be sated by blood and death. It wanted more. It wanted annihilation, war, total chaos.
I tossed my cigarette in a pool of blood, picked up the severed finger, and placed it in the zip-lock bag I brought along specially for it. Slither would receive yet another package with this little surprise in it. Symbolic for the finger he cut off Neon’s hand. Fucker wanted a finger, well, Ink and I would send him several.
Taking a seat across from the hanging corpse, I brushed my fingers up and down my beard. “You don’t blame me. Why?”
Ink didn’t look at me. He was too busy taking mental pictures of the mutilated body and the Python torn into shreds. “I don’t blame you. I blame them.” He nodded toward the corpses.
“It’s because of me—”
“It’s because of you and your father that I’m still breathing today. I’ll always be grateful for that.”