by J, Bella
Slither’s head lolled from side to side, eyes fluttering open every now and then.
I licked my lips. “You going to tell the others?”
I heard him inhale before flicking the cigarette to the ground, stomping on it. “If you asked me this yesterday, I’d say yes without hesitating.”
“But?”
“But…after what went down today,” he looked at me, “I know how much you need to do this. I know that if you don’t fuck him up, you’ll never be able to move on.” He turned back to staring at Slither. “It’s fucked up and all kinds of wrong. But I get it. You love her.”
I raised a brow. “So…”
“So, I won’t tell anyone.”
I breathed out a sigh of relief, like water flowing over dry land.
“But you will.”
My heart stopped. “What?”
Manic straightened, turning to face me. “Neon needs to know.”
“No.” I shook my head. “No way. She’s not ready.”
He stepped right up to me, and there was no mistaking the seriousness in his eyes. “We’re all hurt over what this asshole did to her. We all need some sort of revenge for what happened. But Neon is the one who deserves it. She’s the one who deserves the satisfaction of driving a stake through this fucker’s heart. Not you. Not Onyx. Not Crow. Neon.” He pointed toward Slither, his jaw clenched and his eyes set. “She needs to watch him pay for what he’s done. She needs to be the one who ends him. Don’t you dare take that away from her.”
For a moment, it seemed like he was no longer talking about Neon, but someone else, and I was certain I saw pain flash across his blue-green irises. Even the large scar on his face seemed to ache. The thick mark that marred his face became more prominent with every passing second.
“Promise me, Ink.”
“She’s not ready. She’s not strong enough for this.”
“Do not underestimate her. Nothing is as strong as one’s need for revenge.”
“She needs more time.”
“No. She doesn’t. That whole thing about time heals everything is bullshit. The only way she’ll get over it is if you throw her in the deep end and force her to deal with it, because if she doesn’t, her mind just keeps on wandering in that dark place. The longer she stays there, that harder it will be to escape it.”
“You sound like you’re talking from experience.”
“You bet your ass I am.” The hard lines on his face spoke volumes. For a man who never seemed to take anything seriously, he sure as fuck seemed serious right now.
I studied him for a few seconds, wondering what kind of ghosts lurked in his past. That scar on his face was hiding a lot of secrets, one of which he accidentally spilled after he got drunk off his ass. Since I was drunk too, I didn’t remember much of our conversation, but I remembered two words coming out of his mouth that night. Self-inflicted.
With a slight nod, I agreed. “I’ll tell her.”
He took a step back. “Good.”
“Tell her…warn her…help her,” Slither mumbled, and Manic and I looked his way. “Her pink dress. She looks so pretty. He’ll ruin it. He’s going to break her. Break, take, ache, cake. Cake. I don’t want to eat cake. Not tonight. No cake tonight.”
“What the fuck?” Manic stood frozen on the spot. “What’s going on with him?”
I brushed my hair back. “He’s delirious. He’s been hallucinating and mumbling shit ever since I came in here.”
Manic looked at me but pointed at Slither. “Is he talking about what happened to him and Wraith as kids?”
“I think so.”
Manic cautiously approached him, taking one slow step at a time. “Who’s going to break her?”
“Manic,” I objected. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Shush.” He held out his hand, and I really wished I had that pair of fucking shears.
“Is someone going to hurt your sister?”
Slither’s head rolled back, his eyes still fluttering open and closed. “He’s going to hurt her, just like they hurt me. I can’t help her. I’m too weak. Too weak. Too weak. I can’t help her.”
“Who hurt you?”
What the fuck was Manic doing?
Slither started laughing again, a loud cackle that freaked me the fuck out. It sounded like something from a goddamn horror movie.
“Mommy says it’s okay. It’s okay to make her feel good. She loves me. She’s lying.”
I stepped forward. “Manic, stop.” I didn’t like what was happening. He sounded too vulnerable, too broken, and I didn’t like how it made me feel. The emotions that suddenly stirred deep inside me. It was wrong.
“You’re a big boy now.” His voice became soft, his breathing labored after every word. “You’re a big boy.” Abruptly his head jerked to the side. “Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me.” His voice trembled. “Please, it hurts. Stop. Stop.” His entire body shuddered, the chains rattling above him.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” I pulled a palm down my face, unable to make sense of what the fuck I was witnessing.
“She’s screaming. I can hear her scream. Please. Stop. She’s screaming.”
My heart leaped up my throat, and I choked on a goddamn breath as Slither’s hallucinations of his past triggered the memories of mine.
“I don’t want to hear her scream. You’re hurting me. You’re hurting her. Get away. Get away!” he screamed. He screamed so loud, his voice fragmented into torturous cries, and it sent chills up my spine.
Manic stood frozen, as stunned as I was. “At the risk of sounding like a pussy, this is fucking worse than seeing him suffer with a broken leg. Far worse.” His gaze cut to me. “Is there something we can do to get him out of this”—he glanced at Slither—“this crazy fucking state he’s in?”
“I already adjusted the flow of the IV. It should start working soon.”
Another scream ripped from Slither’s throat, a sound of pure fear, a sound that made my stomach turn inside out.
After his screams subsided, his head lolled forward, exhaustion and pain digging its fangs into his body, but everything had already passed the point where it got weird as fuck in this room.
Manic brushed a palm down his face. “Jesus, his parents sure did a number on him.”
I narrowed my eyes, not trusting the hint of compassion I picked up on in his voice. “Manic, come on.” I grabbed his elbow, urging him toward the door. “We need to leave before he starts fucking with our heads. The IV should have him better soon.”
Manic and I walked out, but I took a last glance in Slither’s direction, his face screwed up in agony. But something told me it wasn’t from the burn on his face or the broken leg. He was in his own hell, his mind torturing him with memories from the past.
Nevertheless, there was nothing in this world that could change the hate I felt for this man, and I didn’t give a fuck what kind of childhood he had. We were all fucked up in some way or another, but that did not give us the right to destroy other people. So, I refused to feel sorry for him. A man’s cross was his own to bear, and only a coward unleashed his demons on others—which was exactly what Slither did the day he took Neon.
12
Neon
To finally get the brace off my leg was awesome. Doc warned me it would take a while for my leg to heal completely, until I could finally use it without worrying about discomfort or pain. But I was happy to deal with it if I could walk around without a goddamn cast or brace.
“Good to have that thing off, huh?” Dutch opened the fridge and grabbed a slice of leftover pizza.
“It feels fucking great.” I smiled before turning the page of the magazine I was browsing.
Dutch was about to take a bite from the pizza when he pulled a face, sniffing the slice. “You know how old this is?”
“Nope.”
“Yeah, I think I’ll choose life.” He tossed the pizza in the bin, and I chuckled. “Hey, have you seen Alyx and Red?”
With a
grin, I looked at him. “Why do you want to know?”
“Just asking.”
“Bullshit. You have the hots for the redhead, don’t you?”
“That’s not—”
“Neon,” Ink walked into the kitchen, interrupting us, “can I talk to you?” His gaze cut to Dutch. “Alone.”
“Sure, King Ink.” I pulled my face. “That sounds terrible. Hey, you know what I just realized?”
Ink cocked a brow.
“We’ve known each other for, like, what? Five years-ish?”
“Five years, two months, and twelve days.”
I blinked. “Okay, that’s not weird at all.”
Ink shrugged. “You want a timestamp on that exact day?”
“Oh, my God, no.” I shook my head lightly. “You know what? Never mind.” I got up and straightened. “What do you want to talk to me about?”
His gaze dropped to my legs. “Your leg brace is off.”
“Yeah. Doc gave me the go-ahead today.”
Ink’s brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing Doc today?”
“Uh…I didn’t know I had to.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly agitated. “I would have been here if I knew.”
“Why? It was just a checkup.”
His eyes locked on mine. “Still. You should have told me.”
I scoffed. “Oh, my God. Ink, I’m perfectly capable of handling a checkup with Doc on my own.”
He stepped closer, and it instantly felt like all the oxygen escaped from the space around me. “I know you’re capable, but that doesn’t change the fact that I want to be here for you.”
“It’s a fucking checkup, for Christ’s sake. You don’t have to be there for me every second of every goddamn day.”
“Says who?” With another step, he moved right up to me, his boots touching my black sneakers while his large frame crowded me. His scent wrapped around me like a blanket of comfort. The smell of him had my heart beating a staccato rhythm against my ribs. It wasn’t a feeling I was familiar with, having my heart react to any man being so close to me. It was unnerving, causing me to want to take a step back, but I couldn’t. Something was pinning me on the spot. I was frozen, unable to move away from the man who seemed to thaw the ice in my heart, little by little. Day by day.
He reached out and touched my chin with his thumb—soft, gentle, as if he was sure I would break under the slightest pressure. “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m here for you, and I want to help?”
“You can’t bubble wrap me, Ink.”
“Try me.”
“I’m serious.”
“And so the fuck am I.” He lifted my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye. “You can try to ignore it, even fight it if that makes you feel more in control. But in the end, you know just as well as I do that there’s something here. There’s something between us, and pretty soon you won’t be able to ignore it anymore.”
I licked my lips, his brown eyes dark and determined, threatening to break down the walls around me, one emotional wound at a time. It scared me, thinking this man had the power to take my hardened heart and make it vulnerable again. I was already a mere shadow of myself, and all I had left was the air in my lungs forcing life into my veins.
“You have to stop. I have nothing to offer you, Ink.”
His thumb gently brushed down my lips. “You have everything I want.”
The kitchen door slammed shut, shattering the moment into pieces of glass. I took a step back, noticing Dutch had left. A part of me felt thankful the moment passed. It had become too heavy—a weight I wasn’t ready to carry yet.
I cleared my throat. “What is it that you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Oh, yeah.” He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a piece of paper. “I was thinking about Red’s offer to tattoo the scars on your back.”
“Ink, I don’t think—”
He slammed the piece of paper on the counter, and I looked down, a drawing of a large bird, wings spread wide, and what looked like flames surrounding it. “What is that?”
“It’s something I’ve been working on for a while.”
I frowned and reached out to pick it up. “I didn’t know you can draw.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve designed all my tattoos.”
“Is that what this is? A design for a tattoo?”
He nodded. “It’s a phoenix, the bird—”
“That rises from the ashes,” I completed his sentence, staring at the drawing in awe. It was beautiful, the intricate lines drawn with flawless technique. And the detail was amazing, every feather shaded and outlined to perfection. I couldn’t stop myself from tracing my fingertip along the drawing.
“Ink, this is beautiful.”
“I thought it would be perfect, covering your scars with something as magnificent as the phoenix.”
I looked at him, his expression soft and inviting, and all I wanted to do was have him wrap his arms around me, and that scared me too—the fact that I wanted him close.
“Neon, I know this is probably easier said than done, but you’ve been knocked down, and getting those scars covered is the first step to getting yourself back up.”
I placed the drawing back down and walked to the other side of the counter, leaning against the wall, a heavy silence surrounding us. “You really think ink will cover the scars?”
He bit his lip and craned his neck, looking at the ceiling, hands on his sides. Suddenly, the atmosphere around us felt heavy, the silence laden with something unspoken, the prelude to a moment that had the potential to change the course of our conversation.
With a heavy sigh, he roughed his hand through his hair before grabbing his shirt and pulling it over his head. His black hair was ruffled, a perfect mess as he tossed his shirt on the floor.
I crossed my arms. “What are you doing?”
“I need to show you something.”
As my gaze raked over his naked chest, I realized that I had never seen him without a shirt before. For years, I lived with these men, and I was used to them walking around half naked. Fuck, I’d seen Granite completely naked right after he and Alyx…no, not going there. But Ink, he had never walked around without a shirt—at least not for me to see. And now, all I could do was stand there and stare at him, taking in every roped muscle, his heavy-set chest perfectly defined with power and strength. I never saw it before now—I never saw him.
Tattoos covered every inch of his skin, disappearing down his pants and stretching all the way up to his neck. Roses, crosses, clocks, skulls—there were images of so many things, it would take me hours, maybe even days to study each and every tattoo. The silver studs pierced through both nipples glinted under the kitchen light, the perfect accessory to the canvas.
I swallowed. “What is it you want to show me?”
With slow, calculated steps, he moved closer, and my heart started racing. I held my breath, unable to take my eyes off him. He looked fucking beautiful in that moment, the art on his skin decorating every muscle, every curve, creating an image of a man bathed in authority and dripping with dominance. It took me five years, two months, and twelve days to see it.
“I’ve never showed anyone.” His throat moved as he swallowed.
“What is it?”
“This.” Slowly, he turned, and I gasped softly, a wisp of air rushing past my lips as I stared at the image that covered every inch of his back. A dragon, scaled and magnificent, engulfed by flames—just like his drawing of the phoenix. But it wasn’t the tattoo that had my legs unsteady beneath me. It was the scars—scars I could only see because I was standing so close to him. Hidden under the detailed scales of the dragon were scars, every line, every shade and shadow touching marred skin.
Without thinking and completely mesmerized, I reached out, my fingertips burning with the need to touch. The second I placed my finger on the tip of the dragon’s curled tail, I heard him inhale sharply, and my heart physi
cally hiccupped. I could feel it, the affliction hidden beneath the black ink, the pain buried beneath the scars—I felt him.
“Ink—”
“I was twenty-two.” His voice was soft, husky as he hung his head, his shoulders taut. “My brother asked me to babysit his two-year-old daughter.”
“You have a brother?”
“Had. I had a brother.”
“Oh, my God,” I whispered. “What happened?”
“It was only supposed to be for an hour or two while he went out to buy his wife an anniversary gift.” Ink snorted. “Fucker forgot about it, and by the time he remembered, it was almost time for his wife to get back from work.” He paused, and his shoulder moved as he breathed. “Mia was sleeping in her room, so I stayed behind while he rushed out. I fell asleep. I fucking fell asleep after working two shifts at the hospital.”
I frowned. “The hospital?”
He glanced halfway over his shoulder. “I worked as a nurse in the ER before…” he choked, “…before my life got shot to shit.”
If this was any other time, I would have chewed his ass relentlessly, cracking every murse joke there was. But there was too much weight in his words, a heavy burden that had his shoulders slumped. I just…I couldn’t believe the Ink I knew worked in a hospital, saving lives. Yet now it made sense how he would always be around helping with my injuries, always knowing exactly what Doc was talking about.
“It’s hard to imagine, right?” He shot me a half smile over his shoulder. “Anyway, I fell asleep on the couch downstairs. Exhausted. Her screams woke me up—high pitched, panicked screams that sliced through me.”
I pulled my hand from his back like his skin had burned me, and I whimpered.
He turned to face me, his expression grim with regret. “There was smoke everywhere. I couldn’t see shit. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on. It was only when I rushed up the stairs that I realized what was happening. Jesus.” He leaned his head back, eyes cast up to the roof like he was searching for strength to finish his story. “Flames blazed down the corridor, the smoke so thick I could hardly breathe. I couldn’t keep my eyes open long enough to see where I was going.”