Sive

by Daniela Jackson

  I tumble her on her back, clutching her hip, and pound into her as her walls are still contracting around me. My cock slams her cervix with each thrust. She whimpers beneath me, but it only makes everything around me and inside me bubblier. Hotter. Wilder.

  I fuck her relentlessly and feel her body thrash in satisfaction again. She screams of pleasure, her voiced laced with a slight hoarseness. My body becomes taut. I feel like I’m rising towards something elemental and mystical. My balls clench and a powerful wave carries me towards my peak. I shatter into a thousand pieces. I’m blind. I’m ultimately happy.

  My lips search for Sive’s. She’s crying into my mouth, shaking in the aftermath. I kiss her deeper, sinking my fingers into her hair.

  It’s my own fucking heaven.

  A sharp sound like the bang made by fireworks comes inside the house muffled by the walls and windows. Then another bang. And another. Except they are not fireworks. They are gunshots somewhere far from here. I can recognise that sound with no difficulty.

  Sive stiffens against me.

  I get up and dizziness fills my head. Sive holds my wrist as we go downstairs to the living room.

  My hand plunges into the back pocket of my jeans and I take out my phone, choosing Zane from my contact list. But he doesn’t answer my call. Sive’s wide eyes lock on mine.

  “Go back to bed, baby,” I say in a soft voice.

  I don’t want to scare her. Sive looks at me sternly then slips into my t-shirt and I pull on my jeans.

  “Alright,” I say. “Maybe they were fireworks.”

  Sive shakes her head and holds my hand as I try to call Zane again. The sirens of at least two ambulances come to my ears. Zane doesn’t answer.

  “The boys are in ‘Jilly Jet’,” I say in a dry voice and drop into the chair.

  Sive kisses my forehead and Ma calls me. It’s bad. I just fucking know that.

  “Axel,” Ma says in a shaky voice. “Come to the hospital. Dad has been shot—“

  “Zane?” I ask sharply and start pacing around the room.

  “Zane has only a few scratches on his arm and face and a few bruises,” Ma says and sobs, “Dash...”

  “What about Dash?” I growl.

  “They shot him dead, Axel. He is dead.” Ma takes a deep breath and squeals like an animal, trying to stifle her cry.

  “What about the others?” I question.

  “They are fine,” Ma says like her throat has turned into a thin thread. “Dad will need a surgery.”

  “I’m coming.” My glance meets Sive’s and she nods at me.

  ***

  As we enter through the hospital glass front door, I can’t recall my way. Sive is holding my hand and Ma approaches us, meandering among people.

  “He’s in the theatre,” Ma says and pulls Sive into her embrace.

  Sive’s closeness seems to soothe her and my mermaid strokes her arms up and down.

  Zane emerges from behind the corner and joins us. A few scratches mark his face and red stains dot his t-shirt. We go along the hospital corridor in silence then stop in front of the entrance to the theatre.

  The surgery takes four hours. The four hours of nervous eternity filled with horrible coffee, sitting in the uncomfortable hospital chairs, chats about nothing. Blaze and his lady joined us twenty minutes ago. We talk about Boulder, but nobody mentions Dash.

  At 2.47 am, two surgeons walk out of the theatre. The woman lowers her surgical mask and greets us.

  “We removed the bullets from the patient’s chest but there was a complication,” she says.

  Ma takes a sharp breath and Zane strokes her back with his palm, his face pale like there is no blood in his body.

  “A stroke,” the male doctor continues. “The patient is in coma.”

  Numbness spreads in my head and body. I feel nothing. Sive runs her palm up and down my arm and holds my hand. Ma cries quietly.

  The doctors leave us and Blaze slaps me on the back.

  “You’re the president now,” Blaze says.

  ***

  The funerals are always rainy.

  I turn my head and glance at Sive as the wind smacks my face and dust invades my eyes. She’s shaking. Weeping like the world around us.

  Ominous clouds have gathered in the sky. Gloom presses against the shoulders of the attendants of the funeral and the priest hurries with prayers to finish before the storm grows to its full fury.

  Dash’s coffin rests at the bottom of the grave and his mother sobs as the gust of the wind almost tears the umbrella from her hand. Ziggy wipes tears from his eyes and lowers his head to hide it. Ma shelters him with her umbrella and her feet sink into the mud forming across the small burial ground. Dash’s parents are Catholics and wanted a catholic funeral for him so he’s going to have his own gravestone and a stone angel among all the others. Dash always liked this place. He will be happy here.

  My glance meets Ma’s for an instant. Boulder still hasn’t awoken. A thought hammers in my head. I have to save the club. I’m responsible for the boys and their families now.

  My eyes meet Samael’s dark ones. The dick has attended with his two bulls. A half smile plays on his lips. Sive was right when she saw him for the first time yesterday. He looks like a real prince of hell. Two deep furrows on his face and bushy dark eyebrows enhance the aura of ruthlessness around him. Even I’m unnerved when I look at him. And very rarely do I feel unnerved.

  The funeral attendants start to disperse in all directions. Ma loops her arm through Sive’s and they walk off as I head to ‘Jilly Jet’, helping Ziggy walk. Our clothes are drenched and goose bumps pop up all over my skin.

  The boys and I gather at the office and Samael joins us. His bulls stay outside. Gunner rubs his red eyes, Zane takes out a bottle of vodka, and Ziggy smokes his cigarette.

  Samael takes a seat as I settle myself into the president’s chair opposite him and wipe the rainwater from my face. The atmosphere resembles that of inside a tomb. Zane pours the alcohol into the glasses and we drink for Dash in silence. Gunner sniffles and wipes tears leaking from his eyes, but nobody comments or laughs. We all loved Dash like he was our blood brother. Damn. He was our brother. The youngest of us all.

  “Now the business,” Samael says.

  “I’m listening,” I say as butterflies fill my chest.

  “You take my daughter,” Samael says, “and I give you enough people to smash the Cobras.”

  “Where is the catch?” I ask.

  “There is no catch,” Samael says. “We will be a family. We’ll respect each other like a family would. We’ll trust each other like a family would.”

  “You could just employ us,” I say.

  “You’re not listening to me, boy,” Samael says with irritation, raising his finger at me. Three gold signet rings adorn his digits. “You can’t buy trust. You can’t buy honour.”

  I stifle an urge to take out my gun and put a bullet into his skull.

  “It’s a fair deal,” Samael says. “You won’t survive without me.”

  I know that. The next time the Cobras will come to erase us. There are women and kids to protect. Heaviness presses against my chest and something drills into my heart.

  “The Cobras have no honour,” Samael says. “But I have to make a deal. Either with you or with them. Do we have a deal?”

  My glance meets Zane’s. My brother shakes his head, clearly disapproving that kind of deal.

  “I will also sort out the mess with the police,” Samael says.

  Yes, another issue requiring my attention. Grant didn’t take any money this time. He may cause trouble sooner or later.

  I feel like a wild animal entrapped in a small cage. There is no right decision available for me to make. There are only the wrong decisions to make.

  “Deal,” I say and this one word sucks the whole life out of me.

  The angry murmur of the boys’ resentment wafts though the air as everything inside me turns into ashes. I had to make that de
cision. I had to do something to save the club, the boys and our families. To preserve our way of life.

  It means I’ve just lost Sive. I’ve lost my life.

  I turn into an outraged monster. There is only one instinct in my head—to kill as many of the Cobras as possible.

  Sive

  Axel didn’t return from ‘Jilly Jet’ but Ziggy knocked on the door late in the evening. Amanda opened the door for him and invited him in. He was very tired and didn’t talk much. Amanda fed him and he slept on the couch.

  Now he’s eating breakfast with me and Amanda.

  “So my son ordered you to supervise us like two little children,” Amanda says with sarcasm.

  “He’s my president, woman,” he says and looks at me with concern.

  “What is going on?” Amanda asks. “You’ve been very quiet since yesterday.”

  “He’s going to sort out the problem with the Cobras,” Ziggy says.

  “Hold on a minute,” Amanda explodes. “He’s going to start a war? Is this what you’re trying to say? Who is going to help him? It’s a suicide.”

  “He’s going with Samael’s boys,” Ziggy says.

  “Fuck,” Amanda says and rises from her chair. Her fist slams on the table. “Did my son make the deal with that creepy dick?”

  “I won’t tell you.” Ziggy’s eyes sweep over me as though he’s trying to soothe me with his gaze.

  “He did.” Amanda starts pacing around the kitchen then she pulls me into her embrace and kisses the top of my head. “I’m so sorry, kiddo. I can’t believe it. I’m so sorry.”

  I feel like a knife has stabbed my heart. My subconscious tells me that something is wrong. Something will change dramatically. Something will change forever.

  Unexpectedly, the memory of my mother’s funeral flashes through my mind. A subtle sense of loss and sadness fills my veins. I feel like I’ve just lost something precious to me. Like I can’t find the way home. Like everybody has abandoned me and an endless cold void is surrounding me.

  My gaze shifts to Amanda’s.

  “Damn it,” Amanda growls and clutches my arm. “Listen to me, Sive. My son is a fucking dick, but I won’t leave you. Ever. You’re my daughter whatever happens. You’re staying with me. I’ll take care of you, sweetie.”

  My body shakes like the temperature has dropped massively and my heart pounds. I’m sure Amanda and Ziggy can hear my heartbeat.

  Amanda pulls back. “I will never speak to him again. It wasn’t Boulder’s wish. He wanted us to pack our clothes and go somewhere else. To start over. To leave this whole shit. Not to force Axel to marry someone he doesn’t want to marry.”

  I open my mouth to ask questions, but my voice stops in my throat and a wave of convulsions goes down my body.

  Amanda wraps her arms around me, and I cling to her. I think Axel won’t become my husband. I think he’s going to marry somebody else.

  Drowsiness fills my head and I gasp.

  “Axel is an idiot,” Ziggy says. “The girl is a sweet angel. He’s an idiot.”

  Chapter 25

  Sive

  Ziggy couldn’t stand my convulsive gasps and spilled everything out.

  At least, I can plan my future now.

  I think I will move into Amanda’s house then tidy up the attic in my gallery. There is enough space to accommodate a bedroom, a small kitchen and an even smaller bathroom. The money for adapting the attic might be a problem. I guess I should start stealing cars again and try to sell them.

  I also haven’t figured out how to deal with Axel when I see him next time. Maybe avoiding him is going to work for a few months until my broken heart heals. Except such a wound never heals.

  Axel is going to marry another woman. He wants to save the club, his boys, Amanda. Me. It doesn’t hurt less though.

  He broke my heart, but I want him to be safe. I will always want him to be safe.

  Amanda finishes plaiting my hair, and I force myself to eat breakfast. Ziggy flashes me a warm smile and sips his tea with rum. We are going to visit Boulder then clean up the gallery and hang my drawings.

  I feel like a dead flower with a mummified crown and nonexistent roots. My mind floats in a sad greyness. I follow Amanda’s commands like a machine and shudder each time she touches me.

  I cried for the whole night, and my eyes are puffy and red. Amanda pushes my head back and places two cooled bags of tea on my eyelids as I lean back in the chair.

  “It will help,” she says and strokes my cheek with her knuckles.

  I suck in a breath.

  “Don’t say anything, sweetheart,” Amanda soothes and supports my head in both her hands, standing behind me.

  We leave the house ten minutes later and go to the hospital.

  Boulder is still unconscious.

  The medical equipment beeps and drones around him, and Amanda bursts into tears.

  “He will be fine,” Ziggy says.

  Amanda takes Boulder’s hand and kisses his knuckles. “Come back to me, you old bastard. Don’t you dare leave me.”

  We are sitting around the hospital bed for half an hour, enveloped by the sounds and smells of the hospital’s environment. Ziggy smacks his lips and Amanda sighs then she nods at me and rises to her feet. She kisses Boulder’s forehead and helps Ziggy stand up.

  We go to my gallery. I sense that Amanda wants to be occupied with work so we just dampen the cloths and lose ourselves in the task. Ziggy is watching us from his chair.

  Neither Axel nor Zane calls us and later Maria pops in. Her eyes are as blood shot as mine.

  “Have you heard anything?” Maria asks.

  “No,” Amanda says in a gruff voice.

  “Mac and his boys went with them,” Maria says.

  “It’s big,” Amanda comments as her voice stirs. “It’s really big.”

  “It is, indeed,” Maria says as her face darkens and her naso-labial folds deepen. She crosses herself and glides her fingers over the silver cross on her cleavage.

  “We can only wait and hope that everything will be fine,” Amanda says and raises her hand with a mop.

  “Do you need a helpful hand?” Maria asks and Amanda hands her the mop.

  Ziggy brings us some food from the cafe across the road, and we start hanging my drawings late in the afternoon.

  After nine, Amanda, Ziggy and I go back to Axel’s house. The garage is silent like a graveyard. Sadness coats me like a cold fog. Tomorrow I’m moving in with Amanda.

  I enter the house first. My eyes sweep over the living area. My heart stops beating and I freeze with my palms facing the ceiling. A shooting pain courses through my chest. Owen is sitting in the couch. A contented smile parts his lips, but his eyes radiate with falseness.

  Amanda stands beside me as the rattle of Ziggy’s wheelchair resounds behind me.

  “Fuck,” Amanda mutters under her breath.

  Owen raises himself from his seat and spreads his arms, sauntering towards us.

  “Don’t touch her,” Amanda hisses.

  Ziggy stops at my other side and we steel ourselves like two enemy troops just before the battle starts.

  “Move away from my daughter, bitch,” Owen says in a cold voice.

  He corrects the collar of his white shirt and grins, but his face oozes pure ruthlessness.

  “She is not your daughter, you fucking dick,” Amanda says as her voice trembles.

  I jerk my head to the side and my eyes flick over the gun in Ziggy’s hand.

  “Get out,” Ziggy says, raising the gun.

  Owen chuckles. “Really? Are you going to shoot me, you old man?” He raises his hands in a warding gesture. “Angel, it’s time to go home. You’ve been very naughty.”

  Nausea rolls over me at his words.

  “She is at home,” Amanda says.

  “Don’t piss me off, bitch,” Owen says. “If you say one more word to me I’ll lock you away for a few years. Angel—“

  I clench my fists whilst Owen reaches t
o his back with his hand and takes out his gun, aiming it at Amanda.

  “Angel,” he repeats firmly and waves his other hand at me.

  I step forward, but Amanda grabs my wrist.

  “No fucking way,” Amanda says as her fingers dig into my flesh.

  Her hand is sweaty and it trembles.

  “Let’s end this circus at last,” Owen says, his eyes darkened by insanity.

  My heart thumps in my ears. The air around us thickens like a cloud of doom and pricks my skin like an electric current. Seconds turn into eternity.

  “The girl is staying with us,” Ziggy says.

  Owen aims his gun at him. “I think you’re going to die first, old man.”

  Rage awakens inside me. It grows in strength and floods me like a tsunami. I’m a black fury. And nothing more. My mind is sharp. My hands rise like two clawed axes. My body becomes taut and I spurt towards the psychopath in front of me. A gunshot tears at the air as I dig my fingers into Owen’s neck and sink my teeth into his arm. He grabs the back of my neck and squeezes it with his hand. The pain paralyses me and my body hovers to the side. Something sharp digs into my cheek and a burning agony seizes my eye and chest, accompanied by the sound of glass breaking. I can’t breathe. My ears fill with Amanda’s scream and Ziggy’s growls. Another gunshot tears at the air. A red fog thickens in my head as I lever myself up on my elbows and my intact eye flicks over the shards of the coffee table beneath me. Every movement causes pain to spread across my skin like a thousand needles jab me at the same time. Blood covers everything—my arms, my surroundings, my vision, the sea of dark redness. I’m drowning into this redness.

  I jerk my head to the side and notice Owen sitting on Amanda’s chest. Strangling her. She fights desperately for her breath as gurgling sounds escape her mouth. Owen is going to finish her off. I crawl to the side as my palm touches a triangular piece of glass. I don’t think. My basic instinct guides me as close my fingers around this dagger-like shape. Amanda’s legs jerk to the sides and I know I have to act quickly. She will die in a few seconds. I crawl towards Owen and sweep my hand armed with the glass dagger. The edges of it tear the skin of my palm as it sinks into Owen’s back. He groans and his body arches, trembles then collapses onto Amanda. She shakes him off her and sits up, taking a sharp breath like she’s catching her life back.