“I’m so sorry,” I breathed down on her in a rush, my hand finding her hair. Ayda held onto me tightly, one hand fisting my cut, the other hanging limply, barely hanging onto the knife. She tried to pull me closer, her voice hoarse, but unmistakable when she whispered to me, “Kill him.”
“Soon,” I whispered again, curling my arms impossibly tighter around her as I heard my men charge behind me, shouting and cursing at Owen who was laid out, drowning in his own agony. “His death can wait. You’re my priority. Just breathe with me for a second. Let me feel your heartbeat.”
The longer I held her, the more her body began to tremble in my grip. From the aching, the pain, or the adrenaline, I wasn’t sure. Releasing my cut, she pushed her palm against my chest, directly over my heart and gazed up at me.
“You kill him, Drew. It has to be you, and it has to hurt. Just in case.”
I frowned, my eyes searching hers wildly. “In case what?” I whispered.
Ayda trembled and held my gaze. “In case…” she paused and drew in a deep breath, ballooning her cheeks as she released it. “In case I’m pregnant.”
The word hung in the air, swinging between us while we stared into each other’s eyes. Me, looking at her like I’d misheard her. Ayda was looking at me like she was waiting for me to react.
“W-what?” was all I could breathe, my entire body freezing.
“I’m not certain, I just—” Cutting herself off, she swallowed and tried again. “I thought he was going to kill me. I could hear his finger on that trigger, and I realized the stupid things. I hadn’t told Tate that I loved him today. You and I, we haven’t had enough time. I was thinking of all these crazy things, and that’s when I realized… I haven’t had my period in over six weeks. I never noticed because so much has been going on. But, when I thought I was going to die…” She reached up, her hand cupping my neck as I searched her eyes, too lost in numbness to do or say anything. “Drew, Owen punched me in the stomach.”
My lips parted as I stared down at her; unable to form the words she needed to hear me say. I could barely feel the things I needed to feel. The porch felt like it moved beneath me, wooden slats shifting and creating a big black hole for the two of us to sink into while the rest of the day carried on, the sun shining brightly on a life we could have lived.
Pregnant.
Babies.
Kids.
Then all that panic seemed to fade away when Ayda’s eyes misted over in front of me, and that’s when the anger, the fear of losing something I didn’t even know I had, all rose like a slow burning fire, starting at my toes until it hit me in the gut at once. I flinched with her in my arms, forcing my fingers to flex around her.
Those muscles in my jaw ticked when I clamped my teeth together and let the violent shaking take over my limbs, but I tried to stay calm. I tried. Dear Lord, I fucking tried.
“Pregnant.” I swallowed.
“I don’t know for sure,” she whispered, her eyes closing for a second. The pressure made a single tear fall and trail down her cheek.
With a single finger pressed under her chin, I forced her gaze back to me. “But if you are…?”
“I’ve never thought about it before. I haven’t even considered—” Ayda broke off, her eyes fierce. “Now, it’s all I can think about. I can’t feel any other part of my body but there.”
My eyes drifted without permission, finding her stomach and locking on it hard. I swallowed compulsively, over and over again as I looked at it, not knowing what to do or how to feel, only knowing one thing for damn certain.
If my baby was in there, Owen had just put it in danger.
“Eric,” I called out hoarsely, my voice breaking halfway through and my gaze drifting back up to Ayda’s eyes. “Eric!” I shouted again, faster that time, more urgent.
He was by our side in seconds, his breaths panting in my ear when he crouched down and rested a hand on my shoulder. “What is it? Is she hurt?”
I couldn’t look at him when I spoke. Ayda held all my attention as my face twisted in some kind of pain and I rocked her in my arms again.
“I need you to take Owen to the training room,” I told him.
“Drew—”
“Now,” I said firmly, cutting him off. “No questions. Get it done. Tie him up. Make it tight. And then I need you to get Ayda some water. I need someone to hold her and sit with her a minute. Just a minute. I need…”
“I need to be where you are,” Ayda said, matter-of-factly.
“You’re hurt,” I whispered, wanting to press my hand to her stomach, just in case there was something magical growing there. To cover its ears and not let it know that both its parents were fucking crazy before it was even a real thing yet.
“I’ll be fine, and I have a right to be there, Drew. Please.”
She, like always, looked adamant about what she wanted.
I probably should have barked, shouted, and told her enough was enough for one day. No more blood. No more accidents. But she wasn’t the girl I’d met all those months ago anymore. She was stronger now. She had MC life in her veins, and no one knew how strong that made you as I did.
“You sure?” I asked just once.
Ayda nodded. Resolute. Unnerved. Her eyes were ice cold and made of stone, but her hand dropped to her stomach before she could think about what she was doing.
Eric’s eyes followed her movements. His attention shifted to where she was cradling before he slowly, ever so calmly, turned back to look at me. When our eyes connected, neither one of us had to say a damn word.
I could see his anger rising, too. And just like that, he gave me a small nod, and he rose to stand behind me, a rush of air leaving his cheeks as Slater and Jedd pushed a squealing, grunting Owen around.
“Get him to the training room,” Eric ordered. “Tie him up. Fuck him up a little bit too, if you want to. But no one gets to kill him but Drew.”
“Got it,” Slater answered.
“Move, fucker,” Jedd growled just as I glanced over my shoulder and saw him begin to push a limping Owen down the stairs.
My eyes landed on a wide-eyed looking Rubin, watching the two more experienced brothers as they led Owen away from Ayda and me. When Rubin turned to look back at The Hut, it wasn’t me he chose to focus on. It was Eric.
“Is he going to die?” he asked my father innocently.
“Ain’t we all?”
“Not all of us will die today.”
“Rather him than us then, hey?”
Rubin nodded a slow understanding nod and stared up at Eric. “I didn’t get to help this time.”
Eric began toward Rubin. “One step at a time, kid. Don’t rush into the fire every time. You’ll only end up getting burned.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
AYDA
Pregnant.
It hadn’t occurred to me at all until I’d been standing with a gun to my head feeling half dead and seeing Drew’s face like that. The hopelessness of the situation… there had been a moment, just one, where my life had become a flicker of images. Why my period of all things had popped into my brain, well, I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to answer that question. I just knew. Could feel it. As though it were some kind of intuition.
As Drew and I made our way to the training room, I could feel the tension and anger rolling from him like a storm from the ocean. Angry waves of it crashed at my feet, and there was no doubt in my mind that he was questioning himself on whether it was a good idea to have me there. What he couldn’t possibly understand was what was going on in my head right now. I needed to see that applied to the bastard that had jeopardized a future I hadn’t even known I’d wanted. I wanted to see him bleed. I wanted to hear him scream. I needed to see him die. For Harry, for Drew, for every one of the guys he’d betrayed, and a little for myself, too. As the pain started to wind its way through the adrenaline that was keeping me going, my need to see him suffer was my driving force.
Tugging on Drew’s hand, I pull
ed him to a stop less than ten feet from the training room.
“Drew,” I said quietly, peeking up at him through the one eye that wasn’t as swollen as the other. “Don’t hold back on my account, okay? I know you’re worried about me being in there. Don’t be.”
His jaw ticked, his gaze moving over the marks on my face before he looked me dead in the eyes. “I can handle it, Ayda, if you can once it’s over. Just promise me you can, and it’ll all be okay.”
“I can. I can handle this because I need to see that motherfucker bleed.”
Drew exhaled through his nose and nodded once, his fingers squeezing my hand. “Then let’s go and do this,” he whispered.
I tightened my fingers around his with as much enthusiasm as I could, considering what was about to go down. I’d never thought I’d ever want to see someone suffer in front of me, let alone suffer at the hands of someone I loved, but Owen Sinclair deserved anything Drew thought up for him.
Entering the room seemed to suck the air out of everything—the mood changing from anticipatory to murderous. It was dark, the smell of blood winding around us as we stepped inside. Eric, Slater, and Jedd stood in a loose circle around Owen who was on his knees and bound, blood pooling as it seeped from the wounds Eric and I had already inflicted on him. With one last squeeze to Drew’s hand, I released him, retreating into the shadows a little to give him the headspace he’d need to do what he was about to do. Though, by the look on his face, he was already there.
Rubin stepped up beside me, the kid’s hand finding mine as we stood together and watched in silence, neither of us really sure of what was coming next.
Drew’s boots seemed to sound like an earthquake going off with every stride he took around his former friend. His movements were controlled, and his eyes were fixed on the man in front of him as he slowly paced back and forth, with Eric, Jedd, and Slater close by. The seconds felt like hours, every one of us waiting for Drew to strike, but he seemed in his element, making his victim wait for the pain he had promised. He looked so calm, so quietly violent—he didn’t look like the soft man who lay beside me every night and swore to love me for eternity. Right now, Drew looked like he was fit for only one thing:
Murder.
Owen raised his head and lifted his chin, daring to look Drew right in the eye. Drew paced slowly, then stopped in front of his enemy, never blinking as he just… watched him.
More seconds passed. Minutes. Hours. It was torture. I wasn’t sure he was going to follow through and strike, as he’d forced the whole place into such a bubble of thick silence… until Drew shifted quicker than lightning, his body spinning around in a full circle, his leg raised in the air before smashing and swinging his steel-toe boots across Owen’s cheek with a force that seemed to make the whole room shake.
Drew was so focused on his prey. He was judge, jury, and executioner. He was a dark avenging angel who was so calm and collected that he was the only thing I could see. I felt Rubin’s hand tighten in mine and did my best to support him, but the only thing I felt running through my veins was justification as my other hand found my stomach.
Owen’s body was now laid out on the floor, his hands tied behind him as he groaned and coughed up more blood. That kick alone would have put a regular guy in a coma, but The Hounds had been training their whole lives for this kind of thing, and he wasn’t going to stay down for long.
Drew bent down, his knees cracking as he came to rest an arm over them and lean closer to Owen.
“That hurt?” he whispered roughly.
“Fuck you,” Owen spat.
“I’ll make a deal with you.” Owen looked up, blinking wildly as he stared into Drew’s eyes and waited for him to go on. “Tell me everything you know, and I’ll kill you quickly.”
Even when he was crippled with pain, Owen was still capable of unleashing a slow, cruel smirk. “I’d rather burn in Hell for the rest of my life than share anything with y—”
Drew’s fist swung so quickly, we almost missed it, his arm driving his punch under Owen’s chin to rattle his teeth and make his brain practically bleed from the force.
“I could punch the living shit out of you all day.” He sighed dramatically.
“Asshole,” Owen hissed, his body rolling him onto his back, despite his arms being trapped there. His chest rose, his spine coming off the floor before he coughed roughly and brought his knees up to his stomach.
Drew pushed himself forward, digging his fingers into the cut on Owen’s body and tugging him back up until he was on his knees again. Once in place, Owen’s head hung low, and blood dripped in one long stream from the corner of his mouth.
Drew tugged Owen closer, so close he could say everything he had to say right next to his swollen ear.
“Ever loved anyone, Owen?” he asked him, Drew’s voice menacing as he looked up at Jedd, Slater, and Eric in front of him as he spoke. “Ever really loved anyone in your whole life?”
“W-what?” Owen gasped, his brows creasing when he dared to try and lift his head.
“I asked you if you’ve ever loved someone besides yourself. I’m not talking about that hag of a wife you pretend to love just so you have someone to suck your dick at night—someone you can push around and make yourself feel like a king in your own home. I’m talking about true love. Someone you’ve kept hidden from all of us. A girl. A boy. A woman. Two men. A fucking horse. Ever woken up in the morning and thought shit, I’m gonna die without them in my life. I’m gonna stop breathing if I don’t get to hold them or see them today?”
Owen’s answer came a moment too late. That moment’s pause indicated he had, as did the way he searched the floor with his eyes, trying to find a way to hide his impending lie before he responded with a firm, “No.”
“Liar,” Drew whispered, his smile growing like he knew something I didn’t. His hands curled around Owen’s leather cut even tighter, pulling his entire body up in front of him like he didn’t weigh two hundred pounds. When their eyes met, it was the first time I’d ever seen even a flicker of fear on Owen’s face. “If you don’t tell me everything we need to know about Walsh and The Navs before I kill you, I can promise you one thing, Sinclair: I’m going to spend the rest of my life, no matter how long it takes, digging, clawing, fighting my way through every single fucking inch of your history, and I’m going to find that one person—maybe two, three, four-fucking-teen of them—who you’ve loved and kept hidden from all of us, and when I find them, I’m going to kill them even slower than I plan on killing you.”
I barely blinked, even as Rubin tensed beside me. I tugged him closer and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. It was a shocking approach to take, but if me being in his life had taught Drew one thing, it was that love sometimes made your priorities shift. Kill me? Whatever, we’re all gonna die one day. Kill the ones I love…? That gives you pause. Someone you love will die just because you were in their life. I felt sorry for anyone who loved Owen. A woman, man, child… his brand of love was worthless. The way Owen had treated his brothers was proof of that.
Owen remained silent, staring into the eyes of his executioner.
“Have it your way,” Drew said coldly, dropping Owen to the floor and standing over him, once again. With a nod to his brothers, Drew slowly began to remove the cut on his own back before he turned around to drop it carefully and respectfully onto a nearby bench.
He never had to give the order verbally. The others seemed to know what to do.
Jedd and Slater moved fast, dropping down to Owen’s body and making fast work of stripping him of his cut after slicing through the ropes they’d only just bound him with. Owen cried out in agony as they pushed and shoved him this way and that, shedding him of his leather first, then the shirt beneath it, until Owen was left in nothing but the dark, bloodstained jeans covering his wounded legs, and the boots on his feet.
Angry, bloody holes stood out against Owen’s pale skin. His life on the bike was reflected from the dual tone on his flesh, sun-kisse
d versus patches of stark white against it. Beneath his shirt was a weave of black ink, all of it tying to the club and the brethren he’d so easily betrayed. There was a hound’s head on each shoulder, a reaper on his chest, and on his back was the standard Hounds’ patch. Something that should have meant more to him than it had.
Blood pooled and trickled from the holes in his body as he struggled in an attempt to resist what was coming. His eyes flickered around the room, as though looking for an escape, but all he found was Rubin and me. His lip curled in disgust. Even this close to death, his anger was the only thing that mattered to him.
Drew followed Owen’s gaze to me, and just like that his fist swung again, even more violently this time, sending Owen’s face the other way and out of my focus.
Drew bent and reached for Owen’s face, squeezing it tight. “Don’t you dare look at her. You don’t get to see something so fucking beautiful before you die. Do you understand me?” His fingers pressed into Owen’s cheeks. All Owen could do was scrunch his eyes shut and let his mouth pop open. With his spare hand, Drew reached for the gun in his waistband, and he pushed it slowly into Owen’s mouth. “Do you… understand me?”
Owen could only open his eyes and blink, water pooling in them as Drew applied more pressure.
“My own fucking brother,” Drew breathed out, the hatred to one of his own evident. “And here I am, thinking of ways I can cut the skin off his back just so he doesn’t get to die with the hounds and the reaper by his side. Here I kneel, with a gun in my hand and my brother’s face in the other, at war with myself because a part of me just wants to blow your fucking throat out, while the other wants to bathe you in acid and watch your skin melt right the fuck off you. How could you do this, you treacherous bastard?”
WITHOUT SHAME: Babylon MC Book 4 Page 31