by J, Bella
When the old man died and I became president, I continued his legacy by doing the work we did. Now, with this new threat over our heads as the Pythons kept closing in on our territory, we had no choice but to rethink all our shit and come up with a plan to ensure the wellbeing of the club. But with this plan came a huge risk. If anything went wrong, we would risk losing our most important ally. Yet if this all played out the way we planned, the reward would be far sweeter. For the club…and me.
Yeah. I was one selfish son of a bitch, and it was my own personal greed for something money couldn’t buy that gave birth to this plan of ours. And I knew any plan that entailed taking down the Pythons, my men would be on board with. It was a double-whammy.
The gym started to fill with people, and I took that as my cue to bounce. Crowds weren’t exactly my thing—especially troubled teenagers who’d rather come here in the morning than be at school where their asses should be.
Dutch came walking in, fists already wrapped, ready to fight. “Yo, Granite. You good?”
“Yup.” I wiped the sweat from my face.
“Wanna stick around and check out some of the talent we got here?”
“Nope.”
Dutch scowled at me. “The students know you run this place, Granite. They know you’re in charge, and they want to meet you.”
“Well, I don’t want to meet them.”
“Don’t be such a hard-ass.”
I snorted. “You can thank fuck I like you, or I’d have to kick your ass for dissing me like that.”
“I’m serious. You can’t always run from shit.”
My nostrils flared. “I’m not running.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
I brushed past him when he called out, “And the girl?”
Exhaling, I stopped but didn’t turn. “What about her?”
“You sure she’s just part of the plan, nothing more?”
“What the fuck do you mean?” I turned to face him.
He looked me in the eye without blinking. “I’m not stupid, Granite. I can see the connection.”
“What connection?” I hissed through my teeth, not liking where this conversation was heading.
Dutch kept my gaze. “She reminds you of someone…doesn’t she?”
“Do not.” I clenched my jaw and held up a finger. “Do not fucking go there, my friend.”
“I loved her too. But I don’t go around avoiding shit because of it.”
To walk away was the best option at that point. I’d hate for my anger to get the better of me. The topic of conversation was something that would make me do shit I’d regret, like planting my fist in Dutch’s face. So I walked.
“Yo, dude,” he called out. “Stop. I’m sorry, man.”
I stilled, wiping the towel down the side of my face.
“We’re all on edge. I just want to make sure you’re okay, and that your head is in the game.”
I snorted with sarcasm before turning to face him again. “My head is always in the game. You don’t have to question that.”
“I’m not. I’m just looking out for a friend.” Dutch looked over my shoulder toward the main entrance. “Ah, fuck.”
“What?” I glanced in the same direction.
“It’s that boy I told you about last week.”
“The one you suspect is getting his ass kicked back at home?”
“Yup. Look at his face.”
The scrawny teenager was wearing a black hoody, trying to hide the bruise on his cheek but doing a piss poor job at it. “What’s his name?”
“Trent.”
I placed my towel over my shoulder and called out, “Yo, Trent.”
The boy looked at me.
“Get your ass over here.”
Trent looked around him, behind him, then back at me as if he wasn’t sure I was talking to him.
“Yeah, you. Get over here.”
Trent slowly moved toward us, and it was painfully obvious the boy was scared as hell. But the closer he came, the clearer we saw the blue and black bruise that stretched all the way from his eye to the bottom of his nose.
“How’d you get that?” I pointed to his face.
“I…um—”
“Spit it out,” I warned.
“Please,” he started, “I don’t want trouble. I’m just here to learn how to fight.”
I crossed my arms. “You got someone you need to defend yourself against?”
The boy glanced around the gym, and Dutch stepped forward. “Take off the goddamn hoody, would you?”
Trent cautiously slipped the hoody from his head, and when I saw the blue bruises around his throat, clearly from someone’s hand, my rage started to simmer. There was a lot of nasty shit I could tolerate, but child abuse wasn’t on the list. In my opinion, if you could beat up a kid, you could burn in your own personal corner in hell.
I glanced around the gym and noticed Ink standing by the back entrance. I moved closer, staring down at the boy. “Who the fuck did this to you, son?”
“Nobody.” His voice shook, the vein in his neck going apeshit.
“Do not lie to me, boy.” I wanted to shake the truth right out of him, but Dutch stepped in when he saw I was about to lose my shit.
“Trent, we can’t help if you don’t tell us what the hell is going on.”
“I don’t need help.” His jaw clenched, nostrils flared. It was a mix between anger and fear, something I knew a lot about.
Dutch reached out and grabbed the boy’s chin, turning his face to the side, scrutinizing the bruise. “Sure looks like you don’t need fucking help.”
“Listen,” I pulled the hairband from my wrist and tied my hair behind my neck, “if you want to get roughed up for the rest of your fucking life, be my guest, but let me tell you this. If you don’t do something about it now, the day you’re old enough to fuck off to who knows where, whoever is doing this to you will just find another innocent boy or girl to hurt. So man up and tell us who the fuck it is. You might just save another kid a whole lot of trauma.”
Trent’s gaze dropped to the floor, and he crossed his arms with his shoulders slumped. “It’s my mom’s boyfriend.”
I held up my hand without turning then motioned for Ink to join us. “Give me a name.”
Trent rubbed his hands up and down his arms, still looking at the ground. “Joseph Hill. He works over at Bart’s Garage.”
Ink nodded. “On it.”
I placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Don’t ever let anyone hurt you, you understand me? No matter who the fuck it is, you fight back. You always fight back. No mercy. No surrender.”
With that, I turned and walked out. This was why I avoided the crowd in the gym. Too many lost souls. Too much pain and too many problems. If I had my way, I’d fuck up every low-life scumbag who hurt children. Like I said, we weren’t saints, and we played house with cruel motherfuckers. But when it came to hurting children, I became a beast. If you fucked with the children on these streets, you fucked with me.
Out of the gym, I passed the outside courtyard that led to the bar. It was like our own little compound. The gym. The bar. And a few rooms upstairs from the bar, with a small living space and kitchen. Most of the guys had their own houses and families to go to at the end of the night. It was only Onyx, Dutch, Manic, Ink, and I who stayed here. As far as we were concerned, the club was our life. We didn’t need anything else.
It was almost the end of autumn, and the early winter chill could already be felt in the air. Dutch’s piss-poor attempt at gardening was already ruined, winter not even in full bloom yet.
The door to the bar swung open as I entered, Onyx waiting for me inside.
“She won’t eat.” He crossed his arms.
“What did you give her?”
Onyx rolled his eyes. “I gave her a fucking salad just like you said.”
“Did she say anything?”
“Nothing. I went in, took the sandwich she didn’t eat,
and placed the salad box on the bed. She didn’t even look up.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before leaning back against the wall, lighting a cigarette. I knew getting her to eat would probably be a challenge, but I didn’t come this far in life by cowering away from challenges—especially when it came to her. Turned out she had a little bit more fight in her than I anticipated, but I was okay with that. It made things…interesting, feeling both lust and anger when I looked at her. It was an explosive combination.
I blew out a cloud of smoke. “She needs to fucking eat.”
“The girl’s been kidnapped, Granite. I don’t blame her for not exactly having a fucking appetite.”
“As you’ve noticed, she can’t exactly afford not to eat.”
“Yeah. There’s not really reserves on her bones for a hunger strike.”
“Jesus.” Flipping the cigarette to the ground, I stomped on it on my way to the stairs. “I’ll deal with it. Take Manic and check in with our scouts. I want to know when the Pythons hear the news, and when to expect that goddamn phone call.”
Taking two stairs at a time, I already felt my blood simmer in my veins. Excitement knocked at my spine, knowing I was about to see her again. It was a bad fucking idea, judging by the way my cock twitched just thinking about her locked up in that room with nowhere to run. But fuck me if I didn’t like every second of it.
I unlocked the door and stormed in, finding her sitting against the opposite wall. “Why the fuck won’t you eat?”
She didn’t even blink.
I slammed the door shut. “I’m talking to you.”
No response. She just sat there leaning her head against the wall while staring at the window. Catatonic.
The salad Onyx brought her remained untouched on the bed, a half a bottle of water on the ground next to her. At least she drank something.
Something inside me stirred as I moved closer. The room started to smell like her—vanilla with a hint of honey. I recognized the scent. Sweet and seductive, just like her. I fucking loved it.
Every step I took echoed through the silence, my leather cut creaking as I moved. With my gaze pinned on her, I took a seat on the bed in front of her, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. My head tilted to the side as I scrutinized her.
Filthy blonde hair clung to her forehead. The purple welts on her face seemed deeper, almost grotesque against her ghostly skin. Dry blood crusted around her nose, blue circles framing her eyes. Frankly, she looked like shit, and if it wasn’t for the image of my knife stuck in the dead Python’s skull, it probably would have bothered me a little more than it did. I hated that she got hurt, but I loved that she was right here in front of me. Under my roof. At my mercy. Even as president of the Kings, her presence, her fear made me feel more powerful than I ever had before. It was exhilarating.
My gaze traveled down her neck, a few scratches and bruises scattered from her jaw down to her chest. But it was nothing compared to what her face looked like. It was time for Neon to do a little photoshoot.
“That bruise on your face has to hurt. Be a good girl and eat something, then I might consider giving you something for the pain.”
I rubbed my hands together, studying her. Nothing. Not even a goddamn eye-twitch.
“Come on, ballerina girl. You gotta be hungry. In pain?”
Nothing.
I shifted. “Alyxandria.”
Her eyes cut to mine at the mention of her name. The blue sapphires seemed as sad as the bruise on her face.
A smirk tugged at my lips. “You hate your name, don’t you? Is it because mommy calls you that all the time?”
Her gaze turned into a glare. Goddammit, if that look didn’t send a bolt of excitement all the way down my fucking spine. It gave me the urge to touch her, and I leaned forward, reaching out. My fingers came within inches of her face when she reacted, slapping my hand away.
“How the hell do you know so much about me?” She spat out the words through gritted teeth. Her fear was turning into anger. Good. To survive in my world, she needed to let the fight she hid so well come out. Plus, it fucked with my dick knowing she might have the balls to fight me.
I pulled back. “Like I told you, I know this town and its residents. Now, be a good girl and eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“By looking at you, it’s clear you don’t exactly have the reserves to go on a goddamn hunger strike.”
She bit her bottom lip, and I clenched my fists. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t.”
“Sounds like you do.” She pulled her legs up against her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees. “What do you want from me?”
I rubbed my hands together, glancing over my shoulder at the shut door. I turned back to face her. “You’ll figure it out soon enough.”
“Does it have something to do with my father?”
“You mean all those midnight visits we paid him?”
She sucked on her bottom lip, cheeks flushing.
I almost laughed as the skin on her neck turned red. “See,” I slipped off the bed, crouching closer in front of her, “I remember this young girl hiding by her bedroom window, watching us. Or rather, watching me. Question is, why?”
For a moment, the stone façade dropped from her face, her blue eyes alert yet afraid. But then her expression hardened again. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I think you do.”
A second passed with our eyes pinned on one another. The look on her face told me she knew exactly what the fuck I was talking about. But I was more than willing to play this game with her. “Something tells me you and I, we’re going to have a lot of fun here, ballerina girl.”
Her face remained stoic. “Somehow, I doubt that.”
I rubbed my fingers up and down my beard, my mind filled with the most entertaining thoughts. Her. Me. And one hell of a fight to see who would end up on top—pun intended.
“Okay, then.” I got up, grabbed the salad off the bed, and tossed the paper bag on the ground in front of her feet. “Eat. It’s a mommy-approved meal, so you don’t have to worry about all those extra calories.”
Feeling amused, I turned and started to walk out the room, but not before she called out after me, “Screw you, you son of a bitch.”
I stilled. I smiled.
I left.
8
Alyx
Tears stung my eyes, my jaw aching as I refused to let them loose. My newfound determination to not show weakness, to not give him the satisfaction of witnessing how he intimidated me, was exhausting. Even for just ten minutes, it managed to drain the little energy and courage I had. But I managed to keep my shit together until he closed the door behind him. Then I let go, and my fear slipped down my cheeks one tear at a time.
All those nights I stared at him from my window, he seemed like a beautiful rogue. But it turned out he was a savage beast.
Infatuation. It was a dangerous thing. My being here proved that. My infatuation with a man I didn’t know ended up being the worst mistake. The disappointment was almost as strong as the fear and the uncertainty of what he planned to do to me now.
Was I being held for ransom? Blackmail? Revenge?
The latter sent chills throughout my body.
I wiped at my nose then cringed as pain brought more tears to my eyes. Blood mixed with my tears as I wiped it with the back of my hand. God, I couldn’t imagine what I looked like. Judging by the pain, hideous came to mind.
As the seconds ticked by, my tears became more until I cried so hard it hurt. My tummy ached, my head pounded, and I pressed my legs harder against my chest. Funny how I had always felt alone in a house with two parents who never saw me for who I was. Now, while I sat here in this room alone with the kind of uncertainty and fear that could gnaw through bone, I would have welcomed the loneliness of living with my parents.
My eye caught the paper bag Granite had tossed by my feet. Who knew how long I had
been here, but even through the panic, my stomach burned with hunger. Luckily, hunger wasn’t something new to me. Curbing my appetite and moving past it without caving was something I had mastered years ago. But I had never been so happy about my talent to shut down my body’s need for food. Fuck human instinct. Fuck the human’s basic need to survive by giving the body what it needed. I didn’t want to eat so I could toss these assholes one huge “fuck you.” But I was curious as to what his definition was of a “mommy-approved” meal, so I reached for the bag and pulled out the plastic container inside.
I had to laugh. A fucking salad. It was exactly the kind of meal my mom would approve. How the hell did he know me so well? How did he know so much of my life, of my mom?
This meal. My stuff on the cabinet. It was like he had torn a chapter from my life and placed it right here, with him. Question was…why?
As I pushed the fork into a piece of cucumber, thinking that eating might be a good idea so I could keep my strength up, I couldn’t help but feel like a pig being fattened up only to be slaughtered. My stomach turned, the hunger pangs instantly gone as rage consumed me. Who the fuck did he think he was? Just because I stared at him from my goddamn window a few nights did not give him the right to kidnap me, to hold me here against my will.
For a second, I lost my shit, throwing the salad across the room. The bed and floors all the way to the door were scattered with lettuce, cucumber, and tomatoes.
A scream ripped out of my throat, coming from deep within, my soul letting go of anger with a shriek of pain. It didn’t even sound like me. Nothing about anything that was happening felt real. Just the pain. The fear. And now the anger. Those were the only things that didn’t feel surreal. Even him, my stranger in the dark, was no longer real. All those times I spent daydreaming about him, his motorcycle, and how we would whisk me off into the sunset, were nothing but proof of a naïve girl’s stupidity. We no longer lived in a world where anything was innocent. Not even fantasy and dreams of love were innocent anymore. Everything was corrupted. Everything was wrong.