Damnable Grace A Hades Hangmen Novel
Tillie Cole
Copyright © Tillie Cole 2017 All rights reserved
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Author’s Note
As with all of the Hades Hangmen novels, Damnable Grace (Hades Hangmen #5), contains religious practices and experiences that, although may be unfamiliar and unknown to many, are inspired by the beliefs and traditions of past, and existing sects and New Religious Movements. The character of Phebe in this novel, and her role as a ‘Sacred Sister’, was inspired by a true belief found in past and existing sects and New Religious Movements. The practice of ‘sexual recruitment’ is extremely controversial and disturbing. Please note that this novel also contains graphic scenes of sensitive and taboo practices, sexual abuse and excessive violence. It may involve some triggers for some readers. Can I please kindly request that your reviews, progress updates and edits be SPOILER FREE so that all readers can get the most from their reading experience. Many thanks and happy reading!
Dedication
To AK. I’ve been waiting to write your story for a long time.
Contents Page
Glossary Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty One Chapter Twenty Two Chapter Twenty Three Chapter Twenty Four Epilogue Bonus Chapter Acknowledgements Author Biography Playlist Follow Tillie
Glossary
(Not in alphabetical order)
The Order Terminology
The Order: Apocalyptic New Religious Movement. Beliefs based on selected Christian teachings, strongly believe the apocalypse is imminent. Previously led by Prophet David (declared himself to be a Prophet of God and a descendant of King David), the elders and the disciples. Succeeded by Prophet Cain (nephew of Prophet David). The members live together in a secluded commune; based on traditional and modest living, polygamy and unorthodox religious practices. Believe the ‘outside world’ is sinful and evil. Have no contact with non-members.
Commune: Property owned by The Order and controlled by Prophet Cain. Segregated living community. Policed by disciples and elders and stocked with weapons in case of an outside world attack. Men and women kept in separate areas of the commune. The Cursed kept away from all men (except the elders) in their own private quarters. Land protected by a large perimeter fence.
New Zion: New Commune of The Order. Created after the previous commune was destroyed in the battle against The Hades Hangmen.
The Order’s Elders (Original Commune): Comprises four men: Gabriel (deceased), Moses (Deceased), Noah (deceased), Jacob (deceased), Charged with the day-to-day running of the commune. Second in Command to Prophet David (deceased). Responsible for schooling the Cursed.
New Zion Council Elders: Men of elevated status in New Zion. Appointed by Prophet Cain.
Prophet’s Hand: Position held by Brother Judah (deceased). Second in command to Prophet Cain. Shares in the running of New Zion and any religious, political or military decisions concerning The Order.
Disciple Guards: Male members of The Order. Tasked with the protection of the commune lands and the members of The Order.
Lord’s Sharing: Ritual sexual act performed between male and female members of The Order. Believed to help the male get steadily closer to the Lord. Performed in mass ceremonies. Narcotics often used for a transcendental experience. Females are forbidden from experiencing pleasure as punishment for carrying the original sin of Eve and must perform the act when required as part of their sisterly duties.
Awakening: Rite of Passage in The Order. On a girl’s eighth birthday, she is to be sexually ‘awakened’ by a commune member or, on special occasions, an Elder.
Sacred Circle: Religious practice exploring the notion of ‘free love’. Sexual intercourse and behavior with many partners in a public setting.
Sacred Sister: A chosen woman of The Order, tasked with leaving the commune to spread The Order’s message by sexual means.
The Cursed: Women/Girls in The Order deemed too naturally beautiful and inherently sinful. Live separately from the rest of commune. Seen as too tempting to men. The Cursed are believed to be significantly more likely to sway men from the righteous path.
Original Sin: Augustine Christian doctrine that says mankind is born sinful and has an innate urge to disobey God. Original Sin is the result of Adam and Eve’s disobedience of God when they ate the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden. In The Order’s doctrines (created by Prophet David), Eve is blamed for tempting Adam to sin, thus sisters of The Order are seen as born seductresses and temptresses and must therefore obey men.
Sheol: Old Testament word meaning ‘the pit’ or ‘the grave’ or ‘the Underworld’. Place of the dead.
Glossolalia: Incomprehensible speech displayed by religious believers during an episode of religious ecstasy. Embracing the Holy Spirit.
Diaspora: The dispersion of people from their original homeland.
Hill of Perdition: Hill on the outskirts of the commune. Used for seclusions of New Zion’s inhabitants and for punishments.
Devil’s Men: Reference to the Hades Hangmen MC.
Prophet’s Consort: Female chosen by Prophet Cain to aid him sexually. Elevated status in New Zion.
Prophet’s Head Consort: Appointed by Prophet Cain. Elevated status in New Zion. Closest consort to the prophet. Sexual partner of choice.
Celestial Meditation: The act of spiritual sexual intercourse. Believed in and practiced by members of The Order. Reaching a closer connection to God through sexual release.
Repatriation: To bring back a person to his or her country or land. The Repatriation of The Order involves bringing back all the members of the faith to New Zion from foreign communes.
First Touch: The first act of sexual intercourse with a virginal female.
Hades Hangmen Terminology
Hades Hangmen: One-percenter Outlaw MC. Founded in Austin, Texas, 1969.
Hades: Lord of the Underworld in Greek mythology.
Mother Chapter: First branch of the club. Founding location.
One-percenter: The American Motorbike Association (AMA) were once rumored to have said that 99% of bikers were law-abiding citizens. Bikers who do not abide by AMA rules name themselves ‘onepercenters’ (the remaining non law-abiding 1%). The vast majority of ‘one-percenters’ belong to Outlaw MC’s.
Cut: Leather vest worn by outlaw bikers. Adorned with patches and artwork displaying the club’s unique colors.
Patched in: When a new member is approved for full membership.
Church: Club meetings for full patch members. Led by President of the club.
Old Lady: Woman with wife status. Protected by her partner. Status held to be sacrosanct by club members.
Club Slut: A woman who comes to the clubhouse to engage in casual sexual acts with the club members.
Bitch: Woman in Biker culture. Term of endearment.
Gone/Going to Hades: Slang. Referring to the dying/dead.
Meeting/Gone/Going to the Boatman: Slang. Dying/dead. Referring to ‘Charon’ in Greek mythology. Charon was the ferryman of the dead, an underworld daimon (Spirit). Transported departed souls to Hades. The fee for the crossing over the rivers Styx and Acheron to Hades were coins placed on either the dead’s eyes or mouth at burial. Those who did not pay the fee were left to wander the shores of Styx for one hundred years.
Snow: Cocaine.
Ice: Crystal Meth.
Smack: Heroin
The Organizational Structure of Hades Hangmen
President (Prez): Leader of the club. Holder of the Gavel, which is symbolic of the absolute power that the President wields. The Gavel is used to keep order in Church. The word of the President is law within the club. He takes advice from senior club members. No one challenges the decisions of the President.
Vice President (VP): Second-in-Command. Executes the orders of the President. Principal communicator with other chapters of the club. Assumes all responsibilities and duties of the President in his absence.
Road Captain: Responsible for all club runs. Researches, plans and organizes club runs and ride outs. Ranking club officer, answering only to President or VP.
Sergeant-at-Arms: Responsible for club security, policing and keeping order at club events. Reports unseemly behavior to President and VP. Responsible for the safety and protection of the club, its members and its Prospects.
Treasurer: Keeps records of all income and expenses. Keeps records of all club patches and colors issued and taken away.
Secretary: Responsible for making and keeping all club records. Must notify members of emergency meetings.
Prospect: Probationary member of the MC. Goes on runs, but banned from attending Church.
Prologue
AK
Plano, Texas Eleven years ago . . .
“I’m gonna be a Marine!” I raced into the kitchen. Devin was sitting by the table, working on the engine of his bike. He looked up. His face was pitted with grease. “What?” he exclaimed, brow furrowed. I stood, catching the breath I’d lost running home. I threw off my leather jacket and tossed it on the back of a chair. “I’ve just enlisted.” I smiled, doing a totally shitty job of keeping the excitement from my voice. “Just like you. I’ve joined the Corps.” Devin blinked at me, but said fuck all. My excitement began to wane. “Dev—” He dropped the engine onto the tabletop with a resounding thud. He got to his feet and ran his hand down his face. “X, what the fuck have you done?” I shook my head in confusion. “What? What’s wrong?” My brother sighed and looked out the kitchen window. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” He took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly as if trying to calm himself down. “This ain’t the life I wanted for you. You’re my fucking little brother, and you got more brains in that stupid head of yours than I ever had. I was banking on you going to college or some shit. Not the fucking Corps.” “I don’t wanna go to college, Dev. I wanna be over there, fighting, too. I wanna fight beside you.” Dev was still facing the window, but I caught his wince. “Dev . . .” I tried again, but I couldn’t think of what else to say. My brother was acting weird. “You got no idea what it’s like out there, X.” Finally he turned to me, a fucking haunted look on his face, each word pronounced like a gunshot. “You got no fucking idea.” Unable to take him looking so damn lost, I walked over and put my hand on his tense arm. “I wanna fight, Dev. I . . .” I laughed, knowing I was about to sound real pathetic. “I wanna fight for our country, like you. I . . . I fucking wanna be like you, Dev. Always have.” Devin’s eyes shone. Sighing, he grabbed me by the back of my neck and pulled me into his big chest. I struggled to breathe as he hugged me tight. “When do you report?” Devin’s voice was rough and raw, as if he could barely force the words from his mouth. “In eight weeks.” “Fuck, kid,” he said. “What MOS?” “Scout Sniper.” I shrugged. “You know I can shoot real good.” Devin tensed, then forced himself to relax. It must have been a couple of minutes before he let me go. I was eighteen; Dev was twenty-six. He’d joined the Corps when he was my age, and as soon as he could, he’d gotten us the fuck out of our shithole existence with our drunk parents and had given us a better life. He’d saved us. Pulled us outta the damn gutter. He was my motherfucking hero. Devin pulled back and kissed my forehead. I was an inch or two taller than him now and still growing, but I always felt smaller around Dev. He just had that kinda larger-than-life attitude, or at least he used to. After the last two tours he’d changed some—the last one, to Iraq, being the worst. I knew it was ’cause he missed home. But if I ended up stationed near him, he wouldn’t have to be alone no more. True brothers in arms. “I wanted better for you, kid,” he announced. I looked him straight in the eye.
“Fighting alongside you, for our country and freedom? That’s as good as it goddamn gets,” I said quietly. Dev’s face didn’t change. I didn’t see any happiness in it. I just saw disappointment. “I meant like a doctor or lawyer or some shit, X.” He tapped my head. “Something where you used this.” “Snipers are the fucking nuts, Dev. The recruitment officer even agreed. Smart, patient, focused. It takes a special kind of someone to be a sniper. Takes skills not everyone has.” My chest swelled. “I can be that fucking someone.” I swallowed back the lump that suddenly clogged my throat. “I can be good at this . . . like you. A good Marine.” Dev’s shoulders sagged, and a small wash of pride settled on his expression. “I know you can, kid,” he said thickly. “I ain’t got no worries about that, never have done. I just . . . I just . . .” “We can fight together, and when we’re on leave, we can come home, drink beers, work on our Harleys and just fucking ride until we have to leave again. That’s my damn American dream, right there,” I smiled a huge smile. “Imagine that, Dev. That’s gonna be our life.” I looked him dead in the eye. “Ain’t nothing better to me than family, defending our country and fucking riding the open road. It’s what I want. For real.” Dev looked as though he wasn’t gonna agree, like he was still gonna say some shit to try and dissuade me, but then a voice came from the doorway. “What do you want for real, Xavier?” I turned to see Tina, my sister-in-law, watching me and my brother, curiosity written on her face. Before I could answer, Dev slung his arm around my neck and said, “This little fucker’s just signed up to the Corps. Scout Sniper.” Tina’s eyes widened, and I saw a mixture of pride and worry cloud her blue eyes. “Xavier? Is this true?” “Yes, ma’am.” Her hand flew to her mouth, and she rushed forward and pulled me into a hug. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispered. She stepped back. “So now I have two of you to worry about when you’re away. Great!” I play-punched Devin on the shoulder. “I’ll look after him, I promise,” I said and laughed when my brother rolled his eyes. Tina laughed too, but I saw her lingering concern. She and Devin had been together since they were fifteen. Tina always said I was her brother too; that’s how she viewed me. But she was more than a sister. To me, she was the only mother I’d ever really had. She’d raised me, cared for me when I was sick and helped me with school. When Dev was away on a tour, it was just her and me. Well, her, me, and . . . “Uncle X!” Little feet pattered down the hallway, and my four-year-old nephew came barreling through the door. “Zane! Get the fuck here, kid!” He plowed into my legs, and I picked him up. “Guess what?” I said as he laid his head on my shoulder. He lifted his head and stared at me. “I’m gonna be a soldier, just like your dad.” His mouth dropped open dramatically. “Wow! A real life a solider? Just like my daddy?” “Yeah.” “Cool!” “Well,” Devin said from beside us. “Looks like we better go buy some steaks. Not every day your little brother becomes a fucking man.” “A fucking man!” Zane repeated loudly. I couldn’t help but laugh at his cute face. I loved this kid. He was my damn shadow, never leaving me alone. A sudden pang hit my stomach. I’d miss all my family when I went on tour, but none like this little fucker. Best goddamn thing in my life.
Tina took Zane from my arms and tapped his nose. “No cussing, little man. Only grown men get to do that.” Zane looked like he wanted to argue, but Tina gave him her famous stare that told all us Deyes men to shut the fuck up or face her wrath. Zane huffed, but smirked at me when I threw him a covert wink. I could see the future now. Zane was just like me and Dev. A fucking Deyes man through and through. He’d no doubt follow us into the Corps. We’d all serve the flag, grow old, and that would be that. Devin’s hand landed on my shoulder. “Go get your hog, kid. We’ll go for a ride, then barbeque, then we’ll make you the best sniper to ever fight for the red, white and blue.” So that’s what we did. And it was the best fucking day of my life.
Chapter One
AK
Hades Hangmen Compound Austin, Texas Present Day . . .
I undid the buttons of my jacket and tried to suck in some fucking air through the thick heat. The gate slammed shut behind us. I reached up and wiped the sand and grit from my face. My entire body felt as though it were made of it. I could barely make my legs move, I was so fucking exhausted. I glanced down at my hand and saw the fucker shaking. “You good?” Bones asked. I looked at my spotter and closest friend. His face was white too, but I could tell he, like me, was manning the fuck up. A weird mix of adrenaline and guilt ripped through me when I thought back to the last two days. The sound of my bullets releasing from my barrel and slicing through the fuckers’ skulls. “Direct hit!” sounding from Bones beside me as I kept my eyes on my targets. “Three,” Bones said, his gangly arms reaching up to take off his helmet. I nodded in acknowledgment, but didn’t say shit. Wasn’t sure my mouth would work anyhow. Fucking three. Each one a direct hit. Then I saw him, coming from his tent. He rushed toward me. “X!” he called. I stopped dead, my feet crunching the sand. Bones’s hand came down on my shoulder. “See you later, yeah? Get some sleep.” “Yeah,” I replied. Bones walked away, and I looked up at my brother. “I heard on the radio.” Devin put his hand on my head before lowering it to my shoulder. My hair was gone now. Shaved. Jarhead through and through. “You okay?” “Yeah,” I said, then laughed. I had no fucking idea why I was laughing. “I’m good.” I looked around us—the tents, the Marines milling about, the trucks being loaded and unloaded. It was fucking weird—out there versus in here. Out of the gate and inside, two completely different worlds. “Three.” I felt Devin’s hand fall away from me. “I got three of the fuckers.” I laughed again and felt a nervous smile pull on my face. But my heart was pounding. And my hand wouldn’t stop fucking shaking. Devin put his arm around my shoulder and led me from the entrance of the base. “Come on, X. You need a drink.” I let Devin lead me to his tent. But even as he sat me down and handed me a whiskey, I didn’t let go of my gun. I could see him watching me with worry, but I didn’t care. I’d just killed three people. My first ever confirmed kills. When my cup was empty, Devin filled it back up. “It gets easier.” He sat on the edge of his cot, right in front of me. I met his eyes. “From this moment on, it becomes second nature and don’t bother you as much. I promise.” I took a deep breath and let his words sink in, hoping he was right . . .
The smell of bacon frying ripped me from my dream. My heart beat like crazy as I recalled that day. My hands shook as if I were back there in the dry heat. On that damn base . . . with Dev. Calm the fuck down, I told myself, trying to push the memory from my head.
It took five minutes for it to fade. My eyelids felt like ton weights as I cracked them open and winced at the sun streaming through my window. I groaned and grabbed my head when the effects of last night’s tequila slammed into my cranium, yelling a huge fucking hello, remember me? “Shit,” I growled as I kicked my legs over the side of my bed and waited for the room to stop tilting to the side. Once the rocking chair in the corner had stopped spinning in circles, I pushed to my feet and stretched out my stiff neck. Something on my chest pulled tight. I looked down; I had fucking claw marks stretching from my neck to my groin. I’d slept in my jeans, clearly too fucking wasted to undress. What the fuck had happened? I slammed into the bathroom and closed my eyes as I pissed about a quart of tequila from my system. I moved to the sink and drenched my face with cold water, then swilled my mouth with mouthwash so it didn’t taste like something had fucking climbed inside and died. I pushed out of the door and followed the smell of bacon. Ash stood at the stove, already dressed in jeans and his Hangmen shirt. A fucking miniFlame in my home. Tattoos, piercings, and those black-as-hell eyes. He looked up as I entered the kitchen. The little fucker had the audacity to smirk at me. I gave him the finger and slumped down at the table. Two glasses landed in front of me: a glass of orange juice and a shot of tequila. I groaned as I knocked back the Patrón, then downed the OJ until the glass was done. “Thanks, kid,” I said, then heard the little shit laughing. “How the hell are you not this hungover, you little fuck? Last I remember, you and Slash were doing shots of Jameson with Vike.” He shrugged. “I was. Just don’t really get hangovers.” “I hate you,” I swung a lazy punch to the side, but the fucker just moved away. I ran a hand over my eyes. The smell of food hit my nostrils, and I dropped my hand to see a full breakfast before me. My stomach growled in appreciation. Ash was still smirking at me, so I nodded and said, “Fine. You’re forgiven.” “For what? Being sixteen and able to hold my liquor better than you, old man?” I stuffed my mouth with greasy eggs and bacon and swallowed. “I’ll give you a pass. Only because right now it’d take too much outta me to knock you the fuck out.” I hoovered my food then sat back, running my hand over my stomach. I winced when my fingers passed over the fresh scratches on my abs. “You know what happened here?” Ash lowered his fork and wiggled his eyebrows. “Sure do.” He sat back and pretended to think. “She was about five foot nothing, bright-blue hair, and had the biggest tits you’d ever seen.” I racked my brain trying to remember the club slut, but I could only grab hold of flashes of me fucking her over my bed in the clubhouse . . . and of her ripping the shit out of my chest when I flipped her over and started again. That and her fake-ass whining. Club sluts. Whores should learn to just lie back and be good little cum deposits without all the fucking high-pitched mewling. “Fuck,” I groaned. Ash went quiet, then, looking up at me through his black hair, asked, “You remember what I talked to you about last night?” I tried to think. Eventually, I gave up and shook my head. “Sorry, kid. Gonna need you to refresh my memory.” Ash ducked his head, and suddenly the kid he’d been when we found him in that fucking hellhole in West Virginia returned. Lil’ Ash was doing real good of late. The little shit was funny. He was trustworthy. He fitted in with the club. He loved it with the Hangmen, did everything he could to stay,
desperate to please, like he thought at any minute we’d tell him to fuck off. We wouldn’t. He was one of us now. Still, I was sure Ash never let himself believe it. Plus, the kid loved his brother. And Flame . . . well, Flame was fucking Flame. But I knew that brother better than anyone. He loved Ash, just had fuck-all capability of showing or telling him so. “I . . . I told you I was interested in the Marines. Scout Sniper MOS, like you.” I didn’t expect his words. So I didn’t expect the fucking iron bar that slammed into my stomach when he spoke them. I froze, staring at Ash, his head down, hands wringing together on the tabletop in nerves. “You wanna join the Corps?” My throat was clogged, and it was a damn battle to get my sentence out. “You’re only sixteen.” “I . . . I know, but you’ve been teaching me to shoot for months now, and you said it yourself: I’m good.” “You are good, fucking amazing, in fact, but you’re still in school.” Ash nodded, but I could see he was upset at my reaction. I leaned forward. “You ain’t liking school?” “It’s all right.” I sighed, working to keep my shit together. This conversation was too familiar. My blood turned to ice in my veins, and I felt as if two massive hands were choking me the fuck out. “Ash,” I said quietly, watching his face fall. “Look at me.” He did what I said. In all the months he’d lived with me, the kid had never done a thing wrong. Always did as I said. In that respect he’d make a fucking awesome Marine—obedient, disciplined. But I wasn’t about to let that happen on my watch. Not a fucking a chance. “You okay?” Ash said. I shifted in my seat. “You’re smart, kid. Clever. But you’re still young. I know you don’t think so, or at least don’t feel it. Fuck, after what you’ve been through, I get it. You ain’t a normal teenager. Ain’t obsessed with chasing pussy and whatever the fuck other sixteen-year-olds do. But I ain’t signing off on you joining the Corps early. Ain’t happening.” Ash looked out the window. I continued, “And I’m sure as shit that Flame ain’t gonna let you join up either.” Ash’s head whipped around to me, and a surprised look formed on his face. “Our brother wouldn’t handle you leaving, so how about we give him no reason to freak out on us, yeah?” “Flame?” Ash said in confusion. “I . . .” His shoulders sagged. “I ain’t all that sure he’d mind.” And there it was. The reason Ash was looking to me for Marine career advice. I took Ash’s half-full cup of coffee and downed the hot liquid. “I get he don’t speak much to you. I get that he spends most of his time with Madds. But I’m telling you now, that psycho fucker loves you more than he’ll ever be able to say. Right?” Ash swallowed, and fuck if I didn’t see his eyes starting to water up. “You think?” I put my hand on his shoulder. “You’re one of the only people he allows near him. There’s Madds, of course, because she’s his bitch and got through to him when no other fucker could. There’s me and Vike. That history goes way back—we’ve seen and been through a lot of shit together.” I squeezed his shoulder harder. “Then there’s you.” Ash sucked in a sharp breath and exhaled slowly. “He’s a Hangman through and through, would do anything for his brothers, but he’s never let the rest of them in like he has us.” I gestured out the window, to our small cluster of cabins deep in the Hangmen compound’s land. “This, right here, is what keeps him from breaking apart. And believe it or not, you’re a huge part of that now too.” The vise around my throat eased when I saw a flicker of a smile hit the kid’s pierced lips. “Right now, kid, you’re the fourth member of our fucked-up little trio.” I smiled. “And I ain’t gonna cope with nuclear Flame when we tell him I signed off on your enlistment. I’m kind of a fan of my cock, and I’d prefer to keep it far away from your brother’s serrated knife and more in tight, wet pussies.”
Ash laughed, and I smiled in relief, pushing my empty dish in his direction. “Now, get to it. These dishes ain’t gonna clean themselves.” Ash got up from the table, but just as he’d gathered the dishes in his hands, I stopped him by the elbow. “I thought you liked working on bikes anyway? You spend hours working with Flame on his Harley or in the shop with Tank. Tank says you’re the shit, could be the best damn mechanic we got. You’re in the Hangmen, brother; you’re set for life.” “I like bikes,” he said after a few silent moments. “I really like them, actually. They make sense to me.” “Then stick with them, yeah? And once you’re a fully patched-in member of the club, you’ll get a cut of the Hangmen profits too. You’ll be fucking golden, kid.” He clearly liked the idea of getting patched in, because he beamed with pride. “Now, get back to those dishes,” I said. “Until you’re patched in, you gotta do the grunt work.” I shrugged. “Just the way it is.” “Yes, sir,” the shitbag said, knowing I hated his young ass making me feel old. Fucking sir. I reached behind me to the cabinet, took out two Advil and knocked them back dry. Just as I went to stand to shower and shit, the front door slammed open, and a fucking ginger beast strode in. “Mornin’, cum-sluts! It’s a beautiful fuckin’ day!” I groaned loudly as Viking’s godawful voice sliced through my skull. I looked up at him smiling at me like an ugly giant. He sniffed the air. In a flash, he was storming to the stove and checking out the food that was left over. “I’m starting to think I should get me a fucking live-in rent boy too. He cooks, cleans . . . fuck!” He turned to Ash, who was trying his best to ignore our asshole of a brother. “You suck cock too?” I opened my mouth to tell him to shut the hell up, but Ash said, “Even if I did, I wouldn’t be sucking yours. Heard it’s no bigger than an inch.” Vike’s mouth dropped open, before he threw his head back and dove forward to put Ash in a tight headlock. “Fucking little shit!” he shouted, gracing us all with his thunderous, booming laugh. Ash pushed him off. “You can have the food. It’s what’s left over anyhow.” Vike scooped up the food, brought it to the table and sank down into a seat. He stuffed the food into his mouth like a damn wild animal. His eyes fell to my chest, and smiling through a mouthful of eggs, he winked at my scratches. Fuck. My. Life. Ash brought him a coffee, and Vike drained it in one go, tapping the mug on the table for more. “You get the message from Styx?” Vike said. “No. Just got up.” I looked around for my cell, but fuck knew where it was. “Gotta be at church in twenty. Tanner finally got us a lead.” My pulse started slamming in my neck as my heart tried to cope with the sudden rush of adrenaline. “Thought you’d like that.” “He’s found her?” Phebe. A picture of the redhead rushed to my mind. Not that I hadn’t been thinking about the bitch non-stop since we’d found out she was missing. “No idea.” Vike leaned forward, running his hand down his beard. “But I’m getting real fucking bored lately of standard runs and all the talk of Prez’s damn wedding. Who gives a shit about that? I want Klan scum to hunt.” My fingers twitched on the tabletop at the thought of tracking Phebe down, of taking out the fucker who had her. Too many nights I’d stayed awake, imagining cutting that fucker apart. Slitting his stomach open and watching as his blood and guts spilled at my feet. And I’d smile. I’d smile through it all with Phebe by my side, watching the asshole die a slow and painful death. It had taken Tanner longer than he’d thought to get any kind of shit on this Meister dick. And I was restless. I agreed with Vike. Things had been too quiet. I may have been out of the Marines, but I still
needed the fucking rush of the fight, of the kill, in my life. With the Hangmen that shit came in spades. And it looked like it was about to kick off again. Fuckin’ A. “I’ll get dressed.” I got up and threw on my shirt, cut and boots. We were out of my cabin in minutes, Ash behind us. If it was church, the prospect would be pouring drinks and whatever the fuck else Styx told him to do. I leaned against my cabin and lit up a smoke as Vike hammered on Flame’s door. “Get the fuck out, Flame! Gotta go!” Through the window of Flame’s cabin, I saw Flame head to the door, Maddie rushing behind him. He turned back to her, and the closest thing Flame had to a smile spread across his face, then he leaned down and kissed his bitch. My chest tightened. My smoke burned away, untouched, in my hand. I couldn’t believe Flame had something like that. “AK!” Vike’s voice cut through my thoughts. “You ready?” I nodded, seeing Flame walk outta his door. Flame flicked his chin at me, then his eyes tracked around the yard. I knew who he was looking for—he did this every day. Only I noticed. I was the only one trained to not miss a thing. When he saw Lil’ Ash, Flame’s shoulders relaxed. Ash waved his hand. “Hey, Flame.” “You good?” Flame asked curtly, running his gaze over every inch of his brother. “Yeah,” Ash said. He was smiling a little. I knew he had recognized Flame’s attempt at affection. I winked at Ash to confirm that what he thought was true. Maddie’s small frame appeared in the doorway. “Viking, AK.” Flame instinctively moved toward her, like they were fucking magnets or some shit. “Madds,” I said. Vike smiled. “Mornin’, sugar tits.” Flame’s lip curled at our brash brother, but it was Vike. Weren’t no one stopping that car crash. “Hello, Asher,” Maddie said to Ash. She nudged Flame’s arm, her eyes urging him to do something. Flame’s jaw clenched, then, without looking at Ash, he said, “You’re comin’ to dinner tonight.” Maddie shook her head in exasperation. She wasn’t pissed at the possessiveness. She knew he wasn’t being a dick, he was just . . . fuck, he was just being Flame. “Ash, what Flame was trying to ask was would you like to have dinner with us tonight? I will cook something special.” Ash looked to me, and I flicked my chin, urging him to accept. “Yeah. Thanks. I’d love to,” Ash replied, and Maddie smiled at him so big. Flame backed her into the house. He came back a couple of minutes later and stood beside me. “You good?” I asked. Flame nodded without meeting my eyes. We did this every day, hell, several times a day. You good? was more than just a passing question. It was Flame telling me that his head wasn’t full of fucked-up shit. Shit from his past. “Good.” I threw my smoke to the ground and pushed off the wall. I led the way up the hill to the compound. To church. Where Tanner better have some fucking good news. ’Cause I was motherfucking itching to hunt.
*****
“Well?” Ky asked. Tanner ran his hand over his head. The brother hadn’t attended one of our cookouts or slutfests in weeks. Not that he ever entertained himself with sluts—still too hard for his spic pussy down in Mexico. He’d been busy trying to track down Meister. Unlike most of the white-power shit Tanner and Tank grew up with, this Meister was untraceable and off the grid. As much of a computer whizz kid as Tanner was, Meister was proving to be one slippery fucking snake to pin down. “Gotta be honest, I didn’t think I was anywhere close to finding anything on this prick.” Tanner nodded toward Tank. “We knew of him, of course. I knew he had dealings with my father and uncle, just never met him myself. He’s Aryan Brotherhood, but works closely with the Klan. And there’s nothing on him. No email traces, no invoices, no texts. Nothing.” I gritted my teeth and glanced at Styx, who was listening closely. Ky wasn’t originally gonna tell the prez about the plan to get Phebe, because of his fucking wedding, but that didn’t last long. Styx knew something was up with his VP. He read him like I read Flame and Vike. So Ky fessed up, and Styx was all for the plan. He’d had to push his wedding back by a month anyhow to get the pastor Mae wanted to conduct the ceremony, so he had time to kill. “But you found something?” Ky translated as Styx signed. Tanner sighed, the black circles around his eyes showing how hard the brother had been working. “I got something.” He shook his head, and my blood ran cold. I knew whatever he had found wasn’t good. Tanner opened the file in front of him and threw a photograph toward the prez. Styx looked at it, then gave it to Ky. “Some middle-of-nowhere ghost town?” Ky passed the picture around. Vike handed it to me, and I studied it. It was an aerial shot, and the picture was grainy, but from what I could make out, it was just a huge piece of land scattered with decrepit old buildings. I passed the picture along. “Fucker owns this?” Tanner faced me. “Yeah, or at least his father did. He’s dead now, but the deeds are still in his father’s name. Been in the family for decades. Took me a while to trace it.” He shook his head. “Meister is notorious among the Klan. Right, Tank?” “Yeah,” Tank agreed. “Never met him either, but we’d all heard of him. Prick has been mobilizing for years for the race war they think is coming. Real serious, Oklahoma-City-bomb shit. From what we’ve heard, the guy has a one-track mind when it comes to advancing the white race. You think Hitler was fucked up? Well, imagine if he had a kid who was one built motherfucker, with a fucking carbon copy of his psycho mind; and you’ve got Meister. Fucker ain’t even German. Just wishes he was, spouting German phrases around like he was born and bred in Berlin. Delusional asshole.” “This ain’t gonna be easy,” Tanner finished, looking at me, Vike, Flame, Hush and Cowboy. It was the five of us who had agreed to go looking for Phebe. Hush and Cowboy nodded at me to let me know they were still in. “So he’s in this ghost town?” Ky asked, translating Styx’s sign language again. “If so, we’ll all just go in and get him, make the fucker talk and tell us where he’s got Phebe.” Tanner sat forward. “He ain’t just living in the ghost town or hiding out. That’s where he has his enterprise.” “Enterprise?” Ky echoed. It was his own question this time. Tanner nodded. “From what I can tell, it’s a fucking brothel. Members of the Aryan Brotherhood, Klan, or Klan sympathizers, can go there for a night or a few days at a time.” Tank shifted uncomfortably next to him. “Ain’t sure, but I’m thinking it ain’t just getting your dick sucked and fucked. It’ll be real fucked-up shit. If Meister’s reputation is anything to go by, we would be walking into an organized, armed hellhole.” Tanner’s eyes darkened. “I get the Klan has a reputation for being full of backward rednecks. I ain’t gonna
lie—growing up, most of my father’s cronies were that way. Thick as fuck and couldn’t do shit without screwing it up. Skinheads, lower-ranked soldiers, you know?” “But there were some members that weren’t,” Tank continued. He cast an embarrassed glance at Tanner. “We weren’t, for starters.” Tanner nodded. “It’s not the norm, but some of us were good. Smart, strong fighters, or just outright fucking psychos. The skinheads and rednecks are the foot soldiers. The likes of us, the likes of Meister, are the fucking SS. The planners, leaders, the generals—the ones who believe in the cause so much that they’re fucking lethal with what they’ll do, what they’re capable of. Meister is true Aryan Brotherhood; he’s preparing for war. He’s the real fucking deal.” “And now he’s in our neck of the woods to stir up shit?” I asked. Tanner nodded. “Comes from northern Texas. Never moved our way before. But the Klan are building day by day, joining forces with other white supremacist gangs—like the Brotherhood—and with the shit that’s on the news twenty-four-seven, blacks and whites at each other’s throats, he’s moved to the headquarters.” The brother’s jaw clenched. “To my father and uncle, who’ll be protecting him from being found out by the feds.” He sighed and ran his hand down his face. “From what I can figure out, this ghosttown brothel of his has only existed in the last year or so. He’s looking to fund something.” “They ain’t dealing guns?” Cowboy drawled. “I thought that’s what Rider said the contract with the cult was for?” “Rider was sure it was guns. At least it was when he was dealing with the Klan—it was all about arms. The Klan was selling them on and taking a cut.” “His fucking twin,” Hush spat. “He changed the arrangement, didn’t he? When Rider was locked up in cult prison?” “Think so,” Tanner said after a few seconds of silence. “Then what the fuck are they dealing? What was Judah giving them if not Israeli guns?” “Women,” Tanner replied. “Women from the cult, I think. That ain’t one hundred percent. But it’s the only link I can make.” “Women?” Ky said. Suddenly Styx sat straighter. Ky’s fist ground on the table, and Flame had started twitching beside me. The three brothers who had cult bitches were quickly realizing that it could have been their old ladies had they not got out. “Making them whores?” Cowboy asked. “That’s what I’d guess,” Tanner said. “That aerial shot is all I could get, and that’s from years ago. Ain’t no new pictures. No idea how full the town gets or how busy. Has a no-fly-zone code appointed to it, no doubt a deal from my old man. No idea on the number of women there or what they have them doing. Took me weeks just to get this info.” “He has Phebe there as a whore?” Ky snarled. “Fuck!” He picked up his glass and threw it against the wall. It shattered into a million pieces. “She was one before.” I tensed as a voice spoke from the bottom of the table. I turned to see who had spoken—Smiler. The normally silent brother looked around at us all. “Speak,” I ordered. Smiler didn’t flinch at my cold command. “I was talking to Rider.” The brother didn’t even give a shit that the rest of us couldn’t believe he still talked to the ex-prophet. “He told me some about the cult setup.” He looked at Ky, then me, and said, “About Phebe.” Ky stayed silent. By his clenched jaw, I realized he already knew whatever Smiler was gonna say. “Most of her life she was a whore for the cult. Would go out into the outside world and entice men back to the commune by fucking them. Once they were there they joined, of course. All the free pussy they wanted, any age pussy they wanted. He said Lilah’s sister was the main commune whore, the head
honcho. All these sluts believed they were doing ‘God’s work’ or some shit. The old prophet started the practice years ago when he wanted to expand.” My stomach turned. My fingers had curled into a tight fist. I felt my blood boil, fucking murderous venom sailing through me. I thought of Phebe, thought of that fucking red hair and face of freckles. Thought of her fucking man after man, those damn blue eyes that had stared at me looking at them, luring them the fuck in. It made me wanna slit some throats. It made me wanna kill. “Fuck. So Judah had been selling Meister the cult prostitutes for his brothel?” Hush said. “That’s why Meister stayed at the cult sometimes. He’ll have been choosing his whores.” “Shit. And I thought we were fucked up,” Vike exclaimed. “So what’s the plan?” I asked Styx. He met my eyes, but before he could sign, Tanner spoke. “It ain’t as simple as us storming in and taking these cunts out. They’ll have top-quality guns and militarized soldiers. This ain’t no redneck sex ring. If this is Meister, this is more. Much fucking more.” “So?” I asked. “So we need a plan,” Tank said. “Then let’s get a fucking plan!” Ky shouted. Styx whistled for the prospects to come in. Lil’ Ash and Slash entered the room, and Ky flicked his chin. “We need food, liquor, and keep that shit coming. We’re gonna be here a while.” Lil’ Ash and Slash left. Then we got down to planning. Trying to figure out how the fuck to get into this ghost-town whorehouse. And all the time, all I could see in my head was red. Red for blood, red for the mist that had descended over my eyes. And above it all, I saw the longest red hair. Long red hair and pale skin tied to a motherfucking tree. Freckles. Blue eyes. Phebe. Cult bitch turned Meister’s whore.
Chapter Two
Phebe
My arms and legs ached as I tried to turn over on the bed. I was sweating, so hot that when I forced my mouth to open, I gasped for air. I moved my tongue, but it barely shifted in my dry mouth. I was thirsty. So thirsty. I breathed through my nose, waiting for the pain in my aching muscles to ebb. When it did, I forced my eyes to open. I flinched at the light coming in from between the faded curtains covering the tiny high window, trying vainly to blink away the brightness. My head thumped and my stomach growled. But I forced myself to sit up. I wanted to cry out as my muscles protested the movement. I glanced down at my naked limbs, fighting back nausea when I saw the blood gathered on the dirty sheets between my legs. Flashes of last night pushed through the thick fog that always seemed to be there in my mind. Meister pinning me down to the bed. Covering me with his huge muscled body, hurting me. Injecting me with the sweet potion that took away all my fears and hurt. I liked Meister’s potion. I needed it. Then I saw him gripping my arms as he smashed his mouth against mine, biting my lips and drawing blood from the flesh. He lapped at the hot liquid. I remembered his hands forcing my legs apart. And I remembered his fingers finding my core and thrusting roughly inside. One finger, two, and then more. More until I could no longer hold back my scream. And then I heard his laugh, his deep appreciation for my pain. Before his hand wrapped around my neck as his entire fist slipped from within me. The reprieve of being empty lasted only seconds, until he thrust his manhood inside me. And he was even rougher than before. Slamming into me while robbing me of my breath, squeezing at my throat. I scratched him. I clawed, but he only growled louder, hardened more. Until at last he spilled himself within me, collapsing on top of me with a long thunderous groan. In the aftermath, I had stared at the ceiling, silent tears swimming in my eyes as I let the potion flood me and whisk me away from this hell. I liked being taken away. I rarely left this room, this bed. I didn’t know how long I had been here. I saw no one but Meister, mostly. Sometimes he would take me outside to walk around this . . . this . . . whatever this place was. Sometimes he would allow me to feel the sun on my face, to smell the fresh air, when he deemed I had earned it. But that was rare. I always disappointed him; he always hurt me. On those precious days spent in the sun, I would occasionally see some men, but they would never speak to me. I saw no other females. I was alone. Just me and Meister. At the sound of the lock turning in my door, I tensed, eyes wide, waiting for him to come through. My arm itched, and my legs shifted restlessly on the wet mattress. The chain attached to my wrist pulled tight as my arms twitched with excitement. My blood raced in my veins and my pulse hammered in anticipation of what Meister would be bringing me. He would have the potion that made me forget. I smiled. Then he was inside the room, as big and domineering as ever with his thick-set neck and shaved head.
He wore jeans and a white tank. His heavily tattooed arms bulged with muscles. His blue eyes locked on me, and as it did every time I saw him, fear infused me and glued me to the spot. “Phebe,” Meister said softly. My eyes never left him as he moved around my bed before stopping at the foot. He reached out, and his finger circled softly on my ankle. The insatiable heat that was burning up my body suddenly morphed into ice at his touch. And then his fingers traced up my calf and upward along my inner thigh until they stopped at the entrance of my core. I never once took my attention off his eyes. They flared at the sight of the blood that had pooled between my legs. My breath caught in my chest when his fingers slipped along my folds. I wanted to cry out at the rawness of the pain I felt—the after-effects of last night. But I kept it locked inside, only to lose control and retch when Meister brought his bloodied fingers to his mouth and licked his tongue along the wet tips. I rolled to the side, to the bucket he kept beside me, and heaved dry retches as my body vainly attempted to vomit. Nothing came up. Instead, my body yearned for the potion. It yearned for the liquid that would take away the bad and usher in only the good. I felt the bed dip beside me. Meister pulled my long, sticky hair from my overheated face. “Shh . . .” he crooned lovingly. He ran his hand down my spine and traced his finger between the crack of my behind. I moaned, feeling sick, lost, the searing heat of the craving rushing through my veins. But he didn’t stop. Meister never stopped, no matter how much I tried to protest. He took. He took and took and took. He pulled me up and laid me down flat on the bed. My head swam as I tried to focus. It took several seconds for my eyesight to clear and for the room to swim back into view. Meister was holding my chained arm out toward him. My wrist rested on his lap, and he ghosted his fingers up and down my upturned limb. My skin was paler than I remembered it ever being; it was peppered with red marks, some bruised and scabbing over, some fresh and weeping. “Is this what you want, meine Liebchen?” Meister said, his voice as soft as a whisper. I had no idea what he called me, but he was always gentle when he spoke these words to me. Almost loving. Every time he did, he nearly tricked me into thinking he actually cared. I squeezed my eyes shut as I nodded. My veins almost burst with need. They felt as though they were reaching from my skin, searching for the rush they craved, the liquid that was a balm on my tortured soul. On my sinful soul. When I opened my eyes, Meister held up a needle for me to see. I resisted the urge to lash out and push it into my flesh. Meister was in control. I had learned that with him, free will did not exist. As my mind drifted off into a kaleidoscope of dark memories and pain, I felt the familiar sting of a needle entering a vein. Then a surge of light and bliss flowed through my body, lifting me into an ethereal state, a blanket of warmth and pain-free liberty. As if being wrapped in the safety of God’s arms, I drew in a deep breath and let my mind fill with tranquility, and dance with light and life. No stress, no pain . . . just a river of peace. I felt the needle slip from my flesh, followed by the stubble of Meister’s jaw as he leaned over to kiss me and tell me he’d be back soon. I didn’t hear the door close when he left. I closed my eyes and fell into the sun. I was in a forest, deep in a magical heaven. I danced among the trees, feeling the leaves flutter through my fingers, the grass soft beneath my feet. Light music floated on the air, urging my body to sway to the beat. I loved to dance. It was my most favorite thing in the world. I swirled, and I smiled when I saw my Rebekah enter the clearing, as beautiful as I had ever seen her. Her long blond hair was flowing down her back, and her blue eyes were bright and filled with joy.
“Rebekah,” I breathed. I threw my arms around her and held her closely to me. Rebekah laughed her sweet laugh against my ear. “I am well, Phebe.” Her soft, delicate voice drifted over me like a prayer. “Truly?” I asked through a tight throat. “The last time I saw you . . . what Judah had done . . . what those men had done . . .” “Shh . . .” Rebekah soothed, stroking her hand through my hair. “I am happy, and . . .” Rebekah pulled back and turned toward the forest edge. “Come,” she instructed someone. A high-pitched giggle split through the warm night, and my heart clenched, so tightly it did not seem possible. “Grace.” I covered my mouth to stop the sob escaping my throat. Grace ran into Rebekah’s waiting arms and held her close . . . like a child would cling to her mother. “She found you,” I gasped, tears streaming down my face. “She did,” Rebekah said as Grace reached out for my embrace. I wrapped the little blond girl in my arms and cried into her soft hair. “You are safe now,” I murmured and felt Grace nod. I opened my eyes to see Rebekah watching on, such sweet love in her eyes. “Forgive me, Rebekah,” I pleaded. “For not saving you when I should have. For not protecting you when you were young. For what Judah did to you on that hill . . .” Rebekah came closer, shaking her head. “There is nothing to forgive, Phebe. You saved Grace. We are happy now. You saved me by saving her.” “Happy,” I cried. Happy . . . safe . . . “Sister Phebe?” I slowly turned around. There she stood, in a white dress, with that long blond hair and those deep dark eyes I knew so well. Our eyes met, and she smiled at me. I got to my feet, feeling the same overwhelming love build within me that I felt every time my eye lay upon her. “Sapphira,” I whispered. She had grown some since I had last seen her, reading scriptures together in the commune, lying amongst the bluebonnets in spring, hands held and smiling under the warmth of the sun. No men, no duties . . . just happiness in one another’s company. And she had grown even more beautiful, if that was possible. She ducked her head as I gazed at her. She was so shy, always had been. So quiet, but so beautiful in nature. I ran my hand through her soft hair and felt my heart flutter, then shatter apart. “I have not seen you in so long,” I said, my voice catching. “I know.” A tear slipped down her cheek, and I caught it with my finger. It was warm, just like her. “I . . . I have missed you.” Her quiet confession tore my soul in two. In a heartbeat, I had her wrapped in my arms. She still smelled the same, still felt the same in my arms. “I miss you too, Sapphira. So much. So much that at times I cannot breathe.” “I wish to come back to you,” she pleaded, and held on to me tighter. “It is not safe,” I said, crying. “Where I am is not safe for you.” “I know,” she relented, but she did not move from my embrace. She wanted to stay with me, I could feel it in my soul. My heart soared. I wanted her to stay too. I opened my eyes, smiling, happier than I ever dreamed I could be, but then the forest began to fade. The trees began to disappear into blackness, the sun dipping behind a too-near horizon. I tried to grip on to Sapphira tighter, but I began to lose the feel of her in my arms. Her body shimmered before me, turning into vapor. I blinked, to try and see her just once more, to kiss her cheek and tell her I loved her. But then I was falling, falling until I hit something hard, so hard it robbed me of my breath. I cried out, arms outstretched, trying to climb back into the forest, but the darkness began to lighten, then cleared to show me the inside of a small room. I was back in my bed, chained, with my arms stretched high in the air. “No,” I whispered, devastation ripping through me. “No!” I cried again, curling on my side to try and bring back the light. I wanted to go back into the light.
I needed more potion to help me return. Then I heard him breathe. Tears fell like waves down my cheeks as my euphoric high came crashing down into utter despair. Meister’s hand reached out and smoothed away the wetness from my cheeks. “Liebchen . . .” he murmured. When I looked to him—because I knew that I must—he had removed his shirt to reveal the huge black tattoo emblazoned in the center of his chest. The symbol that he had replicated on many other parts of his pale skin, the symbol that hung on large red, white and black flags around the room. “You dreamed of her again?” he said softly, bringing his face closer to mine. The potion was fading, and I felt a deep hollowness in my stomach, in my heart. I opened my mouth to beg him for more. I wanted more of the potion. But before I could, Meister’s eyes clouded with darkness. “Answer me!” he ordered. The hand that only a few seconds ago had been so gentle on my cheeks suddenly became cruel as he gripped my jaw and glared at me with menace in his eyes. “Yes,” I said, pushing the words through my constricted throat. “I dreamed of her.” He relaxed his grip. “Funny how the heroin makes you talk in your dreams, as if you are seeing everything in real life.” His head tilted to the side. “The way you cry for her. Want her in your arms.” Then he dealt his final insult. “But you didn’t fight for her, did you? You lost her, and now she’s gone forever.” He tapped my head. “Only in here does she need you. Because you failed her.” He tutted his disapproval. “You were a terrible, terrible protector. A horrible sister.” His grip tightened again on my jaw, so tight that I cried out, terrified my bones would shatter under his great strength. He bared his teeth and hissed, “And Grace was there again too? The pretty little one you hid from me.” His nose slid against mine, seductively, affectionately, until his mouth touched my ear. “She would have made me a fuck-ton of money, but you let her go. You took her from me.” He released me and I gasped in relief. His hand threaded through my hair. “But I got to keep you.” He smiled, a cruel and wicked smile. “And I won’t be letting you go. I love you. You know that, don’t you? My little red-haired whore.” He reached for my wrist when I did not answer, so I quickly said, “Yes. I . . . I love you too, Meister.” Meister pulled back his arm and nodded approvingly. “And because of that, you’ve earned yourself a shower.” Meister unchained me and helped me from my bed. I glanced down at my naked body as I unsteadily got to my feet. I could see my hipbones. I could see my ribs. When I had gained my balance, Meister led me to the shower room. I wanted to cry with every step, it hurt so much. I had not been showered in days. My limbs were unused to movement. But more than that, with every step I took, I saw my dream of Sapphira drifting farther and farther away from me. And I heard the echo of Meister’s voice . . . you failed . . . you were a terrible, terrible protector . . . a horrible sister . . . Because it was true. I had failed her. Everything had been for nothing. My life had been for nothing. Nothing . . . . . . all I had left in the world.
*****
I let the water fall over my head. My palms were flat to the wall as the steady stream washed away the blood and grime of the last few days. My wrist ached from the harshness of the metallic handcuff, and my new needle marks throbbed as the hot water pounded the holes in my flesh. I inhaled the billowing steam, praying it would clear my head. But it was no use. My ever-busy mind
never rested. It was never at peace. The only times I had any kind of reprieve were when Meister’s potion would puncture my vein and enter my blood. “Get out,” Meister ordered from beside me. He never left me alone unless I was chained to the bed. Whenever I was freed from my shackles, I was with him. And he watched me. Studied me . . . craved me. I saw it in his eyes. It had been that way since Judah gave me to him at New Zion, a sacred gift. The female Judah knew would please Meister beyond measure. And it had worked. I had seduced him, made him crave my touch. Only now, it was worse. He could not give me up. I was the air to his lungs and the very beat to his heart. I was his ultimate obsession. Meister walked to a nearby set of drawers as I tried to dry myself. When I heard the drawer open, the first morsel of hope I had felt in days blossomed in my chest. When Meister turned around, holding a white dress in his hands, I had to stop myself from sobbing in happiness. He only ever dressed me when he took me outside. I almost dropped to my knees in yearning at just the thought of feeling the warm sun kiss my face and the fresh air inflate my heavy lungs. Meister approached me, his nostrils flaring as he drank in my naked body. He took the towel from me, knocking it to the floor. I bowed my head as he stopped before me. I managed to keep completely still, perfectly obedient, as his finger landed on my breast and circled the skin around my nipple. I let him. I would always let him. I knew the consequences of any act of defiance. It had taken me a full week to recover from my punishment when the devil’s men had invaded New Zion. Meister had found me hiding, but without Grace. I had let him down. And I was paying the price. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Liebchen,” Meister said as his tongue landed at the bottom of my throat and lapped up the residual droplets of water, all the way up my neck, until he sucked my earlobe in his mouth. I closed my eyes. I just breathed. I knew men. It had been my role, my sole duty within New Zion, to know men. I was the female responsible for the Sacred Sisters of New Zion. We left the commune to recruit men, to draw more members to our cause. And I’d believed God would reward me for my service. I would pleasure the men like nothing they had ever known. I was skilled in seduction, a master at making my every touch a taste of the divine. Judah could not resist me, even going as far as to make me his sole consort. That is, until he found a younger model more suited to his . . . particular needs. But Meister . . . I had never handled a male such as him before. His strength, his possessiveness and his punishments . . . I was unsure of what to do in his presence. He paralyzed me with fear. “Get dressed.” Meister handed me the thin white material. With shaking hands, I did as requested, brushing my long, wet hair from my face with my fingers. Meister kicked a pair of sandals in my direction, and I slipped them on, stopping myself from sprinting toward the door. Then Meister was beside me, holding my arm with an iron-tight grip. He led the way forward, pulling me toward the door. The turning of the lock seemed to take forever. But when the door finally opened and daylight flooded in, I breathed in my first lungful of clean air and instantly felt calm. I flinched as we stepped outside and sunlight blazed around me. I stilled, trying to gain my bearings as I blinked in the morning sun. Or maybe afternoon, or evening. I did not know. I leaned into Meister to stop myself from falling, his huge body propping me up when I became lost to a sudden wave of weakness. When the world eventually came back into focus, I took in what was before me. The town, one unlike anything I had ever seen before, with its shacks of all shapes and sizes scattered around the dusty ground. Signs sat above the buildings: “Saloon,” “Jail,” “Dentist,” “Barber” and many
more. I had no idea what many of these titles meant, or if these buildings operated as they were named. A light breeze blew the dirt up into the air, swishing the sand around my feet. It blew the strange flags that hung from the buildings, the material flapping gently. It was quiet, only a few men walking around the barren town. Many of them looked similar to Meister —they wore the same harsh black tattoos on their skin, had similar shorn haircuts. The coloring was the same; they wore similar clothes. And they all stared at me. Meister stiffened when one male passed and cast me a leering smile. He stepped forward, using his massive frame as a weapon of intimidation. “Get the fuck on before I break your motherfucking neck, cunt!” he snarled, sending the other male running into the large building whose sign read “Saloon”. Meister wrenched me forward. I could tell by his aggressive hold that he was greatly displeased. I stifled a moan as his hand bruised the skin on my arm. I did not know where we were going. I was simply grateful to be outside. We had barely taken a few steps when a loud shout and the sound of a gun shattered the silence. My head snapped to the right, to the building where the noise had come from. Meister ground on his heel, his grip tightening. “Fuck,” he spat when a man came barreling through the building’s door. “Meister!” the man called. “Problem!” Meister’s lip curled, and he gave a low growl of annoyance. He hauled me back toward the door of the shack he kept me in. My heart plummeted; I was to be locked away once again. I gulped in as much air as I could, pathetically trying to savor its freshness and the velvet touch of the breeze as it lapped over my face. Another shot fired, and the call for Meister came again, even louder this time. Meister groaned in frustration and slammed me back against the wall of the shack. The air was ripped from my lungs by the impact. Before I even had a chance to recover, Meister’s firm grip was caging my face, and his blue eyes bored into mine. “Stay here. Don’t even dare move until I get back.” “Yes . . . sir,” I managed to reply. Meister crushed his cruel mouth against my lips. He did not want to kiss; he simply wanted to ravage my mouth. He pulled back and darted across the dirt to the building which housed the trouble. The sign above the door read “Dentist”. I slumped against the fragile wooden wall and cleared the water from my eyes. As if my body could do nothing but obey his command, I remained rigid and unmoving. In the quiet, I allowed my eyes to scan the area. My head ached, and my mouth was dry. But worse, my arm itched, and my veins had already begun to swell with the need for Meister’s potion. And I was tired. I was so, so tired . . . Movement from across the dirt path grabbed my attention, and my head snapped up as I caught sight of a man hurrying from one of the buildings, dragging someone behind him. I narrowed my eyes, trying to see more clearly. My eyes were getting so blurry, tiredness beginning to take hold . . . and then everything snapped into focus. A blond-haired young woman. A white dress, the exact same design as the one I wore. Shocked at the very fact that I was not the only female in this place, I took a step forward. Just as I did, the woman pulled back from the man, fighting to get free. She slipped from his grip, and as she did she turned, giving me a glimpse of her face. The recognition hit me like a blow to the head. I felt the blood drain from my cheeks, my limbs growing weak as I fought to remain upright. No . . . no, no, no, no . . . I rubbed my eyes, trying to see her better. I prayed that I was mistaken. I prayed . . . I shook my head,
convincing myself I was wrong. But I knew that face. I loved that face . . . Horror, devastation and a gamut of every sorrowful feeling swept through me like a hurricane as the male grabbed the girl by her hair and slapped her across the face. The girl swayed on her feet, then, unable to do anything else, she was dragged in the male’s wake toward a large barn-type building. A girl. Because she was a young girl. No more than . . . I racked my brain, trying to remember, trying to clear this ever-present fog from my brain and grab on to some facts, some truths that had existed before Meister had burned them all away with his potion and his pain. Fourteen . . . I thought as my eyes widened and my heart beat an impossible rhythm. My hands shook as I recalled the girl’s face to my mind, connected the memories to the present. Her long blond hair, her slim body, her dark-brown eyes . . . “Sapphira?” I whispered, a red-hot slice of pain cutting though my stomach. Was it her? No . . . it could not be. She was safe in a faraway place. He had told me she was safe. She had been sent from New Zion. She had not drunk the poison . . . she had been safe, survived the mass death . . . Devastating pain slashed through my head as I thought of her face again. The fear and panic as she pulled from the man. Her bruised lips, her split skin. No, it cannot be. My focus spun and my vision swam. I could not think. I needed the potion to think. I needed what only Meister could give me. But then a piercing, feminine scream came from the building to my left. Without thought, my legs propelled me forward. I ran. I ran as hard and as fast as I could, stones from the rough, loose ground slipping into my sandals and slicing my skin. My legs were weak as I pushed myself toward the building, but that did not matter when another scream followed—this one was softer, as though the screamer was being hurt. My Sapphira being hurt . . . “Sapphira!” I choked out, almost inaudibly. Panic infused my every cell, rushing to erupt into the well of sadness building in the pit of my stomach. I reached the wooden door of the barn structure and pressed my hand against the dark-stained wood. The pulse in my neck beat so fiercely that it was the only sound I could hear . . . . . . until I pushed through the door, and everything stopped—time, sense . . . life. My body was motionless as I stared around the room. Bile and vomit crawled up my throat at the putrid smell clogging the air. Girl after girl, mostly young and slim, lay still in row after row of narrow beds separated by flimsy curtains. I ran past a brunette, then a blonde, searching their gaunt faces. Their eyes were either closed or dazed—they were lost to the potion, their arms just as marked and bruised as my own. And then I stilled. My lips trembled. I knew these females. Mary . . . Eve . . . Bilhah . . . Martha . . . Martha! They were from The Order. These girls, some as young as fourteen, were females from New Zion. My people. And . . . A moan came from the far corner. “Sapphira,” I said, each syllable filling me with dread. I was not imagining things. I saw her face, her beautiful, angelic face. This was not the potion playing tricks with my mind.
Not this time. Sapphira was here when he had told me she was safe. I did not understand. My heavy mind would not let me process it. And the male from outside was pinning her down, one hand digging his fingernails into the flesh of her arm as he parted her legs with his legs. His other hand wrapped around her neck, choking her, cutting off air. Then suddenly, I saw her slim, fragile body go limp. A clear bag hung on a metal pole beside her . . . and the potion inside was dripping into the vein of her arm. Sapphira . . . my Sapphira . . . I lunged. I threw my body at the man pressing Sapphira down. I hit at his arms and used my long nails to scratch at his skin. “Bitch!” he snarled and threw back his arm. I lost my balance and fell to the ground. My arm smacked against the floor, sending a lightning rod of pain splintering through my bones. But when I looked up and was met with the hazy dark stare of Sapphira, her fragile body succumbing to the unrelenting will of the potion, I forced myself to my feet. I staggered back toward the male, who was hovering yet again over Sapphira. Mustering strength I did not know I possessed, I hurled myself at him, pulling on his arm to stop his hand from resting upon Sapphira’s exposed thigh. “Stop!” I shouted, my voice grazed and raw. I had to stop him. I had to save her. This time, when the male tried to throw me off, I held on with all of my might. My arms wrapped around him, and acting on pure instinct, I sank my teeth into the side of his neck. And I bit down hard. I bit so hard that the male staggered to the side and slammed my back against the wall. Breath whooshed from my lungs, and my arms fell from around his neck. I dropped to the floor, exhausted and depleted, drained from all the fighting. But I had to try. I had to get back up. I had to save her. The door slammed open. My heart sank with pure fear before I even looked up. Because I did not need to look up to sense his presence. “What the fuck?” he snarled, his deep voice sounding like daggers drawn, threatening to slice into my cold and broken skin. “Stupid bitch fucking attacked me like some rabid dog.” Meister’s feet pounded across the floor so fast that I curled in on myself, desperately trying to escape his wrath. But his wrath was not focused on me. I heard a shuffle, a pained shout and a struggle for breath. Meister had the other man up against the wall, his bulging arm braced at the base of the male’s throat. The male reddened as Meister placed his face close, teeth bared, lips pulled back like a hound escaped from hell itself. “You touched her?” Meister hissed, spittle landing on the male’s face. He shook his head in protest. Blood trickled down his chest from the bite I had taken from his flesh. I took advantage of the distraction to crawl across the floor. Sapphira’s arm was hanging from the bed. I reached out and took her hand in mine. She was so cold. Her fingers were so weak. Sapphira . . . I turned my head to see the male struggling to breathe, the tips of his feet kicking at the floor. His eyes stared straight into Meister’s, yet the contact did not cause Meister to flinch. His strong arms held firm as he bled the male of his life’s breath . . . as he watched the light fade from his eyes. When the male’s eyes had begun to frost with the imminent call of death, Meister leaned in close, his mouth to the male’s ears, and he said softly, delicately, “You touched her. No one touches her.” Meister’s head drew back, and he watched with interest as the male’s skin blotched with red. “I can’t let it happen, Dale. Even the best of soldiers must obey my commands. No exceptions. No weaknesses. Remember? We are at war, and I am the commander.” In one last-ditch attempt to fight for his life, the male thrashed with the remaining stores of his energy. But his effort was futile. Meister’s unyielding grip held tight, and within seconds the male’s body slumped in Meister’s hold. His arms sagged, his feet dragged the floor, and his eyes never blinked again, forever
frozen on his murderer. As if discarding nothing more than a sack of dirt, Meister released the body to the floor. And then he turned to me. His blue eyes blazed with adrenaline, with the thrill of the kill. I begged my traitorous limbs to cease in their trembling. But it was no use; fear held me tightly in her embrace as Meister stepped toward me. He was displeased. He was more displeased than I had ever seen before. I squeezed Sapphira’s hand tighter. Crying, I kissed the back of her hand, the skin broken under my lips. Then I let her go. I could not let Meister near her. I could not let him hurt her like he had done the man on the floor. I forced my body to stand and edged my way toward the door. My eyes searched the room as I wondered idly what I should do, where I would go. How I would get Sapphira out. Salt from my tears ran over my cracked, dry lips. Meister was unmoving in the center of the room as he watched me. I swallowed, trying to lubricate my swollen mouth enough to speak. I ran my gaze over the females I knew, whom I had once laughed with and shared food and drink. Their bodies, so hurt, poisoned with the strange liquid, glared back at me as if I were part of the devil’s worst ever joke. “What is this place?” I managed to croak. Meister’s nostrils flared, and the veins in his thick neck pulsed. He tipped his head to one side and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “These . . . these are my New Zion sisters.” My eyes drifted back to Sapphira lying on her small cot, and I felt my heart crack down the center. Her dress was still baring her modesty from where the nowdead male had been touching her young skin. Vomit crept up my throat as I thought of her being taken, as I thought of the man taking her. Her fourteen-year-old body. Her dignity. A whimper left my mouth as I tried to get to her, to cover her up. I wanted her to open her eyes and look at me, but the potion had pulled her from consciousness. I needed her to wake up and see me. To know I was here for her. That I loved her. A firm hand seized my wrist, bringing me to a stop. Meister’s grip tightened, and I cried out; I could no longer bear the pain. He was silent as he twisted my arm. I dropped to my knees, tears falling from my eyes. “Please,” I begged when I feared he would break the bone. Meister glared down at me. My entire body shook. Slowly, ever so slowly, Meister crouched down until he was at eye level. I had always thought Meister was handsome. Yet it amazed me how a person’s polluted soul could seep from their heart and corrupt even the most beautiful features. “I told you to stay beside your shack.” He ran the index finger of his free hand over my cheek, a soothing, calming gesture, the tenderness a sharp contrast to the pain at my wrist. My eyes squeezed shut. When I opened them again, I repeated, “What is . . . what is this place?” I drank in the devastating sight of good females reduced to this pitiful state, the smell of male release and joining . . . the sense of helplessness and capture. But Meister did not answer me. Instead, he brought his face to mine and regarded me with his unique version of adoration. His cheek rubbed against my own; his lips brushed past my lips. “I have been good to you, Liebchen,” he murmured, lovingly. “I have cherished you, cared for you, kept you away from all of . . . this.” It took mere seconds for Meister to snap, to change from benevolent to malicious. His hands dropped from my face and wrist, only to reach out and fist within my hair. He wrapped his fingers around the damp strands and hurled me to my feet. I screamed as loud a scream as my weak voice could muster. My scalp was on fire as Meister wordlessly wrenched me from the room housing my sisters, my Sapphira. I tried to resist, I tried to get back to her, but Meister did not tolerate disobedience of any kind. He would not let me go.
Turning on his heel, he raised his free hand and sliced the back of it across my face. My legs buckled, yet I did not fall—Meister kept me upright by my hair. I struggled to find a fragile footing as he dragged me back into the sunlight We came to an abrupt stop outside the building Meister had run to earlier, when he had ordered me to stay at the shack. The “Dentist” sign idly wandered into my mind as I stared at the ground. A set of booted feet came into my peripheral vision. “Meister,” a low voice said, a question in his tone. “I’m using this. No one comes in unless I say so. Anyone dares and I’ll fucking kill them.” “Sir,” the male replied, stepping aside. I dared to raise my head, but I immediately regretted it. A lifeless male body lay in the dirt beside the wooden building. But unlike the male Meister had strangled, this one wore a blade in the top of his skull, his blood pooling around him. I tripped as I was forced up the step to the building. And then we were inside and all I saw was blood. Blood on the floor. Blood smeared on the walls . . . and blood covering the pale, lifeless body of a young girl, no more than seventeen, strapped to a large leather chair. Her wrists were bound, her ankles were pinned down with cuffs, and blood pooled between her legs. A clear bag like those beside Sapphira and my New Zion sisters hung at her side. I could not hold back the tears for the girl who stared up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. Her hair was long and brown, the thick strands matted and dull. And then I studied her face. Her beautiful face . . . Rachel. My chest caved in when I recognized the beauty before me. A Sacred Sister. Only sixteen years old. Sweet, kind Rachel with the pinkest rosy cheeks. But her cheeks wore no rose tint anymore. “Get her the fuck out and burn her,” Meister ordered. The male lifted Rachel from the chair. Her naked, ashen body was skeletal in the male’s large arms. He tossed her lifeless corpse over his shoulder, as if she had never been a person, a spirit and a soul. But instead disposable and nothing. Not even worthy of respect after death. Wordlessly, the male carried Rachel toward the door. As he passed, I found my hand drifting upwards and my fingers wrapping around her own. They were cold. They were so cold. Nothing more than skin and bones. Just like Sapphira . . . Worse, they were stained with crimson, the spilled blood of her ordeal. Whatever that was. The blood dripped from her body, leaving a trail in her wake, a dark red path leading from the place of her earthly hell. I closed my eyes. I wanted to run to Sapphira and free her. I wanted us to run away and start somewhere new. Go to some heavenly place where there was no pain, no blood. Where there was kindness, not cruelty. But I knew of no such place. The door closed; Meister and I were alone. I heard every breath we each took—his calm and smooth, mine fast and scared. I scanned the room, allowing my reddened eyes to drink in the scene. Strange tools hung on the walls; apparatus that I could not understand sat upon tables. And then there was the chair. I felt his eyes watching me, burning a hole into me where I stood. He moved beside me, a needle in his hand. Like it did every time, my skin reacted to the call of its master—the nameless potion that soothed my fiery blood. An involuntary moan slipped from my lips as my body swayed in the direction of the needle. But Meister pulled it back from my reach and gripped my cheeks with one hand. “You disobeyed me,” he said darkly, his blue eyes filled with ire.
He approached, and for every step he took toward me, I took a step back. He was the hunter and I was the prey as he backed me farther into the room, his large body looming over mine. My legs hit something, and I lost my balance, tumbling downward. Something hard broke my fall, and I slipped on something wet. Before I could react, I was sitting on a chair, reclining back. I tried to move, but Meister pinned my wrists and strapped them tightly to the chair. My hands throbbed as the blood fought to push through from my bound wrists. My ankles were next. I glanced down, and I realized where I was. And what was wet beneath me. I chased vomit from my mouth as I watched my white dress become sodden with red blood. Rachel’s still-fresh blood. “No! Please!” I begged. Meister finished tying my ankles, ensuring I could not move. I struggled against my restraints, but it was hopeless. I was trapped. “Meister.” I felt a teardrop leave the corner of my left eye and crash to the soiled leather beneath my body. He moved beside me, stroking my hair from my face. My eyes closed under his touch, but not in comfort. It was in trepidation. I did not know what was to come, but I knew it would stop me from getting to Sapphira. She needed me, and I would not be able to help her. I would not be able to help any of them. Meister bent down and smiled at me softly. “This place, as you so called it, is for the cause, the race war that is about to come.” My eyebrows pulled down in confusion. I had no idea what a race war even was. “I have spared you the truth, because I was trying to protect you.” He smiled, as though he were feeling something sweetly in his heart. “Because I love you, I have kept you from what happens in this town.” Meister’s face fell, and anger marred his features. “But you just had to disobey me, didn’t you, Liebchen? Because you’re a whore, and that’s what whores do. You cannot be trusted. And now, I must teach you to behave.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “I must eradicate what you have seen today from your weak mind. Take all of these new memories away.” He smiled. “I have a new serum I’ve been testing. Real potent shit. Makes all of these memories fade to nothing, never to be recalled again.” He stroked my face so gently. “I’m gonna give it to you, and it’ll work. Soon you’ll remember nothing of this night. It will be as if it never happened. A clean slate.” “No!” I shouted. I did not want to forget. I needed to remember she was here. That she was not safe. That I needed to save her from this hell. I could not be thrust into darkness, my memories stolen, never to be recalled. She would perish. The pain, the fear she would endure . . . He ignored me. Taking a knife from his pocket, he ran the sharp blade down the front of my dress, severing it in two. He pushed the material aside, exposing my body to his eyes. Then in a flash, his hand was at my throat, his tight fingers starving me of breath. His face encroached on mine. “If you want to be treated like the rest of the sluts in this town, then you fucking will be. Only you’ll be my slut. And I will school you to our ways here. I will break you like I have broken them. Own your pussy like I own theirs.” He loosened his grip as he reached into his pocket with his other hand and pulled out the needle my veins so heavily craved. Meister injected the vial of potion into my arm, then another, then another. I floated away. I watched, detached, as he crawled above me, released his manhood from his pants and slammed himself inside me. I watched from my perch on the ceiling as he gagged me and sliced his blade across the flesh of my stomach, letting my blood fall to the already-soiled ground. And I closed my eyes as the potion took me to the forest I longed for most, the one where my Rebekah and Grace waited. The one where Sapphira walked out of some overgrowth, covered in blood. I cried out at her too-thin body and lifeless eyes. “Sapphira.” I tried to get to her. But I was tied to a tree, my hands behind my back. Sapphira saw me,
and tears fell down her face. “Save me,” she begged as she began to fade away. As the potion engulfed my veins, I watched her fade from the forest, then begin to disappear from my head, shape by shape, image by image. I tried to remember her face. I tried to hold on to the fact that she was here. But the potion mixed with this new mystery serum grew stronger than ever before, robbing me of Sapphira’s cries, her tears, her face. I rocked against the tree, back and forth, trying to recall what I had begged my mind to remember. But the forest was barren and dark, and my head was too full of fog. I was alone in this forest. Alone and afraid. I wanted to remember. I needed to remember. But as my arm tingled and I became motionless against the tree, everything was just . . . gone.
Chapter Three
AK
“I’ve created a background on y’all,” Tanner said as we read the files he’d given us. “I placed your information on the Klan’s intranet and shared files. There’re millions of people on there, so you’ll be lost among the names. I made you mid-level members—you should be let in, but not cause too much intrigue.” I read my file again. Tanner had us as originally part of the Louisiana brotherhood. Cowboy’s Cajun accent would help with that. We were nomadic Klansmen, apparently. I hadn’t even known there was such a thing. Meant we drifted from state to state, helping the Klan “cause” wherever we were needed. Mobile soldiers. “And this Beau Ayers, our supposed reference?” I asked. “Take it he’s a relative of yours?” Tanner tensed. “My brother,” he eventually said, casually, as if the relationship meant nothing to him. But the way veins corded slightly in his neck told me otherwise. “Let me guess, y’all ain’t too close now you’ve left the great white cause?” Cowboy drawled, as Hush watched the ex-Nazi with suspicious eyes. He ain’t ever trusted him fully. Couldn’t really blame the guy. “Don’t speak no more,” Tanner said stiffly. “He was next in line to me. So now he’s the heir. He has top authority in the Klan circles along with my father and uncle. But he keeps to himself, ain’t too talkative. Signs off on orders through emails and shit. Perfect person to have given you the green light to head down here to Texas.” Tanner leaned on the table, all business, emotion gone. “You show them your names on entrance. They’ll check them in the system, verify the memberships. You say you just got into town and need to unwind. And you want pussy. I’d go as far as to say you want pussy in all the fucked-up ways.” I ground my hands together as I tried to imagine what kind of shit was going down in this so-called town. Tanner’s eyes shifted to each of us in turn. “Y’all got fake names. Remember them. Don’t use your road names—if all this goes down right and you get the bitch the fuck out, we want no traces.” Tanner’s assessing eyes flicked to Flame beside me. He was staring at the name on the file on front of him: Earl Brown. I could read what was going through Tanner’s mind; it was going through mine too. We weren’t sure the brother was cut out for all this undercover shit. “Carson Abney,” Tanner said to me. “Same background. Ex-Marine scout sniper, Special Ops. Same tours as you did. Means they can’t get your real records, so it works as our cover. Vike is Wade Bray, and Cowboy, Bryar Groves.” Tanner looked at Hush. Hush stared back, one cocky eyebrow raised. “What? No white-trash redneck pseudonym for me, mon frère?” Tanner’s jaw clenched. “You walk in there and these fuckers will lynch you on the spot.” “Fun,” Hush said dryly. “You stay close, at a nearby motel.” I nodded at my mixed-race brother. “We’ll need a distraction at some point. You’ll be it.” “Black bait?” He smiled, his blue eyes lighting up with excitement. “You mean I’ll get to toy with the big, bad Aryans?” He shifted in his seat. “Shit, my massive black dick just got real hard. Bet Meister and his henchmen would just love to suck on that.” Cowboy laughed, then laughed even harder when Vike leaned around me to look at Hush and asked, “That true, blue eyes? You hung?” “Like a motherfucking horse,” Hush quipped.
Vike shook his head and looked at Cowboy. “Shit, brother. I’m surprised you can even sit down if you get pounded by that battering ram on the daily.” I rolled my eyes and shut the fucking room up before it could turn into a Viking-Cowboy pissing contest. “When do we go in?” “Y’all are ready to go whenever you want,” Tanner said. “Then we go tonight.” I met each of my brothers’ eyes. “Hush, you take the van. We might need it. The rest of us will take a truck. Got a piece-of-shit one that just came into the shop. Banged up and stolen— untraceable back to us.” My brothers nodded. Styx and Ky walked through the door. “You set?” Ky asked, pointing at the files in our hands. “Going tonight. Might be a few days. Going dark.” “You need us, you get word to us and we’ll come in guns blazing to get you out,” Styx signed. I nodded again, then looked at Ky. “Don’t tell your old lady none of this shit. We’re going in to get her sister, but if this Meister dick is doing what we suspect he is, ain’t no guarantee Red’ll be coming home. And if we do find her and get her the hell out, don’t think we should bring the fucking welcome committee until we know she ain’t at death’s door.” Ky stayed silent for a few seconds, but then nodded his agreement. “The minute you get out, you let me know what’s happening. Alive or dead, I wanna know.” “You got it,” I replied. Styx raised his hands. “Something don’t feel right, get the fuck gone. If Phebe is there but you can’t get to her, come back and we’ll figure something else out.” He smirked. “Basically, just don’t fucking die. Ain’t got time to replace you stupid pieces of shit. Yeah?” “Got it, Prez,” Vike said with a crisp salute. I led us out of the clubhouse. I turned to Cowboy and Hush as I lit up a much-needed smoke. “Come down to our cabins in an hour. Hush, bring the van. Cowboy, bring the truck. Tank has the keys.” We had a Klan town to infiltrate.
*****
“You know we’ll have to fuck these whores when we’re there, right?” I said and instantly felt the truck frost over. “I ain’t fucking no whore pussy,” Flame spat out. He shifted in his seat in agitation. “We’ll just warn them right off the bat that Earl here is a fucking nut job and don’t touch women unless to send them to the boatman. They’ll take one look at him and believe it,” Viking said. “Klan’s gotta love psychos, right?” “You expect us to fuck these bitches?” Cowboy asked, his leather Stetson pulled low on his forehead. “Not sure about you assholes, but I ain’t into fucking drugged-up sluts. Club sluts, whores and shit are aokay. But rape ain’t my flavor.” “Pussy ain’t your flavor at all, is it?” Vike turned to face the back seat. “Ain’t the taste of salty cum on your tongue more your thing, mon frère?” I rolled my eyes as Viking ran his tongue round his lips, and waited for our Cajun brother to bite back. “Depends on the cock the cum’s spurting from.” Cowboy leaned forward until he was just inches from Vike’s now shocked-as-hell face. “You get a dude who’s just eaten pineapple, and fuck—” he shook his head and wiggled his eyebrows “—I could lap that shit up all day.” I laughed my ass off as Vike choked on a cough, a disgusted expression on his face. Cowboy just stared at him, flapping his tongue. “You’re fucking with me, right?” Vike asked.
Cowboy just shrugged and sat back in his seat, casual as fuck. “You are though, right? We all saw you become a weeping pussy for Ky’s sister at his wedding.” Cowboy ignored him to look out the window. “But seriously,” Vike pushed, unable to let anything go, “you gotta like pussy. I could feast on that shit all day—breakfast, lunch, dinner. All-you-can-eat buffet, ya know?” “Fuck, Vike! Shut up. The visual of you going down on anyone makes me wanna stab out my goddamn eyes,” I spat. “Whatever, bitch. You just ain’t got the tornado-tongue talent like me. Clit, slit, spit—in that motherfucking order. Gets those bitches squirting for days. Love a good face spray. It stays in my beard for at least a week.” Before the puke had a chance to crawl its way up my throat, I saw two flags in the distance, waving in the breeze. Ice crawled over my skin. I knew where those flags were from—the ghost town. “This it?” Cowboy scanned the barren surroundings. “According to Tanner.” I replied. “We all ready?” All my brothers nodded. We arrived at the gate. The moment the guard left his post and approached, I felt the need to kill rush through me. With every step he took, I envisioned my fist hitting his square jaw, jumping on him as he hit the ground. I imagined sliding my knife from my pocket then pushing it through his still-beating heart. This prick was Klan all right. The guard was pushing some serious ’roids, a semi-automatic in his hands, knives in his belt. His head was shaved, his white shirt pulled tight over his blown-up chest, and his pants were tucked into his shitkicker boots. The four of us were also wearing variations of this uniform—black cargo pants or jeans, military boots, and white shirts or tanks. “What the fuck do you want?” the fucker demanded. “Here on a rec from Beau Ayers,” I replied casually. I held out my doctored Aryan Brotherhood card Tanner had forged, and the ’roid-head took it from my hand. He checked my name then leaned in, beckoning with his fingers for the others to hand over their cards. He took the cards into his small office. I watched with rapt attention as he entered the numbers and names into a computer. “Cowboy?” Vike said under his breath. Cowboy frowned at Vike and his totally inappropriate timing. “That pineapple-cum thing? Does eating it really make your juice taste the shit?” “Vike,” I hissed. I grabbed his arm and wrenched him to sit forward in his seat. “What?” he asked. “If it’ll get more club sluts munching on my junk, like my love juice is pumped with piña colada, then you bet I’ll be eating my weight in the good stuff!” I kept my hand clenched on the wheel, subtly lashing out and slamming my fist into Vike’s thigh as the ’roided fucker came back. “Marines?” he asked. I nodded. “Sniper.” I clocked the same tattoo on his forearm as I had on mine. “WMDs,” he confirmed, then nodded at me as a sign of respect. He looked into the truck. “Fuck up the rules, you won’t be leaving. We run a tight ship. Ain’t no brother above Meister’s law.” The guard moved back and tapped the roof of the truck cab. The barrier lifted, and we pulled out onto a dirt track that stretched on for a good few miles. The two flags I had seen from the road came into view— the Texan Lone Star flag, and the Stars and Stripes. Then as we turned the corner, smaller flags began to appear. Swastika, Confederate, and the white cross of the KKK. “Shit,” Viking said quietly. A clone of the ’roid, armed with exactly the same gun, signaled us to a parking lot. Dozens of trucks were parked up. “Busy weekend,” Vike commented. Dark had set in, and as we got out of the truck, the smell of burning wood filled the air.
“There’s a rally,” I said under my breath. The guard approached and flicked his chin. “Missed the start of the rally. Go in and you’ll be shown to your rooms. The rally is on the far field. Just follow the path, then you get to choose your pussy and shack.” I nodded as if I knew what the fuck he was talking about. I didn’t. “A shack?” Cowboy said quietly as we made our way to the entrance. “Guess we’re about to find out,” I answered under my breath. Then we entered the town.
Our digs were basic—single, dorm-style rooms, side by side. Vike and Flame were beside me, Cowboy on the other side of Vike. We dumped our bags then headed outside. “It’s like there’s been a fucking nuclear apocalypse or some shit,” Vike said as we looked around the town. Old buildings were littered around the desolate land. A bar sat at the end; a long barn took up the east side. I narrowed my eyes, looking for signs of life. The windows of all the buildings were barred up, and apart from a few guards, there was no one around. One of the guards approached us. “Rally’s that way. Pussy afterward.” We walked toward the field. Didn’t need no directions, simply had to follow the orange glows coming from the Klan fires. “Remember the salutes,” I said, checking behind me to make sure the guard was out of earshot. “Left arm out, fingers spread in the middle, right hand making a ‘K’ against your stomach. If they give the Texan Aryan Brotherhood salute, raise your index finger, ring and little finger on one hand in response. Tanner said it’ll be mainly guards who greet each other this way, but be aware just in case. And if they raise the standard right-arm Nazi salute, repeat and reply with ‘Heil Hitler,’ ‘Sieg Heil’ or ‘White Power’—it’ll be easy, just repeat what they say.” “Shit.” Vike shook his head. “What’s with all the sign language crap? Maybe Styx should have come.” “Christ knows,” I replied as we turned the corner. Flame growled low in his throat at what lay before us. About forty or so men, dressed in standard shirts and jeans and, of course, there were the hooded men, a sea of cone-headed white hoods. My hands balled into fists when I saw a huge motherfucker in the center of the circle, standing right in front of a burning cross. Meister. I assessed the surroundings, noting the potential exits if shit went south. I led the way and joined the circle of men. Several greeted us with the standard Klan salute of a left arm raised. I had to force myself not spit in the face of every smug bastard that flicked his head my way. But we returned the salutes and watched as Meister spoke over the crackling of the burning wood. “A race war is coming, and we must be prepared. The white race will reign supreme once again, and we will end them all—the blacks, the Jews, the Muslims, and any other fucking inferior cunts that try to infiltrate our lands.” His blue eyes were wide with excitement as he looked at each of our faces and nodded, a smile building on his lips. “Gone are the days of street thugs and skinheads, of smashing windows and rioting through cities. We are building an army for the fight. You’ve seen the news, heard the reports—the whites are finally on the rise. And we will prevail! We are strong! We are pure! And we will rise!” The men around us raised their hands into the air, shouts of “White Power” pouring from their lips. We shouted back, repeating the mantra over and over again until Meister called for the rally to end. The guards ushered the throng back to the center of town. I signaled for Vike, Flame and Cowboy to hang back. I wanted to track Meister. I wanted to see where he went. If there would be any obvious sign of Phebe. We spoke in a tight group, pretending to talk, until a guard came with his gun to guide us back to the path away from the field. I kept my attention locked on Meister as he fell into step behind us. I tried to
hear what he and the guard were saying, but they were too far away. I couldn’t get near the fucker. The blood rushed through my veins as we entered the town. The lifeless wasteland was now brimming with activity. Men who had been at the rally entered buildings, some on their own, some in small groups. Then there was the line that had formed at a large barn. Fucking chaotic. “What the fuck is happening?” Vike asked, exasperated, as we stopped outside our dorm. On cue, a guard stepped out of a shack, dragging a bitch in his wake. And then more guards brought more bitches out of more shacks. My gut clenched. All the women were dressed in almost-transparent white dresses, and all looked like they were being put through some serious shit. Flame rocked on his feet beside me, his knife running along his arms, tracing the long scars he already had. Only these knives weren’t dull like the ones he’d used lately. They were sharp and they were fucking ready. He ran the tips over his skin, but he didn’t break the flesh. Yet. Looking at the brother’s eyes, I saw a glimpse of the pre-Maddie Flame. I saw the fucked-up kid I rescued all those years ago rising from his sleep. I searched through the sea of blondes and brunettes, looking for any flash of red. But there was fucking none. “Jesus Christ,” Cowboy whispered, as we watched bitches being pushed into shacks with men, the doors slamming shut, sealing them inside. “Look alive,” I said quietly as a guard came over. “You’re late, which means all the solo shacks are taken.” He eyeballed us all, then pointed to a small cabin on the west side. “Pay your dues. He’ll tell you the rest.” We headed to the cabin, where a thin white cunt with glasses sat behind a desk. Without looking up, he said, “Two thousand each for three days. Any way you want for as long as you want—excluding Meister’s rallies, of course. They’re obligatory. Rubbers required at all times. Don’t obey the rules, face the punishment.” I reached into my pocket and slammed my cash on the table. My brothers followed suit. “You want to book specific shacks, do it on a morning. I’m here from nine a.m.” He typed something on his computer, but never looked up at us. “Dentist shack is out of bounds this weekend. Don’t even attempt to go inside.” He reached out and collected the wads of money. “The barn is open tonight. Line up and you’ll be taken to a whore. You want young pussy, we have ones starting at fourteen. Younger can be arranged at extra cost.” He paused. “Lines are longer for them. Tough shit.” I felt Flame tense beside me and his arm shake in rage. “Heil Hitler,” the man said in dismissal and gave a lackluster left-handed salute. We repeated, “Heil Hitler,” then got the fuck out. As we walked down the road toward the barn, I scanned the area, my Special Ops sniper training springing into full effect. The sounds of fucking and screaming spilled from the shacks. The line for the barn was shorter now. I headed in that direction. “Get inside with a bitch,” I muttered. “Stay for a while, then leave. And for Christ’s sake look like you fucked the slut.” “I ain’t fucking no bitch!” Flame came to a dead stop, face blazing red. Turning, I replied, “Then get the fuck back to the dorms and wait for us to come back.” His nostrils flared, and I knew the brother was seeing the slave bitches being dragged from pillar to post. He was rapidly losing his shit. I got in his face. “Get the fuck back to the dorms. Call Maddie, forget what you’ve seen and calm the fuck down. She’s safe. She ain’t here. She’s with Ash at your home.” Lip curled, Flame spun on his heels and marched back to the dorms. A guard was on us in seconds. “Where’s he going?” I turned and faced the skinheaded fucker. “The man’s a fucking psycho. You want a bitch here sliced up
and dead with blades in her eyes, you let him inside with one.” The guard narrowed his eyes at Flame’s retreating back. “We’re passing through Texas on orders from Beau Ayers. Earl’s a solider for the cause, just like us. But we need pussy. He doesn’t. He just needs blood and the kill. That’s his porn.” “He better not be a fucking fag,” the guard snarled, disgust written all over his face. “Please, feel free to go ask him if he’s a fag,” Cowboy offered casually, but his sadistic grin showed how pissed he was. “I dare ya.” The guard let that shit sit with him for a second. “He kills Untermenschen good?” “Real inventive. Let’s just leave it at that,” I replied. The guard practically got a fucking boner over the thought of Flame slicing through blacks and Jews. I left the guard to his own fucked-up thoughts and joined the line for the barn. While we waited, I used the time to scan the town for Meister. There was no sign of him. It wasn’t until I saw a movement coming from the furthest shack that I stilled, my lungs stopping so my ears could hear nothing but the air around me. Meister turned the corner of the building whose sign read “Dentist”. The building we’d been told to stay away from. But that’s not what had me frozen, senses alert and eyes tracking his every move. That was down to the fact he was carrying some skinny bitch in his arms, her body lapsed and head dropped to the side. A bitch with red hair. A bitch he took into the shack and shut the door to keep inside. My heart slammed into a sprint as I re-ran the memory of Phebe through my mind. I’d seen her once, when we’d got Lilah back from almost being crucified. I’d almost killed her, thinking she was a threat. I’d put a gun to her head, but Ky said, “Listen, bitch, we’re gonna tie you up so you can’t go running back to Prophet Dumb-fuck and tell him we were here. You getting that through your fucked-up little brain?” Her blue eyes closed. She was fucking shaking, then she splintered my fucking dead heart when she nodded, and said, “Just . . . just please get her away and safe. Next time, the Elders will not fail to kill her, truly.” I’d stared at her then, her eyes reopening. The bitch was crying, fucking standing up to us “Devil’s men” to protect Lilah. And something inside of me changed. I’d wanted to take her with us, and out of that fucking hellhole. I never thought much on why, but I’d regretted leaving her there ever since. I ran her image through my head, comparing it to the bitch I’d seen in Meister’s arms. I closed my eyes and let my memory do what it had been trained to do. Her hair was the same shade of red, the length similar. I thought of her arms, their size and length. The bitch in Meister’s arms had been similar but she was thinner, a lot thinner. My cheek twitched as a surge of anger swept through me. I shook my head to rid myself of the tightness in my chest. A good sniper never let emotion fuck with his head. Always objective, clinical, assessing. I pictured her blue eyes. Those fucking ocean-blue eyes that had stared into mine. But the eyes of the red-haired bitch over Meister’s arms were closed. Drugged? Unconscious? Knocked out? I didn’t know. “Next,” a guard ordered, ripping me from my thoughts. I filed the details away for later when I was alone, when I could figure out all the information in my head. “Preference?” the guard asked. I shrugged, playing my part again. “Just want pussy to nail,” I replied. “Booth twenty-three,” he said. I set off down a narrow creaky hallway. Grunts and groans of men fucking their sluts filled my ears. Beds had been sectioned off by faded curtains, with handwritten numbers scrawled on scrap pieces of paper attached to the musty material. When I arrived at number twenty-three, I pulled back the curtain and stepped inside. I drew in a sharp breath as I laid eyes on a bitch lying in the center of what looked like a small hospital bed. She was naked, her bones jutting out under her white-as-fuck skin. Her dark hair was slicked with
sweat and dirt. Her eyes rolled as she fell in and out of consciousness, her head restless on the thin, drool-stained pillow beneath her. An IV was in the vein of her skinny, upturned arm, and a bag hung on a stand at her side. Heroin, I assumed. Knew traffickers pulled that shit on the regular. Kept their captives docile. I closed my eyes to keep my shit together, to keep my hand from reaching for my gun and going postal on these fuckers, adding to my record of 132 confirmed kills—the sniper in me couldn’t help but keep track of each heart I’d stopped. The psycho within fucking liked to. The sound of some cunt coming next door made my eyes snap open. The bedsprings groaned under the rapid movement of his hips, and his breath came in short bursts. I imagined some pasty, overweight Klan fucker slumping, exhausted, over a fourteen-year-old kid. His putrid breath blowing on her passed-out face, his sweat dripping onto her bruised skin. Calm, I ordered myself. Unable to look down at the young trafficked bitch on the bed, I sat down on the edge of the mattress and tipped my head into my hands. Keep your shit together, Xavier Deyes. I took my head to where it needed to be . . . The sweltering sun pounded down on my back as I waited, unmoving, for one of the fuckers to appear. “Two o’clock,” Bones said from beside me. I shifted, moving my gun to the new position. Through a small window, I saw a flicker of movement and braced my finger for the shot. “Wait . . . wait . . .” Bones said. “Now.” I shot a bullet straight through the window and into the fucker’s head. “Direct hit,” Bones said under his breath, but I could hear his fucking joy. Direct hit . . . I pictured the dusty, arid land, not too dissimilar to this fucking hellhole, in my head, pictured myself taking the shot, and let the calmness and training from my sniper days fill my every cell. I pictured the map of the ghost town, plotting every detail of its layout. I saw myself standing at the corner of the main street, staring at the town from the side of this barn. Three guards walked the rooftops. The road was a mile long, around one hundred yards wide. The saloon was the busiest area. Two exits— the main entrance and a side door to the left. Three locks—one bolt, two padlocks. I imagined staring at the dentist building. One way in and one way out. The entire building no more than one hundred and twenty-four square feet. One window in the front wall that was partially blocked by bars and dirt. Tin roof and decaying wooden walls. Then I pictured the best spot to shoot from in this town. High range, southeast. Clear shot for almost every conceivable angle. I blinked as I pulled myself from the depths of my mind. My hand ran over the handle of my gun. My foot tapped on the floor. A moan came from behind me, and I glanced at the drugged-up bitch on the bed. Whether I wanted them or not, flashes from the past came slamming to my head like a damn battering ram. I tried to push the punishing sounds of gargling, of choking, from my ears. But the fucking memories came as fast as the bullets from an Uzi. When I opened my eyes, my always-steady firing hand was shaking. I curled my fingers into my palm and forced myself to look at the Klan-made whore on the bed. Track marks ran like red stripes over her crepe-thin skin. Her lips were dry and cracked, and lesions mottled the ashen skin on her cheeks. Bruises created a palette of black, blue and yellow on her inner thighs, and I couldn’t even bring myself to look at the state of what lay north of that. As I got to my feet, I ran my hand through my hair and scruffed up the long strands. I rubbed my hands over my face to make them look red, and lastly, dipped my fingers in the small water basin that sat beside the bed. I opened the rubber that was on the side of the bed, wrapped it in a tissue and tossed it into the trash. The can was already brimful of used rubbers. I took one last look at the bitch on the bed and a pit caved in my stomach. She was here for the use of the paying Klansmen. And she looked a fucking state. What the fuck was Phebe gonna look like when I got to her? What the hell kinda drug concoction would she be on? Because I fucking would get to her. Even if
I had to take out Meister with a single shot between the eyes. End his reign as the head of Klan Kunt. Then see if whatever was left of Red would be salvageable. After this, I wasn’t holding out too much hope . . . . . . but I had to try.
Chapter Four
AK
I burst through the doors of the dorm to see Cowboy sitting on the floor outside our rooms. His Stetson was in his hands, his blond hair sticking up in all directions, and he was staring at a spot of dirt on the opposite wall. He looked up when I kicked his thigh with the tip of my boot. His face was like thunder as his blue eyes met mine. He got to his feet. “What now?” he asked coldly. “Where’s Vike?” Cowboy tipped his head toward Vike’s room. The door was shut. I brushed past Cowboy, hearing his footsteps following behind me. I opened the door and saw my brother sitting on his bed. His huge arms were tense under his tight shirt. His hair was scraped back into a bun on the top of his head. And for once in his fucking dumb life he wasn’t laughing. He looked me dead in the eyes. “I’ve done some fucked-up shit in my life, can kill without remorse, fuck any kind of bitch in all different ways, but what they’ve got those bitches doing in this place makes me wanna cut off some cocks and eat them for breakfast.” “Keep your shit together.” I looked at Cowboy. “Both of you. Get some sleep. Tomorrow we get into that fucking saloon. I need to scope this place some more. I’m gonna try to get a shack, the barber shack. I need to get as close to the dentist shack as I can.” “You’ve seen her?” Vike asked, his voice harder than normal. “Saw Meister carrying a redhead into the dentist cabin. Her weight was different to when we last saw Phebe, but I’m pretty fucking sure it’s her.” I ran my hand down my face. “Go into the barn again tomorrow. Same shit, different day. Once I get a visual on her, confirmation she’s here, and I’ve got a full assessment of the layout and the guards’ shift patterns, I’ll get my shit together and work up a plan to get her out.” Vike and Cowboy nodded. I went back toward my room but stopped outside Flame’s. I silently opened the door and looked inside. My fucking chest tightened when I saw him, shirt off, sitting on the cold, hard floor. His head was tipped down, and blood trickled around him from the freshly cut slashes on his arm. A jet-black soulless gaze met mine. I entered the room and shut the door. Before I even had a chance to speak, Flame growled, “I don’t fucking like it here.” He shook his head, and his lips curled over his teeth. “They need to die. They all need to die.” Flame hissed as he cut into his forearm. “I need to kill them.” There was the old Flame, the one I knew better than the calmer brother he’d been lately. “And you’ll get your chance,” I promised. “You just need to give me time.” Flame glared at me, reading my face. When he’d made eye contact too long, he dropped his eyes and said, “Just get me a fucking kill.” His face tightened. “I . . . I can’t help what I’ll do if you don’t.” Back in my room, I slumped on the bed and dropped my head back against the headboard. I closed my eyes. Then, like they did every night, the fucking storm of memories came crashing in; guilt and shame ran through my every fiber. Visions of blood drowned my mind and choked the breath from my lungs . . . “We gotta go.” Bones ripped through the opening of my tent. I was on my feet in seconds. I grabbed my gun and my helmet and ran outside toward the truck. The place was fucking chaos. “What’s going on?” I asked as we pulled out of the gate. Bones tensed. “Ambush.” “Where?” I asked. “In the north, X.” “Devin,” I said and stared out of the window. Sand stretched for miles. Sand and fucking derelict buildings.
Bones’s hand came down on my shoulder. “We’ll get there. He’ll be good. He’s a fucking good solider, X.” But Bones’s words meant shit. The sound of gunfire and RPGs led us to the ambush. “Go, go, go!” our sergeant screamed as we fled from the truck. “X, Bones, get me some fucking eyes from above. Need to see what we’re dealing with.” I let my feet follow Bones as we darted behind the crumbling buildings, searching for one where we could get some height. “Here!” Bones said, and we climbed the stone stairs that led to a rooftop. Bombs screamed around us, sand and debris spraying into my face in the hot breeze. Devin. Where the fuck are you. I dove to my stomach next to Bones. I propped up my rifle and looked through the lens. Bones searched through his binoculars. “Fuck,” he said. “Fuckers are everywhere.” One soldier, then another, fell to the ground as they were hit. Blood poured from their arms and legs, and I felt myself fucking burning with anger. “Bones, get me a fucking kill,” I snarled and focused through my lens. I saw the men on the ground, and my anger burned even brighter when I saw they were two of Devin’s men. “Oorah!” Bones shouted, the cry of the Marines and ducked down beside me. “North,” Bones said. I switched my gun in that direction. “West, two clicks.” My nostrils flared when I saw the prick with the RPG come into focus. The world fell away. I lined up my shot with the fucker’s skull. “Target on.” The hot wind blew against my face, the sun burning the skin. And I waited. I waited until . . . “Now!” I pulled the trigger. Shouts went up around him as he dropped off the post he held and smashed to the ground. “Direct hit,” Bones said, then, “Shit! Incoming!” He reached for his radio to warn the sergeant of the two trucks coming from the east, but it was too late. I scrambled to turn my rifle, and as I did, I caught sight of a familiar face, hunkering down behind a building with three of his men. “Devin,” I called, grabbing Bones’s arm. But the trucks opened fire, raining bullets and RPGs from the back. Explosions burst around the buildings, and the smoke clouded my vision of my brother. “Get me a fucking visual!” I demanded. Bones searched through his binoculars and steadied his out-of-control breath. “Northwest, three clicks.” A flash of a body came across my lens. “Sighted.” “Wait . . . wait . . . now!” Bones called, and I fired. I fired shot after shot, but the fucking bombs kept coming. And I lost sight of Devin. Through the smoke and blood and heat, Devin disappeared . . . My eyes snapped open. I was drenched with sweat. I stared at the end of my bed and the ghosts that fucking came every night. They ain’t real, I told myself. They ain’t fucking real. But they never left. Closing my eyes, blocking them out, I pulled Phebe’s face into my mind’s eye and focused on her pale skin, spattered with freckles. I envisioned saving her from this hellhole and taking her back to Lilah. I pictured her free from drugs and smiling. I held on to that image, to the stone-cold fact that she would be safe. She fucking had to be.
*****
“You see anything useful from the barber shack?” Viking asked as we walked toward the saloon.
I flicked my eyes around us to make sure no one was near. “All quiet. Couldn’t see in. But there was no movement in or out. I got the guard schedule figured out though. That’s something.” And I’d watched the dentist shack all night from my window. I’d slept on and off for a grand total of two hours. Night terrors, they were clinically called; at least that’s what the Marines’ shrink had said. The dead, staring at me with black empty eyes, watching the man who’d sent them to their deaths. They crowded in on me, taunting me with their gaunt, drawn faces. I sat and watched them from my spot on the bed. Frozen, paralyzed by the pain their images brought. Guilt’s claws digging deeply into my chest and ripping open my ribs to gnaw on my exposed heart. I tried to convince myself they weren’t there, night after night. But when you see the blood seeping from their wounds—fresh and hot—leaking to the floor . . . when you smell the cloying scent of death lingering in the air . . . hear their ragged breathing . . . knowing they aren’t real falls to shit. When every one of your senses tells you that your victims are here to make you pay, you fucking believe them and just let the torture begin. Flame grunted beside me as the four of us walked into the saloon. It was full of Klansmen, white-power band music spitting from the crackling speakers. No one even glanced our way as we walked up to the bar. Four American beers followed by four whiskeys were slammed onto the bar top without us even ordering. The bartender glared at us; I got the message quick. These American and European drinks were the only drinks that were served here. Nothing outside of the Klan’s particular WASP agenda. We took our drinks to a far corner, out of sight and in the shadows. The spot offered me the perfect location to view my surroundings. I’d been right about the exits. Two guards kept vigil around the room, while drunk-as-fuck Klansmen talked and laughed loudly, drunk on liquor and high from fucking the drugged sluts in the barn. Forty minutes later, Meister entered the bar with the same guard I’d seen him with before. The Himmler to his Hitler, no doubt. Men darted out of their way as Meister strutted through the crowd, his swastika and Totenkopf skull tattoos flexing in the dim light. He took a drink from the bar. When he turned, holding what looked like a file in his hand, I saw claw marks etched on his face. My hand tightened on my beer. Was that the work of Phebe? I pictured the red-haired bitch fighting the fucker off, the image making my fingers twitch with pride. Then the asshole was moving toward the jukebox. He snapped the wire from the socket and stared out over the crowd. Every man fell deathly quiet. I’d give the prick his dues, he was an intimidating fucker. Intimidating to everyone but us Hangmen. The room was quiet enough that you could hear a pin drop. Meister held up his hand. “Heil Hitler!” he yelled, and we all echoed it back. His right-hand man brought a whiskey to him. Meister knocked it back in one. He was dressed in black camo pants tucked into black boots and a tight wife-beater. Tank and Tanner could stand side by side with this cunt and not look out of place. He took a step forward and held up the file. “You’re all here because we serve the great cause.” His voice was low and his movements measured. My eyes narrowed as I studied every inch of this bastard. “You are all here because somebody recommended you, or thought you deserved to fuck pussy for a service well done.” The fucker let his blue eyes run over every one of us in the room, then he smiled, showing a mixture of white and gold teeth. “The pussy here belongs to the Brotherhood and the Klan. Good, all-American, white pussy, making us money for the war that hangs over us.” He ran his hand over his shaved head. “And the dick that plows this pussy, that fucks and sucks and drinks on the juices from their cunts, is only white cock. Klan cock. No Jews. No blacks. No spics. Or any other fucking poisoned blood that infects this planet like a plague, and robs the true race, the Aryan race, of what is rightfully theirs.”
Meister paced back and forth on his patch of floor. “All the brothers here are pure.” He stopped. Slowly, a savage grin spread on his lips. “Or they should be.” I darted a glance at Vike, Cowboy and Flame. Flame had his hands on his blades, ready to fight. Vike nodded a single discreet nod without looking my way. Cowboy tapped the tip of his Stetson, his free hand moving to his Glock. I had my eyes set on the fastest path out, hand braced on my gun. Meister opened the file. “We background-check all who enter my town. And we leave no stone unturned. For the race war to begin, we need good white soldiers. Soldiers who are dedicated to the white way and will do anything to bring our dream to reality.” Meister took a sheet from the file. “The pussy here is Aryan. We are all Aryan. Because we are the motherfucking ARYAN BROTHERHOOD!” Slamming what I now saw was a photo into the air, he said, “And no motherfucking Aryan would fuck black pussy!” Meister waved the picture around for all to see; it showed a black woman smiling. My eyebrows pulled down. The sound of chair legs scraping the wooden floor came from the far left of the bar, as someone jumped to their feet. Heads whipped in his direction. He looked in his late twenties. Some skinny blond who seemed to be strung out on meth. Meister glared at the guy, his lips curling in disgust. The traps in his neck bulged as he seethed on the spot. “You dare to call yourself White Power when you fucked this cunt’s pussy, lived with her for a year?” Meister’s face was red; he locked eyes on the guy, who began backing to the door. The guard I called Himmler stopped the guy dead and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. Meister took out a lighter, and making sure the not-so-pure Klansman was watching, set fire to the photo. He spat on the burning sheet as it fell in flames to the ground. “Get your guns,” Meister commanded us all. The guards began herding us, marching everyone outside. “What the fuck?” Vike muttered, as we got to our feet and followed the crowd. We were lined up across the width of the empty street. Daylight was fading. Several dimly lit street lights were on, but night was chasing sun. Himmler stood about ten feet away, still holding the terrified-looking Klan fucker by the neck. Meister pushed through the center of the line and stood in front of us. “Guns!” Meister ordered. Everyone pulled out their guns. I pulled out mine. Himmler turned the guy to face Meister. Meister folded his thick arms over his chest. “Run.” The guy’s face blanched. “No, I swear I didn’t fuck her,” he said, stumbling over his words. “Run,” an unimpressed Meister repeated. Himmler stepped away from the guy, standing to the side of our makeshift firing line. The guy’s breathing was labored with fear. He took off at a sprint. Meister held up his arm as the guy gained ground, running fast down Main Street. “Fire!” Meister yelled. Bullets flew from the guns of the Nazis around me. Most were fucked off their face on drink and fuck knows what else. I held back my fire, watching, as not one bullet hit. The kid gained more ground, and Meister held up his hand again. “Fire!” he called, louder, and another volley of shots rang out. The guy kept running. He was approaching the far exit, and with his speed and the fading light, ain’t one of those brothers, not even Vike, Flame or Cowboy, had a chance of hitting that shit. “For fuck’s sake!” Meister screamed. “Someone hit that traitorous cunt now!” But no hit came, and Meister turned to face us all, murderous rage in his eyes. I took one step forward, raised my gun and aimed. It was as if everyone else disappeared beside me—my vision became tunneled, and I held my stance until I’d locked on the target. One, two, three breaths. I released the bullet and watched as it sailed through the air with perfect precision, straight into the Klan fucker’s skull. The body fell to the ground in a heap. Even from this distance, I saw blood spurting from his head as his body twitched in the throes of death.
133 confirmed kills. I fucking smiled. I lowered my gun, never taking my eyes off the Klan-sympathizing asshole now wearing my bullet in his skull. I felt fuck all guilt. Even if he had fucked a black chick, that fucker still deserved to die. They all did. One bullet at a time, simply for being in this place. When I was sure he wasn’t gonna move, I shifted my attention from the corpse and lifted my head . . . to realize that every fucker in the place was staring at me, mouths open and fucking gawking. I took a deep breath, loathing the attention. And then I saw Meister watching me, his blue eyes locked on mine. Only he wasn’t gawking like the rest of these redneck pricks. He was looking at me like I was the second fucking coming. He stepped in front of me. “Name?” I lowered my gun to my side but tightened my hand on its grip. “Carson. Carson Abney.” I rattled the fake name off with ease. “Sniper?” “Marines. Special Ops. Iraq.” “Kills?” “132,” I replied. “133 . . . now.” I tilted my head in the direction of the slain Klansman. Meister let out a low whistle. “Impressive.” He held out his arm. There among the Nazi symbols and KKK flag stood a Marine tattoo, an American Eagle clutching the American flag, “Semper Fi” written underneath. One not too dissimilar to my own. “Tank battalion.” He nodded in approval. My fingers twitched as I fought the urge to raise the barrel of my gun and send a metal nugget through his skull. This fucker weren’t no brother-in-arms of mine. “Iraq and Afghanistan.” Without another word, Meister turned and walked down Main Street toward the body. He hovered over the corpse, and in the fading light, I saw his expression sour in disgust. Then, raising his heavy black boot, he slammed the heel down, using his full strength to crush the Nazi’s skull. Blood and brains spattered the dusty ground. Men around us puked; most turned away. But I watched the sadistic fucker as he spat on the body then made his way back toward me, leaving bloodied footprints on the dirt road. The sight of death didn’t bother me. I’d seen much worse. Fuck, I’d done much worse. “Carson.” Meister waved his hand my way. “You and I are going to have a fucking drink.” My heart beat fast as the adrenaline—of both the kill and the prospect that this fucker was letting me in to his circle—ran through me. I cast a glance behind me to Vike, who was standing close to Flame as our resident psycho eyeballed Meister. Cowboy slipped into step beside them, his blue eyes scanning around us for any sign of trouble. We followed Meister and Himmler past the still-stunned men and entered the saloon. Meister led us to a table at the front of the bar that I knew only he sat in. It was near the clear spot where he had made his little speech about betrayal not too long ago. A tray of shots was placed before us. Meister knocked back three in a row. We all did the same. When beers came next, Meister took a long sip without ever moving his eyes from me. “You know Beau Ayers?” I wasn’t surprised the fucker knew about each of his town’s “guests”. “Not personally. He got word to us.” I gestured to Flame, Vike and Cowboy. “We were in Louisiana. He wanted us in Texas.” Meister studied each of us. He nodded knowingly. “The Grand Wizard is calling all his good soldiers down here.” He pointed to himself and to Himmler. “The war is about to begin.” His eyes narrowed. “You have a Texan accent.”
“Plano, Austin, West Virginia and Louisiana,” I said pointing at myself, Viking, Flame and Cowboy in turn. “We were all drifters, brought together by the cause. Now we’re here.” “All Marines?” “Not me, just like ripping blacks’ throats,” Vike said, sounding like a perfect fucking Aryan brother. “Jew fucked my old man over. So I slit his throat. Been slitting throats ever since,” Cowboy drawled, sticking to the backstory Tanner gave him. “And you?” Meister asked Flame. Flame stilled, and I saw his cheek twitch. His hands gripped his blades. “Earl here is just a fucking out-and-out psycho. He came with me. But he shares the same dedication to our cause.” Meister’s eyes lit up. “He likes to kill?” he asked me, as though Flame were his new favorite toy. “I live for it,” Flame snarled, then, as if to prove he was the psycho I’d made him out to be, he dragged his blade down his arm, hissing and getting fucking hard when the blood began to pour. Meister clicked his fingers at Himmler. No less than two minutes later, Himmler dragged in another man kicking and screaming. “This one was with the other. He killed one of my best sluts today, fucked her so hard the bitch bled out. I was going to leave killing this fucker until later tonight when I was bored.” He paused, a cold smile on his lips as Flame’s attention fell to the accused man. “But now I’m thinking you might want a taste of his blood.” If Flame was waiting for a green light, that was as much as he needed. He leaped out of his chair and charged across the rapidly filling bar. As he passed me, I heard him say “Maddie” under his breath. Then his blades were drawn, and before Himmler could even let the guy go, Flame had slit his throat with one blade and sliced across his gut with the other. The man gargled as he choked on his own blood, as his innards began slipping from his stomach. Himmler released the walking-dead prick, and he fell to the floor. Flame didn’t let up, slicing and stabbing until the body no longer resembled anything but a bloodied pile of meat. Meister practically got a boner for Flame’s kill. I knew Flame was seeing Maddie in the slut’s place. Meister was lucky Flame had managed to sway his anger from him and onto the redneck. Flame stepped back, panting, chest heaving, his tatted arms covered in blood and his wife-beater a bright shade of red. Meister clapped his hands, laughing, and signaled for more drinks. “It’s no wonder Beau called you to Texas.” Flame looked my way, and I indicated for him to sit. Thank fuck the fucker did as I asked. About an hour passed of Meister talking about nothing but white-power politics and the details of how he thought the coming race war was gonna go down. He boasted that the town funded firearms and any other fucking Nazi shit the Klan could think of to acquire. Night fell. Men got wasted. Music blared. Then Meister clicked his fingers. I had no idea what the fuck he’d ordered Himmler to do this time, but a few minutes later, Himmler came back into the bar, dragging a drugged slut toward us. A skinny slut with pale skin. Dressed in a soiled white dress. Fucking flame-red hair, and freckles on her face. My chest tightened, my palms sweated and it took everything I had not to get up from my seat and drag the bitch from Himmler’s arms. Meister pushed back his chair, and Himmler dropped her onto Meister’s lap. Meister gripped her hair and wrenched up her face. All the fucking air slipped from my lungs . . .
. . . the slut was Phebe. “Real pretty, ain’t she?” Meister said. Phebe’s head lolled under his grip, her blue eyes unable to focus. Mark after mark mottled the skin on her arms. Needle marks. Her long red hair was greasy and riddled with dirt; her see-through dress showed her tits and pussy underneath. Bones jutted out at every angle. But worse was her face. Swollen eyes, bloodied, cracked lips, and bruises—old and new—marring her cheeks and jaw. The bitch was a mess. A moan slipped from Phebe’s mouth as Meister ran his hand down her chest and palmed her tit. His lips traced down the side of her neck, and the bitch tilted her head to the side to allow the fucker to lick along her sweat-coated skin. She cried out in pain as his teeth bit into her, leaving an angry, red mark. Viking shifted on the seat behind me and coughed. I knew he was trying to say something. He subtly tipped his head toward the rest of the room. The brother’s face would have looked neutral to anyone else, but I knew the fucker was livid. I looked around to see several bitches, dressed similarly to Phebe, being brought to men, the men pulling them onto their laps, doing whatever the fuck they wanted to them. “You want one, just pick,” Meister said. He raised a brow at me. I tried to form an answer, but I had to work real hard just to keep my shit together when I saw Phebe’s dress was pulled up, baring her pussy. Meister’s hand was between her legs, his finger pumping inside. “Maybe later,” I managed to say. But I was fucking seething inside. Sick, murderous thoughts were zipping through my skull, all with Meister’s dead body at the center. All with his pale-ass skin coated in his blood and his eyes gouged out by the tip of my knife. Flame’s chair flew back, and suddenly my brother was on his feet and storming out the door. “What the fuck’s his problem?” Himmler asked from beside Meister. The fucker hadn’t stopped watching any of us. “Ain’t good with crowds,” Cowboy answered. “Who gives a fuck? Look at how he kills. Who gives a shit if he isn’t into public pussy?” Meister winked at me, then he placed his hands on Phebe’s cheeks and turned her head to face me. She flinched and moaned, her eyes struggling to focus. I wasn’t sure if it was due to Meister’s hand being all up in her pussy or the hard grip he had on her face. Probably both. “This is the fucking promised land, Carson. All of this is our reward for our service to our race, the service we gave to our country. We can take what we want, when we want.” He smiled. “Watch.” Meister reached to the front of Phebe’s dress and ripped the material open. The scraps fell to the floor, leaving Phebe’s too-thin body exposed. There wasn’t an inch of her that wasn’t marked. “This slut is mine. But she tried to disobey me, tried to fight back, so I’ve been schooling her on how to behave.” He turned Phebe’s mouth to his and bit down on her bottom lip. She cried out, her body jerking. He laughed. “Haven’t I, Phebe? Showing you who the fuck you belong to, in the dentist shack?” His face morphed into a strict expression. “Who do you belong to?” he demanded. Every one of my muscles tensed when she said softly, as if by rote, “Meister.” “Good girl.” He pushed her to her feet. “So show me.” He leaned forward. “Show me how much you love me.” Phebe got up from his lap and turned to face him, a fucking puppet on a string. She leaned forward, her ass in the air. I gripped the arms of my chair, almost ripping the fucking wood clean off when I saw that he’d been teaching her lessons, all right. In every fucking orifice. Phebe pushed her tits into Meister’s face and, even under all the drugs, became a fucking seductress before my eyes. Her body rolled as she pressed her bare skin over Meister’s chest, her hands braced on the arms of the chair. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her as she fed her nipple into Meister’s mouth, clutching
the back of his head as he sucked hard, and she moaned like she was lapping up that shit. And then she was sliding to her knees, the palms of her hands running up Meister’s thighs. The asshole’s eyes were glazed, half from whiskey and half from the sight of his plaything on her knees, mouth lowering toward his crotch. Her shaking hands began undoing his belt, then the buttons on his jeans. I looked around the room to see fuckers jerking off as they watched her. Others were fucking their sluts for the night. It looked like Saturday at the fucking Hangmen. At least the club sluts chose to get their pussies smashed by me and my brothers. My eyes met Viking’s and Cowboy’s. I saw the fire in their eyes. Fire and disbelief. Viking’s hands were in fists on his lap, and Cowboy’s foot was twitching. The brothers were one step from launching into this fucker and taking him out. A choked sound pulled my attention back to Meister and Phebe. Meister’s head was rolled back, his cock in Phebe’s hand. And she was bringing it to her mouth. Her back arched and her hips rocked as if she were already fucking him. The bitch mewled as she swallowed the tip and took the length of the fucker back into her throat. She didn’t gag or even flinch as she deep-throated Meister’s dick. He growled low in his throat, smashing his hand onto her head and fisting the strands. He was rough, practically ripping her hair from her head. But Phebe just sucked harder. I remembered Phebe was bred for this shit in that cult. The prophet whoring her out to attract members. I could see why; the bitch was a fucking siren. Meister’s growls and groans got louder as she took him harder, faster, deeper. Redneck fucks around us cried out as they came. And then Meister snapped, pushed Phebe back off his cock and gripped the top of her arm. He wrenched her to her feet and spun her to face him. Then, wasting no time, he pulled her down to his lap and slammed his cock into her pussy. Phebe cried out, her hands falling to Meister’s shoulders. “Move,” he commanded. Phebe’s hips began grinding on his dick, and his hands reached around to spread her ass apart. He pushed two fingers into her ass. Phebe screamed as he thrust his hips roughly while he took her every hole. My hands curled into fists as he fucked her and fucked her, harder and harder by the second. Until at last he bellowed out a long groan and slammed into her for one final time. Phebe rolled her hips until Meister pulled his fingers out of her ass. Taking the back of her head, he guided her forward and brought her mouth to his. He savaged her mouth as her body twitched. He thrust her back, yanking her off his cock. “Clean it,” he commanded hoarsely, pupils dilated. Phebe dropped to her knees and took his deflated cock into her mouth. Her tongue lapped at his flesh, sucking off his cum. Meister ran his fingers through her hair, like he was patting a damn dog. He pushed her head off his cock, and Phebe got to her feet. Meister sat back, depleted, stuffing himself back into his cargo pants. “Dance,” he ordered lazily, signaling for the jukebox to be turned up. Some generic rock song came blasting out around the bar. Phebe’s hands went into the air, and her lithe body began to sway. I couldn’t stop watching her, mesmerized by the way she moved. She was tall and too thin. But even looking as beat and broken as she was right now, all I could think of was her at that fucking tree. How she’d looked at me that day, her blue eyes slamming into mine, like she could see every fucking thing that was running through my mind. I imagined that version of Phebe dancing, and I knew that if I’d been one of the fuckers she’d seduced at a bar, I’d have been signed up and singing hallelujah with the other cult fucks, just for the chance to nail her again. She spun, facing me, and my breathing stopped. Even strung out on heroin, even starved and raped and captured like a dog, a fucking glimpse of a smile had spread on her lips. The dried blood cracked on her mouth as her eyes closed and her body kept beat to the rhythm. Too focused on watching her lost to the music, I barely saw Meister get called away to speak to Himmler. I just kept watching. Because I couldn’t tear my eyes away. And then, with a heavy sigh, Phebe’s eyes rolled open and collided straight with mine. She stilled. At
first I thought she’d just grown too tired to keep moving . . . but then she blinked, and blinked again, and tears filled her eyes. “You.” Her hoarse voice was almost inaudible over the music. Her tiny body swayed, but this time it hadn’t got shit to do with the music. Her bloodied bottom lip shook, and, on unsteady feet, she stumbled toward me. With every step, her already ashen face paled further. And then the tears fell, one heavy drop at a time, running down her cheek, exposing the freckles that lay underneath the sweat, the blood and the dirt. Her chest rose and fell in quick movements. When she reached me, hand covering her mouth, she sank to her knees to rest at my feet. I looked at Meister; he was still occupied. Viking and Cowboy were watching carefully with fucking confused expressions. Their hands were on their guns, ready for any shit that went down. And then I looked back at Phebe. I stared into her blue eyes. They were still drugged to high heaven. Still unfocused and glassy. Yet, as she knelt at my feet, her tears thick and her breathing labored, I could see right through them. They were fucking begging me for help. “Is . . . is she safe?” she slurred, her once-pretty face contorting in pain as she lurched forward, like that pain was stabbing her straight in the stomach. My eyebrows drew together at her question. Phebe managed to raise her head and place her hand over her heart. “Is she safe? I didn’t save her . . . but is she safe? I want her to be safe.” I swallowed, checking to see that Meister was still deep in conversation with Himmler. I thanked Hades that he was, because I desperately wanted to talk to the bitch, but I had to play this shit right. Phebe shuffled forward until her tits were at my knees. I tensed as she searched my face. Then, with careful, gentle movements, she reached forward, her blistered fingertips reaching for my face. I was frozen as her fingertips grazed my cheeks and ran down my thick stubble. Her eyelids were fighting to stay open, no doubt being pulled down by the drugs. Her hair was sticking to her slick skin. Worst of all, Meister’s cum was running down between her thighs. I could smell the stink of sex coming off her in waves. Yet I still couldn’t breathe as her soft hands touched my face, as those fucking blue, dazed eyes studied me. Then, her eyebrows rose and a smile spread on her lips, and it fucking slaughtered me. The bitch had just been raped, degraded in front of a crowd, and no doubt recently beaten by Meister, yet here she was on her knees at my feet, touching my face, and fucking smiling. I almost pulled out my gun and shot every fucker in here, just for the chance to get her out of this shithole right the fuck now. “You,” she said again, a new lightness in her voice. Her fingers ran over my lips, then up, stopping at my eyes. Her hand curled, framing my eyes, and she released a long, happy sigh. “The one with the kind eyes,” she murmured. Her head tilted to the side like an innocent child. “You would not kill me. I deserved to die, but you would not kill me . . . because you had kind eyes. A devil’s man with angel eyes.” I remembered that fucking night at the commune again. Remembered this bitch stroking Li’s hair and calling her Rebekah. Fucking crying. Fucking breaking. My chest cracked, and I swallowed the lump in my throat . . . the way she looked at Li. I . . . I knew how that felt. That’s why I couldn’t kill the bitch. She . . . in that moment, she was me. Me on that fucking day that never left my head. “The tree.” Phebe’s voice pulled me from my head. I shifted on my seat as she pulled back her hands and held them together in the way I’d tied them. “A devil’s man with angel eyes,” she repeated and began to sob. “Here for me again. To rescue me from hell? To take us . . . ? To make us safe?” She said the sentences as though they were questions; her blue eyes were begging for me to take her from this town, from Meister. Fuck, the way she was looking at
me, beseeching, begging . . . the bitch was asking me to put her out of her misery. Looking just like him. Like— “What the fuck? Whore!” My head snapped up as Meister stormed across the room. I braced, ready for the fight. Meister’s hand gripped Phebe’s hair and yanked her to her feet. Phebe cried out as she stumbled to stand. Then, when she was straight, Meister spun her to face him and sliced a backhand across her face. I had to use everything I had not to fucking charge. But when I looked around, every guard was on edge, hands on guns. None of us would get out alive if we tried. We had to fucking wait. Phebe began crying, sobbing as she lifted her head. Blood ran thick and fast from her lip. Her eyes flooded with tears, yet even after the hard blow Meister dealt, her dazed eyes still sought out mine. And fuck me, but they softened. Like I was making everything better just by being here. I couldn’t deal with that look. “Whore!” Meister snarled as pulled her close to his face. “It seems as though you haven’t learned your lesson just yet, slut.” He shook her violently, her head lolling back and forth. “Then I’ll have to fucking try harder.” Meister turned toward the door, the entire saloon looking on in expectant silence. As he passed me, he looked down and said, “This bitch was a trained whore. Opened her legs for anything that moved. I’m retraining her to be a Klan wife.” As if his own words incensed him, he swiped out and hit her again, her head jerking sideward. “But this slut is hard to break.” He dragged Phebe out of the bar, and before the door closed behind them, I saw him turn left. Toward the dentist shack. I pulled out my smokes, lit one and took a long inhale. Himmler was watching me with suspicious eyes, so I acted calm on the outside, even though in my head I was imagining slitting the throat of every last fucker in the entire place. Over the next ten minutes I finished off my beer, took another shot, then got to my feet. Vike and Cowboy followed me out of the saloon and across the road to the dorms. Vike moved in close to speak, but I hissed, “Not yet. Himmler will be watching from the bar.” “How the fuck do you know that?” “Trust me,” I said as we entered the dorms, keeping the lights off. The minute we hit the hallway, I sneaked a look across the street. “Shit,” Cowboy said. “Fucker’s right there, staring after us.” “He suspects us.” I led them into Flame’s room. The brother was pacing back and forth. I ignored him and locked the door. “We get her out tomorrow,” I said quietly. “If Meister doesn’t kill her tonight first. Himmler’s gonna start digging if we don’t. That fucker smells that we ain’t pure.” I flicked my chin at Cowboy. “Call Hush. Tell him we’re putting a plan together and he needs to be ready to go when I say.” Cowboy pulled his cell from his pocket. He spoke quietly to Hush, then gave a thumbs up and ended the call. “He’s ready.” Pacing too, I ran my hand through my hair. “Tomorrow night, after dark.” Vike and Cowboy nodded. Flame was too fucking lost in his own world to hear. I outlined my plan, and my brothers listened carefully. We all agreed—this was how this shit was gonna go down. The room was quiet. Vike gave me a weird look. “Ain’t sure that bitch can be saved, brother. I ain’t ever seen shit like that before. He’s one fucked-up cunt.” I closed my eyes and tried not to let the thought of Phebe, of my fucking past, rip me to shreds. I counted to ten in my head. “You might be right.” I slumped to the edge of the bed and looked at Flame, proof that even the most fucked-up souls could be salvaged, somewhat. “But I’ll fucking die trying.” “Always the damn hero,” Viking said humorlessly.
Hero? Fucking far from it. Just didn’t have it in me to watch one more person die under someone else’s hand. So I’d take on Meister and his Klansmen tomorrow night. We’d deal with the rest after that. Even if she was already completely fucked.
Chapter Five
Phebe
The street rushed past me. I struggled to open my eyes. So I gave in to the dark. I gave in to the dark and let a pair of kind eyes watch over me. An angel disguised as a devil. A door opened. Then it closed. I was pushed onto a surface that I recognized. My legs were parted. A needle pricked my arm. Then liquid light passed through my veins as I felt my cheek being struck and my core being savaged. But I did not care. I blinked in the soft glow of the warm sun. When I viewed my surroundings, I smiled. I was back in the forest. The breeze was cool, running through my hair. I sat on the grass, my hands running through the soft blades. I closed my eyes, simply relaxing, then I felt the air disturb around me. Someone sat down by my side. Opening my eyes, I looked to my right. I smiled wider, inhaling the comforting scent of leather. “You?” I said on a happy sigh. The devil with angel eyes nodded his head and rested his arms on his bent knees. “Me,” he said, and the corner of his mouth kicked up at the sides. I studied his features. I studied his long brown hair, a few strands seeming almost caramel in color when they caught the sun. His skin was tanned, his body tall and muscular. But his eyes were my favorite. So deep a brown I could lose myself in their depths for days. He pointed around the forest. “You like this place?” I followed his hand. Looked up at the high trees, heard the flowing river beyond the clearing. “It is where I come to leave it all behind. This—” I inhaled the fragrant air. “—this is my heaven.” He turned to me, searching for something in my face. He did not speak, so I did. “You are here for me?” I asked, my breath held in hope. “Gonna get you out,” he rasped, and I saw the conviction of his promise in his eyes. Tension left my body, and I had the feeling that I was floating. A hand covering mine suddenly became my anchor. Body back on the soft grass, I stared down at his tattooed hand resting atop mine. I fought back the tears that were pricking my eyes at his gentle touch. This man was gentle and kind. He was . . . “An angel,” I whispered and lifted my eyes to meet his. “You are my angel,” I said. His lips parted. They were full, kind lips. “You are an angel here to save me. You spared my life once before, and you have returned to do so again.” Seconds stretched, only the sound of the flowing water to be heard. Then, “Yeah.” He gripped my fingers tightly. “I’m here to get you, Phebe. To take you from this hell. You just gotta hold on for tonight. Just fucking hold on.” “Very well,” I said. I held on to the angel’s hand when he tried to pull it away. The angel frowned at me in confusion. “Tonight may be hard,” I said and felt the echo of pain being brought to my body in some other place. Squeezing tighter, I asked, “Could you stay with me through this? Just for tonight? I . . . I may need you . . .” The angel’s eyes softened, and he nodded his head. “Always,” he said and shifted closer to me. I laid my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. A foreign sense of safety engulfed me in its warmth. “Just fucking hold on, yeah? Just for tonight.” I breathed. I smiled. It was exactly what I intended to do.
Chapter Six
AK
I sat on the edge of the mattress in the barber shack, counting down the minutes. My leg bounced as the bitch behind me made quiet noises of pain. I blocked her out. I had only one mission tonight. And we were seconds from it going down. I checked my watch. Then . . . A bell sounded. My heart fired like an Uzi. I clutched my gun and peered through the barred window. Guards and men ran from their shacks and barns. A gunshot rang out, and I looked to the main exit. I fucking froze. “Hush,” I hissed. What the fuck was the suicidal fucker doing? Arms spread wide, he shouted in his thick Cajun accent, “My mama’s white and my papa is black. I’m your worst fucking nightmare, so why don’t y’all come get me and my massive interracial cock!” The asshole took off running. Guns fired, and men ran after Hush. I saw guard after guard abandon his post, like good little Klansmen after a black. When the guard opposite the dentist shack took off, there was a rap on my door. Vike was there, ushering me outside. “He went with them,” Vike said. Meister. The fucker had taken the bait. Flame came running from the back of the shack and dove on a redneck that had been late in stopping his fucking. He sliced the cunt’s throat and slit stripes down his femoral artery. The asshole fell. Vike pushed me forward. “Get her. We got minutes. We’ll get anyone that’s left behind.” I darted to the next-door shack and peered through the window. I struggled to see through the thick layer of dust and dirt. But someone was in there, lying deathly still in a chair. I slammed my shoulder into the door, the old wood folding immediately. I rushed inside the small room and stopped dead. Phebe slumped, beaten to a pulp, on an old-fashioned dentist chair. She was naked, and the blood was fresh. An IV of heroin or some shit was attached to her arm. I ripped out the needle, ignoring the small spray of blood that followed, and scooped Phebe up in my arms. She released a low moan but didn’t wake. She weighed practically nothing. As I left the shack I saw five bodies in the middle of the road. “Think we got ’em,” Vike said as Cowboy and Flame came to stand beside me. Phebe moaned in my arms. “Fucking state,” Cowboy said as he looked at Phebe’s body. Bitch was naked, and I had nothing with me to cover her up. I eyeballed Cowboy until he looked away. “Tree line, up ahead, that’s where he left the van,” I said and started moving. I had barely made it three steps before I heard a gun click and several sets of feet crunch on the rough ground. I froze and snapped my head to the right. Fucking Himmler, along with two assholes with guns aimed right at our heads. “Knew there was something up with you cunts the minute you walked in this place,” Himmler said, tightening his hold on his gun. Flame and Cowboy stiffened beside me. I gripped Phebe tighter in my arms. Himmler’s eyes fell on Red. “Meister ain’t gonna take kindly to you trying to steal his slut, fucker. He won’t give a fuck if you were a sniper or can kill from yards away.” He stepped closer, and closer still, until the barrel of his gun pressed against my forehead. He smiled, and I braced to strike. His head cocked to the side. “Why’re you here? You ain’t Klan or AB. If you were, you’d be joining the cause, not stealing from it.”
“Black-lovers dot com,” Vike said from behind me. “Might have heard of us. Whites who just love fucking blacks. Pussy, cock, you name it. We’re all over that chocolate shit.” Himmler snarled at Vike’s lame-ass joke, but it gave me the split second I needed to attack. I slammed my hand on the barrel of Himmler’s gun, knocking it from my head. I dropped down and laid Phebe on the ground as Vike, Flame and Cowboy jumped on the other pricks. Guns went off, sounding like fucking thunder in the empty ghost town. I pushed Himmler back, and we fell to the ground. The fucker fought me for the gun. But I held on and slammed my forehead against his. Himmler cried out. I heard the gargled sound of someone choking on blood. I looked to the side to see Flame straddling one of the men, his chest covered in blood, his knives slinging into the Klansmen’s flesh. A blow hit my mouth, drawing blood from my lip, and I saw red. I dropped my fist and plowed it into Himmler’s face. Wrenching the gun from his hand, I swerved the piece with one smooth movement and pressed it against his throat. The fucker met my eyes, and I smiled. I smiled as I sent a bullet through his skull, splattering his brains on this fucking messed-up ground. I shot again, through his chin this time, watching the asshole’s jaw blow off. I thought of Phebe and the other sluts in this place and shot again, and again, lost in the sea of blood, until someone pulled me back and I hit the ground. I aimed the gun at whoever it was, and saw Cowboy stand back with his hands in the air. “You got him. ’K. And we gotta fucking go. Now. Those shots will have the rest of these fuckers back in seconds.” Shaking my head back to the here and now, I threw the gun to the ground and scrambled for Phebe. Her naked body was spattered with blood. I lifted her up and looked at my brothers. Flame’s face was awash with blood, and his black eyes were crazed. “Move, now.” I ordered. We left the hacked-up fuckers on the ground and fled into the trees. Not stopping for my brothers, knowing they’d follow, I aimed for the path that ran toward the road. Branches and twigs smacked at my face as we ran. Ten minutes later, we arrived at the van Hush had left for us. Vike and Flame jumped into the cabin and hit the engine. I got in the back, as did Cowboy. “Where the fuck is he?” Cowboy asked in panic, his eyes scanning the abandoned back road. “More like what the fuck was he thinking?” I snapped, thinking of Hush taking all those fuckers head on. Asshole. Cowboy balled his fist and punched the side of the van. Phebe flinched in my arms. At least she wasn’t so far gone on drugs she couldn’t react to shit. Maybe she’d be okay. At least physically. I grabbed the blanket that was in the back of the van and wrapped it around her naked body. Phebe moaned again, and her eyes rolled, but she still didn’t wake up. Christ knows what cocktail Meister had had her on. “There!” Vike’s voice shouted from the cabin. I looked out of the open doors and saw Hush sprinting toward us. The fucker was lucky he was fast. He signaled for us to start moving. Cowboy hung from the back and clutched Hush’s hand, pulling him inside. They slammed the doors behind him, and we sped off. I kept my gun in my hand, just in case. “What the fuck was that?” Cowboy snapped. He hovered over Hush, fucking pissed. “What?” Hush snapped back, his expression darkening. “The massive-interracial-cock taunt, you asshole. You were meant to set off an explosive, not offer yourself up for a fucking lynching,” I bit out. Hush ignored me and bored holes into Cowboy’s face. “You think after all those Klan fuckers have done to me, to my family, that I was just gonna distract them with an explosive? Fuck that shit. I wanted those fuckers to see my impure ass. I wanted them to seethe.” “Well, job done, fucker.” Cowboy slid down to sit on the opposite side of the van. “You wanted them to
seethe? Wait until Meister returns to see his second-in-command missing a face and skull.” No one said shit as Viking drove us like lightning back to the compound. Until Hush shook his head and said, “Shit. That’s Phebe? Li’s sister?” “What’s left of her.” I motioned to Cowboy. “Get Prophet Dipshit on your cell. He’s needed at my cabin now. And tell the fucker it ain’t a fucking request.” Cowboy did as I asked. I kept my gaze straight forward, staring at the side of the van. Until I felt someone watching me. When I looked down, Phebe’s bruised eyes were cracked open. I tensed when my gaze met hers. “Vike, take the back roads home and kill the lights. They’ll be swarming the main roads in minutes. This shit ain’t over until we get through the compound’s gates.” I kept my eyes on Phebe’s face, and that small smile she kept wearing around me pulled on her lips. My heart ripped right down the fucking center. In her fucked, raspy voice, she said, “Safe . . .” Her eyes closed a second later, but I didn’t stop staring down at her. I couldn’t look away. Even when the van came to a stop, I struggled to break my stare. Safe, she’d said. Whatever the fuck that meant to her.
*****
When the van doors opened at my cabin, I held Phebe close to my chest and stepped out into the breeze. She moaned in my arms as the wind lapped her broken skin. Rider stood near the cabin with his medical bag in his hand. Lil’ Ash was standing in front of Flame’s door, and I could see Maddie in the window, trying to look on. Flame marched straight to Ash, then through his cabin door. I walked on to mine, only glancing at the now shaven-headed prophet to say, “Follow me.” I went straight through to my bedroom and laid Phebe down on the freshly made bed. Phebe moaned, back arched, when I stepped back. Her red eyebrows were furrowed, and her legs became restless. Here we fucking go. I watched as the fingers on her left hand searched for the marks on her right. The fingernails began scratching, looking for the injection of heroin. “Can I . . .?” a voice asked from behind me. I looked back at Rider in the doorway. But the prick’s eyes weren’t even on me; they were on Phebe. “Go ahead.” I stepped back. “Shit,” Rider muttered under his breath as he dropped to his knees and opened his bag. He winced as he took in her injuries. The hand that was running over Phebe’s arms and legs stopped mid-air and clenched into a fist. “I’m sorry,” Rider said to Phebe. If I wasn’t mistaken, the asshole’s voice cracked. His head dropped and shook from side to side. “I’m so fucking sorry.” My eyes narrowed, watching him with her, and my chest tightened at how he spoke to her. I knew he knew her. I knew his psycho twin was fucking her for the longest time. But I didn’t like how close Rider was to her. Some damn stabbing in my chest didn’t like how familiar he was with her. “She’s been raped and beaten. Don’t know for how long.” Rider turned his head to listen to me, and I swear the fucker wiped his eyes. “She’s on smack too. Meister cunt keeps all the girls on that shit.” Switching from friend to doctor, Rider stood and began checking all Phebe’s cuts. “I need towels and water. We’ve gotta clean her up.” Footsteps sounded from the hallway. I looked over; Ash was already gathering what Rider had asked for. I hadn’t even seen the kid was there. When he came back, I raised my eyebrow in question. “Thought you might need me,” he said.
I ruffled the kid’s dark hair and took the water from him. I put it down beside Rider, and Ash handed over the towels. “Wait in the kitchen, kid,” I ordered. I watched as Rider cleaned Phebe and began stitching her up. He moved to her pussy and the damage that’d been done there. I tensed. To be fair to Prophet Prick, the fucker was clinical and kinda fucking professional. But watching him near her cunt had me almost murdering mad. So I focused on Phebe’s face, on her eyes, which kept rolling open and closed. Her lips parted, and her tongue ran along her cracked flesh. “She needs water,” Rider said as he stitched along a slash on her thigh. Teeth gritted, I stormed to the kitchen and past Ash, who was sitting at the table. I got a clean glass and filled it with water. When I went back to the bedroom, I held it out for Rider. The ex-brother looked at my hand. “You’ll have to do it. I have to close these cuts so they don’t get infected.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened them again, I moved to the head of the bed and sat on the edge. Phebe groaned and rolled her head in my direction. Her eyes opened, and her fucking blue gaze landed straight on me. Her lips twitched; my body tensed, wondering if the bitch was gonna try and smile at me again. But she gasped with thirst, so I gently pushed my hand around the back of her head and tilted her neck. Phebe’s rail-thin body was as light as a feather. She made pained sounds as I moved her, but all the time her glazed eyes never left mine. I swallowed back a fucking lump that was making its way up my throat. And fuck me, but my hand holding the glass was shaking. I shut my eyes and ordered myself to get my shit together. But before I could, I was thrust back there. I felt the sweat run down the back of my neck. I felt the dry air filling my lungs. I felt the dirt floor beneath my knees and felt his hand in my hand as I gripped onto him hard. I felt the fucking tears building under my closed lids as I smelled him— the blood, piss and shit from days and days of torture. “AK,” a deep voice said, slicing through my mind. I tried to pull myself back, but I was fucking trapped. My heart slammed against my rib cage so hard I was sure my ribs were about to snap. Then a long female moan took hold of my brain and fucking smashed through the memory. I blinked and cleared the water from my eyes. Blue eyes were still looking up at me. But it wasn’t the eyes that had brought me back, it was knowing I was with Phebe. It was the feel of her bony fingers gripping my wrist with all the strength of a flea. Her hand was shaking, but she was trying to bring the glass of water in my hand to her mouth. With a deep inhale, I slowly lifted the glass to her mouth and watched intently as she drank. She coughed as she tried to swallow too much at once. “Small sips,” Rider said from somewhere beside me. But I couldn’t look away from Phebe. Now her face was clean of grime, blood and whatever other shit she’d been caked with, I saw how she really looked. Her already pale skin was gray. Her cheeks were hollow, and her cheekbones were sharp on her gaunt face. But her fucking freckles were still there. The same damn mass of freckles that had stared at me the day I tied her ass to that fucking tree in the cult’s commune. So many of them that there must have been a million on her cheeks and forehead. And those little fuckers on her nose . . . “That’s enough,” Rider instructed. I pulled back the glass. But I didn’t lower her back down to the bed. I kept her head in my arms. Even as her eyes closed and her breathing shallowed with sleep, I still didn’t let her go. Not until Rider moved into my line of sight. The fucker was watching me with a damn frown on his face. Watching me. Like he had any fucking say about what happened with this bitch going forward. Like a damn brother looking out for his sister. “What?” I snapped and lowered Phebe back down onto the pillow. She looked real fucking strange lying in my bed. Rider didn’t speak for a few seconds, just eyeballed me. He ran a hand over his crew cut. “I’ve patched her up. She was . . .” He gestured to her pussy. “Hurt. He had hurt her, but she will heal.” Rider looked at her arms and the visible track marks. “But we need to get medication to wean her off the heroin.”
As I went to speak, I heard the sound of the front door opening, and footsteps came hurrying down the hallway. Ky came into my room, Styx behind him. Ky looked at the bed. I stood and moved out of the way to let him see Phebe, gritting my teeth when I remembered she was still naked. I turned around, lifted her thin frame and placed her beneath the comforter. When she was covered, I stepped back and looked at my prez and VP. But they’d already seen the damage. I could tell by the fucking murderous look on Ky’s face. “She gonna live?” he asked coldly. I knew by his tone that the question wasn’t for me. “She will,” Rider replied. He paused, long enough for Ky and Styx to look at him. “But she’s been on heroin, and more, I’d guess.” I felt the air go fucking stone cold around us. Ky’s teeth raked over his lips. The brother was pissed. “They all were,” I added. Ky and Styx looked at me. “The bitches at the ghost town. He had them on IVs of smack and crack and fuck knows what else. All the sluts were out of it.” I glanced back at Phebe. She looked fucking tiny on my mattress. “Christ knows how long she’s been on it.” “A while, I’d say,” Rider said. “Don’t tell Lilah about her being back,” I said to Ky. “She ain’t come through this shit yet.” “She needs medication,” Rider went on. “To get her off the heroin, and—” “And I need y’all to get the fuck out.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “What?” Ky said harshly. Styx stepped forward, his bulky chest puffing out at my shitty attitude. “I need y’all to get the fuck out of my cabin.” My jaw clenched. Ky eyeballed me. “You got an issue, brother?” Ky inquired, no doubt wondering what the fuck was going down. “Bitch needs to get off that shit in her veins. So I’m gonna watch her until it’s gone. And for that I need everyone else to fuck off.” “Cold turkey?” Rider said, sounding panicked. “There’re better ways. We can wean her off with medication, make it less painful for her. Fuck, she deserves it after what she’s been through.” “My way will only take days. So get the fuck out.” I addressed Ky and Styx directly. “I’ll call when she’s through it.” Styx’s eyes went to Phebe on the bed. Lifting his hands he signed, “You ain’t gotta do this. Bitch ain’t your concern.” “Want to . . . have to” Before I could see the unwanted fucking sympathy on Styx’s and Ky’s faces, I turned and went to my closet. I pulled out a black Hangmen tank and a pair of boxer shorts. Without looking back, I said, “So get out. I’ll call when it’s done.” I knew they didn’t leave immediately, but I also didn’t turn around until they were gone. When they were, I stood at the end of the bed and stared down at Phebe. She looked so damn peaceful, but I knew in a matter of hours, when the craving came calling, there weren’t no peace for her to have for days. I gripped the tank and boxers tighter in my fists and fought the fucking pit that was trying to form in my stomach. Phebe flinched in her sleep. I made my way toward her and drew back the covers. I stared at her emaciated body and imagined what she’d look like filled out and healthy. Shit. I knew, like that, she’d be the best fucking bitch I’d ever seen. I imagined her skin free of gashes and track marks, the color of milk. And a smile on those lips that was due to being free from the shit in her veins and not from some misplaced gratitude for being saved from a sex-trafficking ring. Forcing myself to move, I slipped the tank over her head. Hades smiled up at me with his Uzi and noose in his hands. My tank hung to the middle of her thighs. I slipped my black boxers over her legs and pulled the cover back over her. Vike and Flame were watching me from the doorway. “You ain’t gotta do this shit, ’K,” Vike said. “Leave it to someone else.” “I can do it.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
Flame, for once, was fucking still, and I knew the brother was worried when his black gaze held mine without looking away. “Give her to someone else,” he growled. I shook my head. “I got this,” I said. Flame shook his head like he was ready to argue. “Flame,” I pushed, then added, “I got you through your shit, right? When we got you out of that nuthouse?” Flame’s nostrils flared and the cords in his neck bulged at the memory. “I can do this for her too.” I ran my hand through my hair. “I . . . fuck, I gotta do this for her too.” Vike tipped the back of his head against the doorframe in exasperation. Flame looked at Phebe on the bed, and his eyes narrowed slightly. I could tell he was seeing himself on that mattress. He turned on his heel and left my cabin. I knew that was the brother letting go of his protest shit. “You ain’t always gotta be the one to do this for people, you know?” Vike said. I looked at my oldest friend but didn’t say shit. We had very different views on that point. “It ain’t gonna change the past.” I put my hand in the air and cut that shit off quick. “Don’t,” I warned. “Don’t fucking go there, Vike. I mean it.” Vike eyeballed me, but he dropped it. He turned to go. “What’s with you and this bitch? Why d’you even give a fuck?” I didn’t answer. Mainly because I didn’t know myself. I just needed her to be better. That’s all I allowed myself to accept. “I need you to take the kid for a few days,” I said instead. “Flame needs time with Madds alone. He ain’t right after the ghost town. Don’t wanna put Ash in that path.” Vike nodded. “And don’t be a dick to him.” Vike gave me a shitty salute. He left the cabin, and I knocked on Ash’s room door. “Yeah?” he called out. I opened the door. Ash was sitting on his bed. “Gonna need you to stay with Vike for a few days, kid.” Ash stared at me, his black hair a damn mess on his head. “Okay.” He got to his feet and started packing a bag. He waited until he was almost done to ask, “This has to do with the bitch in your room?” I smirked. “Bitch, Ash? Careful, you might actually start sounding like a true Hangman soon.” His face lit on fire with embarrassment. “Y’all say bitch, so now I do too. It ain’t bad to say that here. You only ever say it about chicks y’all like.” I nodded, then answered his original question. “But yeah, kid, it has to do with the bitch in my room. And it ain’t gonna be pretty.” He moved to leave. As he passed me, I grabbed his arm. “You need anything, you go to Vike, Flame or Madds, yeah?” He nodded and left. I locked my door, then gathered all the shit I knew would be needed over the coming hours. I took a shower and dressed in just a pair of jeans, raking my still-wet hair from my face. Then I pulled a chair to my bedroom and sat down at the end of the bed. And I waited. I waited for the detox to begin. Trying not to let the déjà vu from my past enter my head. Who was I kidding? There was no fucking chance of that. So I let my torture begin too. Blood. Blood, and a fuck-ton of bodies surrounded us. And he was gone. Devin was fucking gone . . .
Chapter Seven
Phebe
“Phebe,” my father called. I ran from my bedroom and into the living room. A man was sitting on the couch. The man was dressed in white and had the blondest hair I had ever seen. Well, except for one other. My Rebekah. But she had gone now. Gone to the prophet’s home to rid the devil from her soul. Soon she would be free from evil, and I would have my best friend and sister back again. I was counting the days. “Phebe,” my father said. “This is Brother John.” “Hello sir,” I said and bowed low. When I had straightened, my father beamed at me. I smiled. Brother John rose from the couch and came toward me. He stopped just a few inches away, lifted his hand and placed his fingers under my chin. I looked into his blue eyes as he searched my face. He was smiling at me kindly; I smiled back at him. That seemed to please Brother John, because he nodded and spoke to my father. “She is beautiful. She will make a good Sacred Sister.” Brother John untied my headdress and pushed it back. My long hair was tied back off my face. He withdrew the pins that held it in place and let it fall around me. It fell all the way to my waist. “Beautiful,” he said again and ran his fingers through the strands. “Tell me, Phebe,” Brother John asked. “How old are you?” “I am ten years old, sir.” “Perfect,” he replied. “And have you yet received your first touch?” I glanced to my father, who nodded for me to answer. “Yes, sir.” “She has not been fully broken in, but she has been explored by a brother I am close to, since she was very young. She has the necessary experience.” My heart beat fast as I remembered Brother Abel. The first time I had lain on my bed as he came into my room and removed my clothes. And then he had touched me. He whispered scripture in my ear as his fingers explored my flesh. And then he told me to touch him too. He came back often and did the same things, sometimes more. My father had told me it was God’s will. “Phebe,” Brother John said, and I blinked. “The prophet has requested you for a special position in our commune.” Happiness raced through my body, and I smiled with excitement. “Me? The prophet knows who I am?” “Yes.” Brother John stroked his finger down my face. “And you are to become a very special girl to him and all of the brothers in our faith.” “I am?” “Yes. You are to become a Sacred Sister. Do you know what that is?” “No, sir.” “It is one of the most important positions in all of Prophet David’s kingdoms.” I swallowed hard as Brother John slipped his hand into mine. “Come, child. You will stay with me across the commune in a very special place.” I glanced across at my father, and he smiled so big at me. I felt nothing but pride as Brother John led me from my home. Brothers and sisters that I passed waved at me in congratulation. All the time, I thought of our prophet and how lucky I was to have been chosen for a special position. I would not let him down . . .
My eyes rolled open as a slice of pain cut through my stomach. The light in the room stabbed my eyes, and I called out as its brightness caused my head to ache. I lifted my hands to my head and tried to stop the throbbing that was beating in my brain. Sweat coated my palms, and I felt my stomach rolling and rolling until . . . I leaned over the edge of the bed to the bucket beside me and purged. I heaved over and over, the awful memory of my youth still playing on repeat in my mind. When there was nothing left to bring up, when the retches became dry coughs, I tried to clear my head from the fog. I was tired, so tired. Then two hands were around my arms, lifting me back to the wet mattress. I shifted my body and felt my legs stick to the linen beneath. “Fuck,” someone growled. My heart ceased to beat. I was sure I would look up and find Meister. I did not want Meister. I never had. I shut my eyes as I was deposited somewhere and heard someone rushing about the room. I tried to move, but when I did I cried out in agony. My muscles, every single one of my muscles felt on fire, only they were burning me from the inside. My hand moved down my arm, only to stop at the middle. My skin scraped the flesh as I silently searched for the answer to what I needed. The potion . . . I needed the potion. “None here, Red. Just gonna have to ride through this shit with me.” A deep voice was near my ear, then I was in someone’s arms. Only these arms did not feel like Meister’s, this male did not smell like him. He smelled of smoke, leather and gunpowder. I was lowered back down to the bed, and then someone sat beside me. I cracked my eyes open, but my vision was blurred. I blinked until it was clear. A gentle hand cupped the back of my head and a glass was brought to my lips. Cool water entered my mouth; it felt like razor blades as I swallowed. I drained the glass, then a second. When I wanted a third, the deep voice said, “No.” I reached out, trying to bring the water back, but he stood and walked away. I tried to focus on his retreating back, and all I saw was the devil, laughing at me. Fear seized me, and screams poured from my mouth. When he came back, my voice stopped in my throat. I watched his dark eyes as they met mine. He had a small beard and his hair was long, like the brothers in the commune, but he was not one. I knew he was not one. He kneeled beside me and pushed my hair from my forehead. “I need . . .” I gasped as pain slammed though me, bending my back. My fingernails scraped along the already broken skin on my arms. “Potion,” I begged. “I need the potion.” He shook his head. “No potion, Red. Not anymore.” Tears tracked down my cheeks. Things began to move around the room. People entered, shadows at first, then . . . “Rebekah,” I cried. She was rocking in the corner, bleeding, burned from the fire on Perdition Hill. “No!” I tried to move, but someone was holding me down. “You did this,” she said in her beautiful voice. Blood replaced her tears and marked her perfect skin. “I did not know,” I cried. “I believed them when they told me you were devil-created.” I sobbed; I sobbed so hard that my throat felt clawed and raw. Then there was movement to the right. I screamed out in agony when I saw her move beside Rebekah. Sapphira’s brown eyes stared at me, and she held out her hand. Her bottom lip wobbled, and tears fell down her cheeks. I reached back for her, but I could not touch her. I was too far away. I could never get to her. People were always holding me back. “You never told me,” she said sadly. My stomach clenched again. “I could not.” I watched as blood began to pour from her nose and mouth. “They would never let me.” My throat was raw from crying. “If I did well, they would let me see you, but they would never let me talk to of such things. They would never let me tell you.” “You let them hurt me.” She pointed to the bruises on her arms, on her legs. She lifted her dress up
her thighs and exposed the handprints, the marks . . . the tattoo. “You are safe now. He sent you from the commune. You are safe.” “Think.” She stepped closer to the bed. When she came into the light, my heart tore in two. “Remember,” she begged. Her long blond hair fell limply to her waist, and her brown eyes were sunken and sad. “Remember what?” Sapphira shook her head and stood beside Rebekah. They held hands. I wanted nothing more than to run to them, to join them, whether that be in heaven or hell. But a male held me down. “Do you see them?” I cried, my salty tears stinging my eyes. “They are hurt, they need me to save them! Sapphira . . . she is only fourteen. She is hurt!” “It is too late,” Rebekah said, and I froze. Sapphira turned her head from me, robbing me of her beautiful face. “No . . . ” “They’re not there,” the male said into my ear. “No!” I screamed back, but his incredible strength held me down. “Push through it. They ain’t there. There’s just you and me in this room. They’re in your head.” “You lie,” I sobbed and slumped against his hold. My head sank into the pillow as another wave of hellfire took command of my muscles. I gritted my teeth and tried to cope with the pain. The only relief I found was a cool cloth being placed on my head, momentarily ridding my scalding skin from the mass of sweat there. “Potion,” I begged. “Please . . . just give me Meister’s potion.” “No,” the voice thundered, firm and hard. It came from just above me. I forced my eyes to open. The male’s face slowly swam into view. “You,” I said, and the male stilled. I lifted my hand to his long brown hair and ran my fingertips over the hair covering his upper lip and chin. “Am I still at the tree?” Was I outside, in the fresh air? I tried to smell if I was, to smell the freshness of the grass and the evening air, but I could smell nothing; I could place nothing. All was . . . displaced. “You’re safe,” he said reassuringly and took my hand from his face. I believed he would throw away my touch, like every other male had ever done. But instead, he held my hand in his and squeezed it tightly. His words filtered into my fogged brain. “Safe?” I asked. He dipped his head closer. I looked into his brown eyes, and he nodded. I stopped breathing. His eyes. I knew his eyes . . . “Kind eyes,” I whispered. He sat back, sighing. Bringing his hand to my mouth, I kissed at the skin. “Please.” My eyes fell on Rebekah and Sapphira in the corner. They were still watching me. Only this time, parts of their flesh were breaking away, their hair was falling into the air, and the blood that stained their skin began to pour in rivulets down onto the floor. “You did this,” Rebekah rebuked. “You believed them. You let them hurt us.” “No!” I cried, but it was no good. “The potion,” I pleaded to the male. “You must give me the potion. I cannot take this anymore.” He took a long inhale. When he opened his eyes, they were shining. “You gotta,” he simply said. “You gotta go through this shit to get better.” Rage like nothing I had encountered before built within me, and I pushed his hand away. I spat at his naked devil-painted chest. “Give it to me! I want it!” I slapped my head and pushed the side table beside me. It crashed to the floor. I pointed at my arm and hit at my skin. “Here! Put it in HERE! NOW!” In a flash the male was on me, his huge body pinning my arms down to the mattress. I spat in his face and tried to claw at his arms. My anger was leading me and I let it, as the fire came back, burning every part of me alive. “GIVE IT TO ME!” I yelled. The male stared me down, still saying nothing.
I stared back, screaming demands until my voice cut off and I saw the final remnants of Rebekah and Sapphira fade into the air behind him. My chest caved in as racking tears poured from my eyes. “Please . . . please . . . please . . .” He shook his head. “You’re gonna get through this.” “I want to die,” I said finally, after I didn’t know how long. I had failed. “Let me die.” A whispered request. “Help . . . me die.” The male’s head snapped back as I spoke those words. His grip tightened on my wrist, and he leaned his head in close. “You’re not gonna die. I’m not gonna let another one die. You got me, Red?” His tanned cheeks reddened, and his eyes clouded with darkness. “We’re gonna get you through this. We’ve been here a while already, just a little more time to go. You ain’t getting your smack, and you ain’t gonna die.” So I closed my eyes and let the darkness take me. But it was Meister that I saw. Meister and Judah in New Zion. “Phebe!” Judah called, and I walked toward his seat. I stared at this male pretending to be the prophet and knew his lies. He knew that I knew them too; his eyes, identical to Prophet Cain’s, watched me constantly. Their eyes looked the same, yet Judah’s had always held something different to Cain’s— an innate malice one could not deny. “Prophet Cain.” I dropped to my knees before him. “Rise.” I did as ordered. There was a male I had only seen once before standing beside him. He had attended a recent Lord’s Sharing. To Judah’s right was Sarai, the child who had recently become his consort. “Sister Phebe.” Judah gestured to the shaven-haired male beside him. “This is Meister. He is a very privileged guest here at New Zion. He saw you in the Lord’s Sharing, and quickly became an admirer of your . . . talents.” Judah’s stare bored into mine, and I understood perfectly what he wanted me to do. “I understand, Prophet Cain.” I walked toward Meister. With each step I concentrated on everything I had ever been taught. My hips swayed seductively as I climbed the stairs to where they stood. I dipped my head and glanced up at him through hooded eyes. I flicked my hair to the side and let it swish against my waist. And then I was before him. “Sir,” I said in a husky voice. “Come. I would like to show you how we honor our guests.” Meister slipped his hand in mine, and I led him from the prophet’s house to my chambers. I offered him a place at the end of my bed and stood before him. Without breaking eye contact, I moved my hair from my shoulders and raised my hand to slip off the sleeves of my garment. Meister became hard under his jeans; the bared muscles of his arms and neck tensed and bulged as the material fell from my body, leaving me exposed. I walked forward, slow enough for him to savor my body, but quick enough to make him pant for my touch. “Fuck me,” he said as I stopped before him and ran my hands up his arms. Strange markings were painted on his skin, unlike any I had ever seen before. Some bright, some horrifying. I lifted his shirt over his head and bared his body to my eyes. Still looking into his eyes, I slipped my breasts down the skin on his chest and found my mouth at his nipples. I lapped at the flesh with the tip of my tongue, feeling the bead harden under my touch. He hissed as I grazed my teeth over the raised skin. His hand moved to my hair, and, suddenly, I was being wrenched to the mattress. I called out as I slammed against the bed. Meister was on his feet, undoing his pants with fast-working hands. His blue eyes were lit with ardor. His strong hands pulled down his pants, freeing his thick length. Using the training that had been ingrained in me since the age of ten, I reached forward and pulled him closer by
his muscled hips. His length was hard and ready, so without pausing, I wrapped my lips around him. I was slow at first, teasing and tantalizing, but Meister’s hard hand clutched at my hair. Without warning, he thrust himself inside my mouth until I gagged. I swallowed every thrust he gave, ignoring the tears running down my cheeks. And then Meister was out of my mouth and pushing me onto my back. “Like it rough, do you, whore?” he snarled. Fear settled into my bones. I had seduced hundreds upon hundreds of males. Some were rougher than others—I was prepared for all—but the glint in Meister’s eyes unnerved me more than anyone I had ever met. Even Judah. Meister covered my body and split apart my legs with his strong hands. I cried out in surprise as he did so, but it only brought a smile to Meister’s lips. “Do you like that, whore? Like that I can take what I want from you and you can do nothing to fight me off?” My lip shook as I prepared myself for he was about to do. And then I remembered my training and what was expected of me as a Sacred Sister. “Yes, sir,” I replied. “I want you to overpower me. To take me against my will.” Lifting my mouth to Meister’s ear, I licked along the lobe and whispered, “I want you to own me.” That was all it took for Meister to snap. He threw me down to the mattress and roughly slammed himself inside me. I stared up at the ceiling as he rammed himself into me over and over again. My hands ran over his back, and I let him savage my mouth with his own, biting on my lip to draw blood. Because that was my role in this life. To pleasure the males associated with the prophet and the faith. And I was good at it. The most decorated Sacred Sister. Meister roared his release into my ear and smothered me with his sweat-soaked body. I closed my eyes.
*****
I gasped awake. After many seconds, the room swam into focus. I was familiar with this room now. I tried moving my arms and legs. They still ached, but today it was less. I drew in a long inhale and allowed my lungs the freedom of my chest. It hurt when I filled them to capacity, but not to the extent it had the last time I had awoken. I had no idea how long I had been in this room. I remembered purging. I remembered crying. And I remembered the anger. But now I felt calmer. The images of Rebekah and Sapphira were a distant memory. Even now, as I stared at the spot they had been occupying for too many hours to count, I saw only a wooden wall and the remnants of a smashed dresser. I glanced about the room, and then I saw him. He was watching me. Every time I had woken up—at least lately, in the times I could recall—he had been there. He bore scratches on his skin and bruises on his chest. Yet he had never left me alone. Something in my chest swelled at that knowledge. I refused to believe it was my heart, as I was not sure it was still there, it had been broken so many times. But I thought perhaps it was gratitude. I did not know. But this man, the man with the kind eyes, had stayed with me. He had rid me of Meister’s potion. I shifted on the mattress. My dry tongue rolled around my dusty mouth. Before I could even move, the man was walking across the room. As he came closer, I saw deep, dark circles under his eyes, and the roughness of the skin on his face. I wondered if he had slept at all in the time I had been here. I tried to recall where I had come from, but all I could see was Meister and the dark room in which he kept me. And the potion he gave me. That stood out the most. It was all I could think about. The man sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the glass of water I had been searching for. He swallowed as he leaned his naked torso over me and cupped the back of my head. Gentler than I could
have imagined, he lifted my head and brought the glass to my mouth. I closed my eyes as the liquid lubricated my dry throat. I took gulp after gulp until the glass was drained. When he laid me back on the pillow, I kept my gaze on him. He dropped his head, breaking eye contact, and asked in a hoarse voice, “How’re you feeling?” His deep timbre settled within me, and I watched as he raked his hair back from his face. I shifted on the bed, mortification cutting through me when I felt wetness under me, when I smelled the stench of my body’s waste. Tears pricked my eyes in embarrassment, and I tried to get out of the bed. But the male’s arms were immediately on my shoulders, keeping me in place. “Don’t fucking be embarrassed about jack shit, right?” I swallowed back the burgeoning lump in my throat. “You feeling okay?” he repeated, this time not removing his eyes from me for a single moment. I took in a shaky breath. “I . . . I am feeling much better . . . I think . . .” The male’s shoulders relaxed, as though my answer was the good news he had been hoping for. “I . . .” I ducked my head, my cheeks blazing with embarrassment. “I am unclean. I . . .” I brushed away the droplet that had fallen from my eye. “I wish to bathe . . . if that is okay with you?” I felt the weight of his heavy gaze on me. “Yeah,” he said finally and got up from the bed. He walked out of the room, and I heard the sound of water running next door. I moved to the end of the bed, clenching my teeth at the incredible effort it took to do so. I noticed I was wearing strange clothes that hung from my body. When I looked at my hands, I saw nothing but bones and blue veins. The skin on my arms was marked with red welts and raised scabs. I sucked on my bottom lip to stop it trembling. Using the wall beside me, I pushed myself to stand. My legs shook. I looked down, but had to close my eyes and look away when I saw that all of the flesh had wasted away from my bones. I opened my eyes at the sound of someone entering the room. The male was staring at me, running his gaze down my too-thin, ruined body. I wanted to cover myself with my arms, but I could not move. The hand that hung by his side clenched into a fist. Taking a deep breath, I forced my leg to move. Just a single, small step felt like climbing the highest of mountains. My breath became labored, and sweat broke out on my already hot skin. Yet I pushed forward. I needed to be clean. I had seen what I had done to the linen I had been lying on. Humiliation acted as the perfect incentive to get to the cleansing water. When I reached the male, he held out his arms for me to take. But I shook my head. I would do this alone. I followed the sound of water to a small bathroom. The steam from the shower clung to my skin and acted as a beacon to my weary bones. “Towel is there. I’ll be just down the hall if you need me,” the male said behind me. I did not turn around to reply. “Thank you.” The door shut behind me, and I dropped to sit on the closed toilet seat. I breathed in the steam, giving myself a moment to gather some strength. I looked at the shower—I craved it more than Meister’s potion right now. It took me too many minutes to rid myself of the soiled clothing I had been wearing and even longer to step into the shower. But the second the water hit the top of my head, an onslaught of tiredness and hurt came barreling down upon me. I struggled to keep up with the fog that was clouding my mind. Confusion wrapped around me. How had I come to be here, and where was he? Where had I been, and what had happened to me? Why was I so thin? Where was Meister? The thought of Meister made my legs give way. I tumbled down to the shower’s floor, hitting it with a thud. Fear had taken hold and I could scarcely move. Tears flooded my face and mixed with the water raining from above. Shivers broke along my skin as flashes of Meister tying me down to a chair, hurting me, came slamming into my head. I placed my hands on the sides of the shower and tried to get up, but I could not move. My traitorous muscles had collapsed and left me too weak to move from this spot. I tipped my head to the spray, trying to wash away the feel of Meister on my skin, to cleanse his
memory from my mind. And just as I began to cry harder in frustration, the door to the bathroom opened and the male who had cared for me entered. He darted toward me and bent down, wrapping me in his strong hold. He smelled strongly of smoke. It had not been that strong in the bedroom. “I fell,” I managed to say when I eventually found my voice. “I . . . I could not get back up.” “It’s okay, Red,” he reassured me and took me from the shower. “No!” I protested, managing to add some strength to my voice. “Please.” I stretched out my hand to the shower, yearning to be clean. To feel anything but what I did at present; I felt plagued with dirt, inside and out. In his arms, my body trembled with cold. “You want me to clean you?” he asked. I turned my head into his chest to shield me from embarrassment. “Please . . .” The man took a deep breath, then turned and walked back to the still-running shower. I thought he would stand behind me and guide me as I tried to bathe. I did not expect him to step inside with me, still wearing his pants. He kept me cradled in his arms. He braced my feet on the floor and held me with one arm. With his free hand, he took some shampoo and rubbed it into my scalp. I closed my eyes as he washed away the grime and the dirt. I sighed as his hand ran over my skin, taking away the sweat and stench that I found so abhorrent. Then he guided me as I simply stood under the hot spray. He stayed behind me, a pillar of strength. He never spoke as the last of the suds from the shampoo were rinsed from my body. Not once did he utter a single word, until the water began to cool and he asked softly, “Are you finished?” He switched off the shower and wrapped me in a towel. He sat me back on the closed toilet seat while he dried my hair with a second towel. I sighed as his hands massaged my scalp. And I opened my eyes. I opened my eyes and found myself face to face with this man. He was not looking at me, so focused was he on his task. A wave of something unknown crashed through me when I realized that, in all my life, no man had ever cared for me this way, let alone a complete stranger. An angel. The endearment fluttered through my mind. His dark hair was wet. His pants were sodden, creating a flood at his feet. Mesmerized by this strange, kind soul, this man, I found myself with my hand on his wrist. He froze the second my fingers touched him, but he gently met my gaze. “What . . .” I gulped. “What is your name?” The man’s dark eyes narrowed just a fraction. He withdrew his hands from my hair. “AK.” “AK,” I said softly, feeling the strangeness of his name on my lips. Not knowing what else to do, I brought his wrist to my mouth and pressed a single grateful kiss to his pulse. I felt it speed up beneath my lips and heard his sudden intake of breath. “We have met before, have we not?” He glanced away. “Once.” “The tree,” I said. He nodded in confirmation. A sudden rush of emotion swept into my heart. “You helped save my Rebekah.” I winced as I fought back tears. Then I remembered his eyes, his hair and his smell so close to mine. “You spared my life when you could have destroyed me.” Sighing, he reluctantly looked at me. “You hadn’t done shit wrong.” His words were not a balm, rather a heavy metal spike piercing my conscience. “That is debatable,” I replied. He studied me, his dark eyes assessing. I swallowed hard under his close attention. I opened my mouth to speak. But the words did not come. I could not verbalize my shame, my utter guilt at being the sister who ensured that Rebekah, from a young age, became the devil-girl all in the commune believed her to be. In truth, I was the devil’s girl. I allowed men to hurt a child; even worse, I encouraged Rebekah to believe she was evil herself. What she must have thought of me . . . “She’s here.” The blood that ran smoothly through my body became a rushing torrent. I stared at AK. He met my eyes
and nodded gently. “R-Rebekah?” I managed to stutter, certain I had misheard. “Lilah.” AK stepped back. “Your sister. She’s here. She lives here.” AK held out his hand for me to take. He wanted me to get to my feet. But it was impossible. A million emotions ran through my mind as his words sank in. She was here? Here in this place? “The devil’s men,” I said, my voice cracking. AK’s eyebrows pulled down. “We’re the Hades Hangmen. And your sister belongs to one of us now.” “The man with the long blond hair.” “Ky.” Ky. I ran the name through my mind, savoring the familiarity of the syllable in my memory. Rebekah loved him. She had told me so before she was punished. Image after image of Rebekah filled my mind. Her beautiful smile, her long blond hair, and the devastation on her face as they publicly tried her in New Zion. Her face, as she looked to me with such pained resignation in her eyes. Resolve that this was always how her life would end. And that she was the devil-woman they had made her out to be. A Cursed Woman of Eve. A truth I had believed for so long. The title that had tortured her life. “Is . . . is she happy?” I asked. AK nodded, a small smile on his lips, and I could not have stopped the tears if I tried. “She is,” he said gruffly, and my head fell forward. My wet hair veiled my face as I covered my mouth with my hands. I let the relief pour from my body. She was happy. I had not known. But she was happy. I could not have wished for anything more. AK left the room. He returned and stood in the doorway, holding some clothing in his hands. I could not read the expression on his face as he watched me. He was difficult to understand, I thought. Wearing a neutral mask that hid his true feelings. He had erected walls around himself for protection. I knew this because I recognized it in myself. I wondered why. “Get dressed. And then you need to eat.” The thought of food caused my stomach to roll with nausea. I shook my head, about to protest when AK said, “You haven’t eaten for nearly a week while you were coming off the smack. It ain’t gonna be easy, Red, but you gotta eat something.” He pointed to me. “Right now you’re a bag of bones.” He stepped away and left me alone. I took the clothes he had laid on the counter. I slipped the long sleeveless top over my head and pulled the soft pants over my legs. The pants were too big, but I was able to tie them around my small waist with the drawstring on the waistline. Using the wall for balance, I stood and made my way to the counter. There was a new toothbrush on the top, and a comb. I brushed my teeth, and when my mouth was clean and refreshed, I forced myself to stare at the reflection I had been avoiding. I gasped as I stared at the girl in the mirror. Her skin was dull and gray. Her bones jutted out at odd angles, and her hair hung limply at her sides. Then my eyes fell to the marks on her inner arms. Dozens of marks that marred her pale, freckled skin. I ran my fingertips over the marks. I could almost feel the needle piercing the skin and the heavenly potion slipping like pure sunlight into my veins. My body swayed and my eyes closed as I remembered how it took me away from my pain and my burdens. I stumbled, and my eyes snapped open. Just at the thought of the potion, my cheeks had flushed. Dread settled in my stomach. I craved the potion more than I wanted food, or water, or anything else for that matter. But then I thought of Rebekah, here in this place, safe and happy, and I made myself reach for the comb. Concentrating on her face, her smile, and the hope that Grace made it to her alive, I ran the comb through my hair until the long red strands were straight and smooth. Red, I thought as I stared back at my reflection. AK had called me “Red”. The color of my hair.
I startled at the brief flicker of a smile on my lips. I was not sure why, but I enjoyed that name for me. Not Phebe. Not “whore” . . . but the sheer simplicity of the name Red. I opened the door, and, slowly, painfully, I made my legs take me in the direction AK had gone. The smell of food almost made me return to the bathroom to purge. But I fought it, determined to keep moving. When I reached the kitchen, AK was at a stove, cooking food. I did not realize I had paused in the doorway, captivated by him, until he glanced over his shoulder and froze. He had changed into another pair of pants, and his hair was brushed back from his face. He was incredibly handsome. I did not understand the flush that came to my cheeks as that thought crossed my mind. Men did not affect me. They never had. Yet here I was, blushing as though I did not know the touch of a man. “You wanna sit?” He flicked his chin toward a table at the side of the room. I sat down, and AK placed a mug in front of me. I knew the smell immediately. “Coffee,” he said and walked back to the stove. “I have never tried it.” I lowered my nose to the liquid, but I had to turn my head away at the smell. “Try it,” he said encouragingly, placing a plate of food before me. Bacon and eggs. He shrugged and sat down opposite me. “I ain’t a good cook, but even I can't fuck this up.” I tentatively cut into the food. I brought a small amount to my mouth and made myself chew. It tasted like sawdust on my tongue. It felt like razorblades to swallow. But I ate it. I knew that I must. AK stared out of the window of his cabin while I ate as much as I could—it was not much. When I could eat no more, I placed down the cutlery and asked, “Why?” AK slowly turned back to face me. I swallowed a small amount of the coffee, wincing as the hot liquid burned my throat. But I liked it. “Why what?” he echoed. My eyes fell to his naked torso and the mass of tattoos marring his skin. “Me?” I said, finally fixing my attention back on his eyes. “Why . . . why did you help me?” Instinctively, my hand ran over the marks on my inner arm. “Why did you take me from . . . him?” I dropped my gaze and stared into the dark abyss of my coffee cup. “Why did you care? You do not know me.” “Just did,” he replied finally. I could see by his stiff posture that he would say nothing more on the matter. And that was okay. He did not have to explain anything. He rescued me, for whatever reason, from Meister. In the end, that was all I needed to know. “Thank you,” I whispered, keeping my eyes from meeting his. “Thank you for saving me.” I heard his breathing quicken, and I felt his need to say something to me from across the table. But before he could reply, there was a knock at the door. My head snapped up. I wondered who it could be. AK got up and opened the door. When the visitor stepped inside, my heart filled with light. He saw me sitting at the table and stopped dead. “Phebe,” he breathed. My hand shot to my mouth in disbelief. I saw a woman enter behind him. She was beautiful, with long black hair and blue eyes. But before I could wonder about her any further, Cain crossed the room and took me in his arms. Tears spilled from my eyes as I fell into his familiar embrace. He wore a black shirt and denim pants . . . and his long hair was gone. I cried into his shoulder, racking sobs, until he stood back. His eyes swept over me, and he smiled. I recognized that kind smile. Then the woman was pushing past him. “Phebe,” she breathed and embraced me with the same vigor. I frowned in confusion, wondering how she knew me. Then she pulled back, and I studied her face. Her hair was the wrong color, as were her eyes, but she was, this was . . . “Harmony?” I whispered in disbelief, then held her as close as I could. Harmony stepped back and
smiled at me. Her hand ghosted down my face. “It is Bella, Phebe. My true name is Bella.” She pointed at her hair and eyes. “I was in disguise in New Zion. This is the real me.” “Bella?” I shook my head in confusion. I did not understand. “It is okay,” Harm—no, Bella—said. “We will explain in time.” I looked at Cain, but I immediately saw Judah staring back at me. I swallowed, and Cain shifted on his feet. “He killed them all,” Cain said, reading my mind. His expression filled with agony. “I . . . I killed him, Phebe. I . . . I had to stop him.” Shock rendered me motionless, speechless. Bella took Cain’s hand in hers and lifted to her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. They were together, I realized. A foreign pang of envy traveled through me. So much so that my heart actually ached. Cain closed his eyes under Bella’s caress, then took a deep breath and turned to me. I searched his eyes for the answer to the question I did not dare to ask. “She is safe,” he said. I held my breath, finding it impossible to believe. “We got her out.” He smiled. “She is with your sister. Here. Safe and happy.” “Grace.” I closed my eyes as relief swept through me. He had gotten her out. Grace was safe. She was with Rebekah. “I need to see them.” “When he’s checked you,” AK’s strong voice said from the back of the kitchen. His posture was tense, and his eyes were tracking every move Cain made. I didn’t understand what was wrong. “Check her,” he said to Cain. “She’s through the worst of the shit now.” His tone was cold, almost cruel. I furrowed my brow in confusion. Cain came toward me holding a large bag, his cheeks red with embarrassment. “I was trained as a healer, Phebe. I’m here to check you’re okay. Meister had you on a lot of drugs—I’m not entirely sure of them all. AK helped you rid your system of them.” I nodded, still confused as to why AK had replaced kindness for anger in Cain’s presence. But I did not say anything on the matter. Instead I watched AK as Cain examined me. I watched as AK’s attention never left mine. And it made me feel . . . warm. I was not sure why; I knew him not at all. But I knew that this feeling, this warmth he gave me, was real.
Chapter Eight
AK
“And I was like, bitch! You realize how lucky you are to be fucking down there?” I laughed at Vike as he sat back in his seat. “Fucking took off nearly all of my pubes with her fucking teeth! Could have slapped the slut.” “Maybe you need to fucking trim your bush so your pubes wouldn’t get caught in her teeth, you ever think about that?” “Fuck off.” Vike shook his head. “I’m rocking the fucking eighties bush and I’m proud of it.” “The only fucking one who is,” I said. “You know if you shave, your cock looks bigger, yeah? Pubes hide the true girth.” Vike’s arm stopped, drink almost at his mouth, and he looked at me. “That true?” “It’s science, brother.” I waggled my brows. “Then shit! Goodbye, bush, is all I gotta say.” I laughed, fucking laughed at my brother as he downed his beer. I could tell by the serious look of concentration on his face that he was planning to weed-whack his fucking bush the minute he got into his cabin. “How about you, Flame?” I looked at Flame over the fire pit. But he was already watching me. Fucking black eyes boring into me. “What?” I asked, my cocky smile still on my face. I saw his jaw clench, then he was up out of his seat. Without looking back, he stormed out of my backyard and toward his cabin. “What the fuck is up with him?” Vike asked. I shook my head and stared in the direction he’d gone. “No fucking idea.” I drank the rest of my beer and cracked open another. Vike reached into the pocket of his cut and pulled out something in a Ziploc bag. I squinted, trying to see what it was. Vike opened the bag, and I saw a slice of pineapple inside. He started chomping on the fruit. I couldn’t help it. I laughed so fucking hard my stomach ached. “What?” he asked, shoving the last of the yellow fruit into his mouth. “Is this about what Cowboy said in the truck?” Vike swallowed then wiped his mouth with his forearm. “This makes my cum smell all tropical and shit, I’ll be ordering crates of the stuff.” He smiled. “In fact, I’ve been feeling the need to test it out. You wanna head to the clubhouse?” I shook my head. “Gotta stay. Phebe leaves tomorrow. She’s going to Li and Ky’s. First time she’s seen her sister since Judah tried to crucify her in the cult.” Vike got to his feet. “Good. Then we can all move on from this shit and get back to normal. Fucking hated this week. Flame ain’t left Maddie, and you ain’t left the ginger. I’m bored as fuck with y’all gone.” Vike threw his empty bottle into the trashcan. “At least the bitch will be gone from your hair. Don’t like how she’s been making you act. All moody and shit. At least you’re back to normal now.” I winked, smiling, as Vike left my yard. I waited until I heard the sound of his bike then dropped my fucking smile. I slouched in my seat and ran my hand over my face. My stomach tightened when I thought of Phebe on that fucking bed. Thrashing as I pinned her down, eyes fucking livid one minute, then lost the next, as the smack left her veins. I wondered if that’s how he’d been too. Wondered if he looked like that, fucking broken yet wild as he tore up the bedroom, demanding more drugs. Wondered if he’d needed cleaning afterward because he was too weak. Too fucking gone in the head to do anything, think about anything but his next fix. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to purge the thoughts from my head. The sound of the cabin door opening cut through the quiet of the night. Phebe stepped out onto the deck, dressed, but wrapped in a
blanket. I sat up, dropping my beer. “You okay?” I ran my eyes over her, making sure she wasn’t hurt. “Yes,” she said quietly, then approached where I sat. I fucking held my breath at the sight of her coming my way. Even tired and too-thin, this bitch was stunning. Her eyes were lowered as she hovered by the seat beside me, the one Vike had been sitting on. “May I?” She nodded her head in the direction of the chair. “Yeah,” I replied, and Phebe sat down. She tightened the blanket around her body. “You cold?” I asked. The night was pretty fucking warm. Phebe looked up at me, fucking stealing my damn breath. “I fluctuate between being far too hot and freezing cold. Right now I am struggling to remain warm.” She pointed at the fire. “I saw you out here and wondered if the fire would be of help.” The fire was burning pretty strong, and as I stared at her face, the orange flames reflecting on her face, I found it hard to fucking look away. Clearing my throat, I said, “I heard that’s a thing. Not being able to regulate your body temperature for a while. The effects of the detox.” Phebe gave me a watery smile. “I suspect so.” She leaned back against the seat, and her gaze became lost in the fire. I lit up a smoke and stared at the flames myself. It wasn’t long before I felt Phebe’s eyes on me. When I turned and caught her, her blue eyes were fucking studying me, like they were dissecting every part of my face. “What?” I asked. “You act differently with them.” I furrowed my brow. “Who?” “Your two friends. The ones who were out here with you tonight.” “You were watching us?” I asked. Her cheeks blazed with embarrassment. “I needed a drink of water and some fresh air. But when I saw them out here with you, I waited until they left. I . . . I am not ready to see anyone . . . anyone but you.” Her lips curled up at the corners as she said that shit, and Christ if my chest didn’t tighten some. That is, until she leaned my way, her face so fucking close to mine. “You laughed and you joked. You were silly and playful.” I went to laugh, telling her that’s who I really was, but the bitch wasn’t laughing. She wasn’t even smiling anymore. “You wear a mask, AK.” Her head tipped to the side as my heart slammed against my ribcage and didn’t let up. “You laughed and you joked, but your eyes . . .” Phebe reached out and ran her fingers around my eyes. “Your eyes remained haunted. Seeing something in the world that your mirth can not dissolve.” I froze, fucking stock-still. Phebe ducked her eyes, then sat back in her seat and stared at the fire. “I watched you, wondering why you portray yourself as two people. Then I believe I found the answer— because you wish to find happiness in the shoes you fill now.” She turned to me and fucking seared me with her blue eyes. “Not the shoes you once wore. The ones that caused you pain, blistering both your feet and heart . . . for good.” “Yeah?” I answered, my traitorous voice fucking cut open by her accuracy. “How do you know?” “Because only someone who has walked in similar shoes, who has walked that familiar path, can see it.” Phebe bent up her knees and ran her hands over her feet. They were still cut and marked from the ghost town. “These scars will fade, yet they will never leave. Just like you, AK. The playful attitude you find in the company of your friends will endure, but your eyes will forever bare your soul to one who truly recognizes it.” “What do you recognize in my eyes?” I asked, my fucking blood draining from my face. My damn palms started sweating, and my fingers shook, the ash from my smoke falling onto my jeans. “Someone searching for grace.” Phebe laughed a laugh that held not one bit of humor. “Strangers to our kind of pain, people who have yet to be thrown onto the same rocky road, will not recognize you as a fellow traveler, desperately seeking what lies at the end of the path.” She took a deep breath.
“Forgiveness. But those of us who have already been walking the road for miles will see you. We will see within you a kindred spirit.” She didn’t push me. She didn’t ask what I might be hiding. No, she just ripped open my fucking chest, bared my soul, then left it out on display for her ocean-blue eyes to see. Phebe’s arms came out of the blanket and she held out her palms toward the fire. I saw her eyes go to her arms, then she huffed out a single laugh. “My freckles. My millions of freckles stand out against my pale skin like neon lights in this fire’s glow.” She shrugged. “I always disliked them.” She placed her hand on her face. “Especially the ones on my face. I felt they muddied my looks. Made me stand out from the crowd.” They fucking did. She stood out a fucking mile. But not in a bad way. After having her in my cabin for a week, I was pretty sure she was the most stunning bitch I ever saw. I looked up at the night sky, then back to Phebe. “Look up.” Phebe snapped her eyes to me. “Look up at the sky,” I said again. She did. I watched as a fucking huge smile came onto her lips. “There are so many stars,” she whispered. “Imagine the sky without them.” Phebe looked at me in confusion. “Why would I do that? They make the sky so pretty. They are the reason people stargaze. To see their beauty.” “Think of your face like the sky. The freckles, the stars, only make the sight more worth looking at.” Phebe’s eyes widened, so much so that her lashes practically pressed against her eyebrows. She blinked, she fucking silently blinked, making me feel like a fucking moron. Then her eyes shimmered. “Thank you,” she whispered, like she’d never received a compliment in her life. But it was true. I couldn’t imagine that fucking beautiful face without her freckles any more than I could imagine the night sky without the stars. “AK?” she asked minutes later. “Mm?” “I am to leave you tomorrow?” My stomach flipped. Fucking rolled at the thought of her gone and not in my bed. “Yeah. You need to see your sister again. Didn’t wanna bring her here when you were like you were. Now you’re better, it’s time she knew you were safe.” Phebe swallowed, then forced a smile. “At least you will sleep once again. I have noticed that you have not gotten more than a couple of hours a night all week. Your bed, empty of me, will return peaceful slumber to you once again.” “I don’t sleep much anyway, Red,” I said and felt the truth of that fact down to my bones. “Another way you are like me,” she said. “Needing to sleep, but frightfully terrified at what awaits you in the darkness.” “Something like that.” “Yes,” was all she said, ending the conversation. “It is beautiful here,” she said, gesturing around the yard. “So peaceful. Enclosed in a cluster of trees protecting you and keeping you safe.” She stilled then looked down at her hand. She held it out and looked at me. “I remember something,” she said, voice shaking. “You and me in a forest. You telling me to hold on.” Phebe moved her hand toward mine on the arm of my chair. “You covered my hand like this.” She laid her hand on mine. “Yes,” she said softly. “Just like this. You told me you had come for me. But I had to just hold on a while longer.” Her eyes flickered to meet mine. “I asked you stay with me, to hold my hand.” Phebe threaded her fingers through mine and my heart fucking stopped, as if I were a damn pussy kid. “You linked them so solidly, so firmly, that it got me through the pain.” A deep breath. “You got me through the pain as we sat on the soft, gentle grass.” Phebe inhaled, eyes closed. Opening her eyes, she said, “Leather. As my head lay upon your shoulder I
smelled the leather of your clothing. I felt your honor, your steadying presence.” “None of that happened,” I said, not wanting her to break her fucking hands away. I stared at her hand in mine, and I swore I’d never felt anything like it in my sorry life. “An angel in my dreams, perhaps,” I looked at her face. “Yes,” she said, her face elated, as if she’d just made sense of something. “An angel disguised as a devil. The devil’s man with angel eyes. Kind eyes . . .” Kind eyes. Those fucking words again. “This ain’t making sense, Red,” I rasped. “To me it does,” she replied, still watching our hands. “You remembering more?” I wished I’d never asked it, because as I did, her hand slid from mine and she wrapped both arms around her bent legs. “No.” She took a deep breath. “Nothing is there. Just a black void. There are glimpses, but like you in the forest, I am unaware if these memories are fact or purely a figment of my imagination.” She wiped her eyes. “Time and memory has been stolen from me. Even though I know the memories will be hard to endure, I wish they were not hidden from sight. It is better to know, is it not? Even if the truth can cause more harm than good.” Phebe’s lips thinned. “Lies are the work of the devil. Lies. All I have ever known were lies.” “You might get them back, in time,” I said, and Phebe yawned. She smiled in response, but I could see she was done with talking. Wrapping the blanket tighter around her, she got to her feet and turned toward the door. But before she left, she stopped in front of me. Taking my hand in hers, she said, “I am thankful for what you have done for me.” I nodded, not knowing how to take the damn compliment. Phebe leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “I shall forever look at both my freckles and the stars with a new appreciation. Thank you.” She went back into the cabin. When the door shut, I let out a long breath. And as I sat there, thinking about everything she said, I felt ripped open. No one. Not a fucking single person had ever read me like that. Like a fucking book. Fucking Red with her big blue eyes and a million freckles. I tipped my head back and looked at the stars. I knew I’d never see them the same again either. And I was glad, because tomorrow she’d go, and all I’d have left of her would be the stars. The stars and the scars on my feet. The scars that were hidden, gained on my journey to grace. But at least there was comfort in knowing she had them too. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel so fucking alone. All because of Red. Red and her fucking face of freckles.
Chapter Nine
Flame
“Flame?” I ran my blade along my arm as I sat on the floor. My head. My fucking head was full of those bitches. Those drugs. Those asshole Klan pricks fucking them. Making them scream. Hurting my fucking ears. Making me need to kill. To spill blood. “Flame?” Maddie’s voice cut through my thoughts, and I looked up. She stood above me. I could see in her eyes she was disappointed. I knew what that looked like now. I knew what all her looks meant. I understood her more now. Things were better. They had been better . . . Maddie kneeled down opposite me. I felt my heart beat faster. It always happened when she came near me. When I looked at her long black hair and green eyes. My body didn’t try and run away or fight her off. It wanted her. I wanted her. “Baby,” she whispered and put her hand on my arm. There were marks from the knife, but the blade was blunt now. It was so I couldn’t hurt myself. I didn’t need to when I was with Maddie. But I had new wounds now. New wounds from that fucking Klan hell. They’d made me cut myself. They had made Maddie upset that I had. It made me want to go back and kill more of them. Slowly, hearing them scream instead of the bitches they had trapped. Bitches like . . . “Flame?” Maddie took my knife from my hand. She pushed it to the side of the room. I stared at her. She was wearing a long black dress and a cut with my name on my back. “You’re pretty,” I said, and Maddie stilled. Her head tipped to the side and she smiled. I loved it when she smiled. But this smile was different. It wasn’t as full or as wide as it normally was. It wasn’t my Maddie’s smile. “Thank you,” she said and reached out her hand. She ran her fingers down my cheek. “I want to lie down, Flame. Will you join me?” I nodded, watching as Maddie got to her feet. She held out her hand. I took it and got to my feet. She led me from the living room and through to our bedroom. I liked our bedroom. It smelled of Maddie. It smelled of Maddie when she was with me. Maddie climbed onto the bed, and I climbed on beside her. We laid our heads on the pillow, and she took hold of my hand. I looked at our hands. They always made me feel better. “Flame?” Maddie said, and I looked up at her face. “Look at me.” I made my eyes look into hers. “There.” She pushed my hair back from my face. But my eyes dropped back to our hands when I felt her fingers run over my wedding ring. “I love you, Flame,” Maddie said. I closed my eyes, hearing those words again. “I love you more than anything in this world.” I opened my eyes, and when I could, looked at Maddie. “I . . . I love you too,” I said, and this time she smiled her Maddie smile. I relaxed and moved closer to her on the pillow. Maddie kissed my nose. “Why were you on the floor when I came in?” My eyebrows came down. “You were in the spot that used to house the hatch.” “I was?” Maddie nodded her head. She took my arm and ran her hand down the new scars. “Why are you fantasizing about cutting? Why did you cut yourself on your run?” I saw the bitches in my head. I saw the Klan men fucking them. Saw their faces. Saw the blood. The
cum. The sweat. A fucking growl ripped from my mouth. “Shh,” Maddie whispered and put her hand on my forehead. “It could have been you.” I squeezed my eyes shut. But every time I shut my eyes, I saw her on one of the beds. I saw her in one of those dresses. With the IV that Cowboy told me about. I saw her eyes rolling in her head. And I saw those fucking men raping her, making her scream. “Flame. I am here. With you. Open your eyes.” I did as Maddie said, and I shook my head. “They could have been you. The cult bitches.” Maddie swallowed. I knew that meant she was nervous. “Is this about the place from which you rescued Phebe?” I looked down. “I am not supposed to tell you about club business.” “Flame. Something is hurting you. It is me, your Maddie. Whatever you tell me shall never be repeated. I understand the club asks you not to tell your wives about club business. But I will not see you destroyed over this. I will not spill any secrets. You have my word. You always have and you always will.” “They had them drugged and were fucking them,” I said. Maddie sucked in a breath. “Phebe?” “Yes. He beat her. Fucked her. Drugged her. All of them. So many fucking men that the bitches bled. Kids too. Men paying to fuck the drugged bitches.” Maddie’s eyes flicked from side to side, then tears filled her eyes. “Phebe was hurt this way? Lilah’s sister?” “Yes.” I sat up. “You’re crying. It made you cry. I don’t like it when you cry.” Maddie pulled me back down to the bed. She leaned over me and wiped her eyes. “It is sad what happened to Phebe, what happened to the other women. That is why I am crying.” “I saw you,” I said, and Maddie froze. Her green eyes met mine. “Every time I saw one, I saw you. If you hadn’t gotten out. If they had kept you there. It could have been you.” “That is what is worrying you,” she said and put her hands on my cheeks. “Since you have returned, you have been imagining me there.” She ran her fingers over my cuts. “You hurt yourself to cope with what you were seeing. In your head.” I swallowed. “I couldn’t see you like that. It’s all I’ve thought about. If you weren’t here with the Hangmen . . . if you weren’t here with me.” Maddie moved her head over mine and leaned down. She kissed my lips, and I kissed her back. When she lifted her head, she put her hand in mine. “I am here with you, Flame. I am here with you and will never ever leave you. I am Maddie, and you are Flame, and we are married. We will never be apart.” “Never,” I said and Maddie rested her head on my chest. I ran my fingers through her hair. It calmed me. Calmed my boiling blood. I felt Maddie’s fingers move over my chest as I stared up at the ceiling. Then I told her what else was wrong. “Something’s wrong with AK.” Maddie’s fingers stopped moving. “What do you mean?” “He’s like he was before. I don’t fucking like it. He’s lying. He’s acting okay when he’s not. I can see it. Vike can’t. But he’s like he was before. He wasn’t good before.” “Before?” Maddie asked. “Before. Years ago. He’s been better. But since Phebe, he’s been the same again.” Maddie lifted her head. Her forehead was creased. She was confused. I knew that. “What made him not so good before, Flame?” I thought back to those days. To all the fucking blood and pain and AK losing his shit. “Dev,” I said and I thought of him. Of Zane, of Tina, of that whole fucking time. Of AK not being AK anymore. “I need him,” I said. “I need AK normal. I can’t have him like he was before. I don’t like it. It . . .” I rubbed my chest. It was too tight and I couldn’t breathe so well. “It hurts my chest. AK sad makes my chest ache.” “It is because you love him,” she explained. She covered my hand on my chest with her own. “Your
heart aches because you are worried for him. Your brother. The man that gave you a second chance at life.” I nodded. “He did.” “Have you spoken to him?” I shook my head. “No. But tonight he lied. Vike was joking and he joined in. But it was fake. It was all fucking fake. It made me mad. I walked off.” Maddie sighed then kissed my chest. I sucked in a breath at her touch. I fucking loved her touching me now. “You must talk to him, Flame. He is your best friend, the person closest to you. You must ask him if he is okay. He helped you when you were lost to the dark. This time, he may need you.” “I don’t know what to say to him,” I said. When I looked at my hands, they were shaking. I frowned. Maddie took my hand. “It makes you nervous. But that is okay. It is because you care. AK loves you. He will listen to you. He never wants to hurt you.” I stared at Maddie and nodded my head. “Okay. I’ll talk to him.” “Good.” She smiled. I touched her lips. “I like it when you smile.” “I like it when you talk to me.” Maddie shifted up until she was lying on me. She put both her hands on my face. “Do not keep things from me anymore, baby. I love you, and I will share any burden you bear.” “Okay,” I said, and she smiled again. I loved her smile. Maddie’s fingers traced the flame tattoos on my chest. “Asher picked me up from Bella’s tonight.” I watched her. Waiting. “He is still staying with Viking. At his cabin.” “I know,” I said. Something made Maddie’s expression change. “He does not like living with Viking. I can tell.” My cheek twitched when she said that, and I felt something cold run through my veins. “He’ll be back with AK soon. He likes it there.” Maddie sighed, then tipped her head to the side as she looked at me. “He does, but . . .” She took another breath. “I think he likes it best with us. When he comes for dinner, I can see how much he likes being with you and in this cabin. Have you noticed this?” I thought back to Ash, sitting with us at the table. I remembered his face, fucking smiling as he ate Maddie’s food. Talking to my wife. He was happy here. “Flame?” Maddie said my name again. I watched her. “I have been wondering . . . perhaps Asher would like to stay with us?” “Tonight?” She shook her head. “I have been thinking that perhaps Asher should live here with us. He is your brother and he adores you. I know he loves AK too, but you are his brother. We are his family. I feel he should move in with us.” I shook my head. I breathed hard through my nostrils. “I don’t . . . I don’t know how to care for him. What the fuck would I say to him? Where would he stay?” “Shh,” Maddie soothed. “It was just an idea. Something that can stay between us. Something for you to think about. There is no need to panic. Or worry. And we could make up the back room for his bedroom. He is sixteen and very independent. Asher would not need caring for like a small child. And you can talk to him. You do so now. It would simply be more frequent, which I think would be good for you. Good for you both.” I tried to think of Ash living here. My body went cold, and I couldn’t fucking breathe. “Flame,” Maddie said, and I focused on her face. “It is something to think about. But not right now.” Maddie’s hand softly traveled down my abs. I hissed as her hand reached the waistband of my leathers. “Right now I wish to be
with my husband. I wish to remind you that I am here for you, always. That I am not where Phebe was. Instead I am in your arms, in our bed, in our home. And that I love you.” “Yeah,” I said hoarsely. “I want that too.” Then Maddie kissed me. She kissed me and the need to cut my arm went away. The thoughts of her in the ghost town left my head. Because now she was here. In our bed. In my arms. My fucking Maddie. Mine.
Chapter Ten
Phebe
I stared at the trees as they whizzed past—a blur of green and brown. The truck was silent as we drove up a dirt path. Fields and fields of green spread out around us. If I did not know better, I could have believed I was back in New Zion. But somehow I thought I would have always known that was not true. Everything about this devil’s den felt different. And not in the way I would have thought. I did not feel fear, but nor did I feel safe. I was stalled in a state of purgatory, not knowing where I belonged. A fallen leaf caught in a strong wind. “I am to stay with Rebekah from now on?” I asked as I stared out of the window. I toyed with the sleeve of the loose, white, floor-length dress Bella had brought for me. My heart was a trembling mess as I thought of the last time I had seen Rebekah. A part of me feared she would hate me, that she would not welcome me into her home. But on the other hand, I wanted to break free from this truck in which I traveled and run into her arms. One of AK’s hands was tight on the steering wheel. He had a cigarette in the other, and he took regular drags from the lit embers as we drove. Over the past few hours, I had tried to piece together what had happened to me in New Zion, in the end. I remembered that Judah, fearful of an attack by the devil’s men, began gathering our people. I remembered hiding Grace near the prison. I remembered Cain coming back and promising me that if anything happened to me he would secure Grace’s safety. I remembered freeing Cain, Sister Ruth, Brother David, Solomon and Samson from their cell. Then I remembered Meister finding me near the woods as I rushed back to Grace. He took hold of my hand. I had tried to resist him, but he had been violent and put something in my arm. He had been gradually putting something in my arm many weeks before that, the potion that made me feel strange, but that day it had been different. Because that was the last thing I truly remembered. Only flashes and segments of other moments remained—dark rooms, Meister and his friends laughing at me. And pain. Lots and lots of pain. AK took a left turn, the motion of the vehicle dragging me from my thoughts. A house came into view. Similar to AK’s, but bigger and with more greenery outside. My pulse took off into a sprint as the truck rolled to a stop. AK pointed at the house. “This is Ky and Lilah’s.” “Oh.” A sudden onslaught of nerves gripped me. I tried to focus on the windows, checking for any movement, but I could not see beyond the reflection of the trees against the glass. I played with my hands in my lap. “I have wanted this moment for so long . . . yet I find myself frozen in this very seat,” I said, my voice shaking. I looked down at my hands, at the broken skin, at the ashen pallor, and wondered what Rebekah would think of me. “I have thought of this moment many times, AK. For so long I believed I would never get this chance. To see the sister I have loved for so long, yet wronged in so many ways . . .” I laughed nervously. “I suppose you do not understand what I am saying.” He shifted in his seat. “I think I probably do.” “Yes?” I said in relief. Relief that perhaps someone knew how I feared this moment as much as I treasured that it was finally here. AK nodded, then looked out of his window, turning his head from me. “Then did . . . did you ever get this moment too?” I asked.
I heard the birds in the trees and the wind rustling through the leaves, but nothing came from him. Eventually he faced me again, a wash of sadness in his eyes. He dropped his head. “No.” His voice was cut and raw, and my heart yearned to comfort him. I moved my hand toward him, but just as I laid my hand on his thigh, the thick muscle tensing underneath, he spoke. “But you get yours, now.” “I am afraid,” I confessed as I saw the front door of the cabin open. The blond man with long hair who I remembered from that night on Perdition Hill stepped out and looked across at our truck. Ky. “She’ll be coming soon,” AK said. I slid my hand off his thigh. “AK?” “Yeah?” “Will you help me out of the truck, please? I feel . . . I am not sure I can get out and see her myself. My feet, I am sure, will not carry me.” A flush of embarrassment surged to my cheeks. “You do not have to if you do not—” Before I could finish the sentence, AK was around the side of the truck and opening the door. He reached in and took hold of my waist, lifting me from the truck. My sandaled feet hit the soft grass and the warm breeze flowed through my hair. When I had gathered my composure, I took a step forward. That same warm breeze seemed to penetrate my heart as AK’s hand remained on my arm to steady me. My walk was slow as we rounded the truck and approached Ky. “I am afraid I might fall,” I said, drawing to a stop. AK’s large body moved behind me, and I heard his silent reply: he would not let that happen. Ky opened the door. “Li! Come here, baby!” In an instant, my hands were shaking as raggedly as my breathing. “Oh God,” I choked out, as my nerves became the only thing I could feel. AK’s hands tightened on my arms as he held me in place. And then she came through the door, and the very air around me stilled. “What, baby?” she said to her husband. Ky pulled her close to him and turned her around to face me. I looked at my sister . . . or the person who was now my sister, and I felt as though everything had stopped around me. There was only her and me, in our own world. Only in this world Rebekah had changed. Her long hair was gone; in its place, a short cut that framed her face. And her face . . . her once beautiful face was slashed down one cheek with a red, angry scar. One side of her mouth was slightly upturned with the mark. A mountain of tears built in my eyes when I saw her, when I studied my sister. The pain of seeing her this way left me paralyzed. “Phebe.” She stumbled backward into her man’s arms. He steadied her so she did not fall. I closed my eyes at the sound of her gentle voice. Mature now, of course, but it was the same voice that had called me from sleep when she was young and standing at my door. The same voice that would call my name as she tiptoed to my bed and climbed in under the covers because she was scared of the men our father entertained in the living room . . . the men who touched her . . . the men who touched me too . . . I opened my eyes to see Rebekah approaching me. She wore a long lilac dress, and brown boots on her feet. But I could not stop staring at her face and her hair. What had happened to her? “Phebe.” Tears fell from her own eyes as she cautiously stepped toward me. I saw those pretty blue eyes take in my appearance. I understood in that moment that neither of us looked the same to the other. Both changed. Irreparably. “Rebekah.” We approached each other, slowly, cautiously, until there were only inches of air between
us. My hand shook as it covered my mouth, and she mirrored my action. If I were not so shocked by her marred face I would have taken pleasure in the obvious familial gesture. But I could not. I reached out my shaking hand and touched Rebekah’s cheek. Her blue eyes closed as she sobbed under my touch. My fingertips ran down her scar, the pads caressing the raised skin. “Rebekah,” I cried softly. Rebekah took hold of my hand and gently pulled me into her embrace. My weak arms wrapped around her waist. My little sister was back in my arms. I held on tightly, as if I would never let go. “Where have you been?” Rebekah cried. I shook my head, not wanting to ruin this moment. But she held me tighter and said, “You are too thin . . . please, Phebe, are you hurt?” “I . . .” I hesitated. “I am here now.” A vision of AK swept into my mind, and only one word left my lips. “Safe,” I murmured. “I am safe now.” We held on to one another for what felt like hours before Rebekah stepped back and took hold of my arms. “Your face,” I said and heard my voice catch and break. Rebekah shook her head, a small smile on her lips. “It was for the best,” she said gently. “I wanted no beauty. I needed no more beauty.” “I do… I do not understand.” “Later. It does not matter now.” “Who saved you?” she asked. I saw her look over my shoulder. “AK?” “Yes.” It was the only answer I could give. Her cryptic words still rang in my ears. I needed no more beauty. “Thank you,” I heard her say to AK. “Phebe?” A small, soft voice drifted from the house. Rebekah let out a gentle peal of laughter. Taking my hand, she turned around. My already bruised heart cracked right down the middle when a familiar blond head came bustling through the front door. “Grace,” I whispered. She saw me, and her smiling face lit up. She pounded over the grass, so fast I was concerned she would fall. She attempted to launch herself into my arms, and I braced for her impact, not sure I was strong enough to hold her. But Rebekah stood in my path and scooped Grace up in her arms. “Mama, I wanted to hug Phebe!” Grace scolded. I closed my eyes on hearing such a blessing from her lips. Mama. “Aunt Phebe is unwell, Grace. You must be gentle.” Grace’s beautiful face dropped. “You are sick?” she asked. “But getting better, child,” I said soothingly. I took a step forward, ignoring the trembling of my legs. “I am all the better for seeing you. You always did brighten up my day.” Grace smiled, then looked behind me. “Is Prophet Cain with you? Or Brother Meister?” Her words hit me like a hammer. She meant Judah, not Cain. And of course, she knew Meister. He had made sure they had met. And I had made sure I kept her away from both of them as much as I could. “No, sweet girl,” I forced out, and watched Rebekah’s concern for me build in her eyes. “They are gone now.” Grace looked to Rebekah. “Will she live with us and papa?” I suddenly felt so weak. Too many things were hitting me at once. Grace, Rebekah’s injuries, and now the idea of what came next. What was my life? What did I do out here? Who was I, away from New Zion? “Phebe?” Rebekah’s voice caressed my ears as my legs finally gave way and I fell to the ground. I blinked, trying to keep my focus, but the world around me kept drifting in and out of sight. Two arms lifted me, and I relaxed when I smelled the familiar scent of smoke and gunpowder. “Where do I take her?” AK’s gruff voice asked. I was laid down upon a bed. AK placed his hand on my forehead. “Rider said she’ll be weak for the next few days. But more than anything, she needs food and water. And
sleep. She ain’t had much real sleep in these past few weeks, as far as I can tell.” “Thank you, AK,” Rebekah said. She nervously kissed him on his cheek. “I do not know how I will ever thank you for what you have done. You no doubt risked your life for her, to bring her back to me. For that, I am eternally grateful.” AK lowered his eyes. I knew if I could see them under the shelter of his hair, they would be glistening. He had a tough shell, but something softer lay quietly beneath. And no matter how much I tried to push that thought out of my head, strangely I could think of nothing else. “I’ll be going now,” AK said, his voice low and raw. My chest ached at the thought of his absence. Just before he left the room, he turned to meet my eyes and said just one word: “Red.” It was his way of saying goodbye. “Goodbye, AK.” I said, my voice tired and weak. My eyes began to pull down as sleep came calling. Rebekah sat on the bed beside me and squeezed my hand. “Sleep, sister. You are safe now.” And that was the last thing I remembered. That, and AK’s angel eyes on me as he left.
*****
I blinked in the dark room. The only light came from a small lamp on the side table. Where was I? The soft murmurings of voices came from beyond the door. I threw aside the comforter that was over me, and as my feet hit the floor I remembered where I was. Rebekah’s. Feeling stronger than before, I followed the sound of the voices to the room next door. I peeked through the crack in the door to see Rebekah sitting beside Grace’s bed, reading her a story. My heart swelled in my chest as I listened to Rebekah’s soft voice tell her about a hedgehog and rabbit that talked. Grace laughed at the funny passages, then slowly drifted off to sleep. Rebekah closed the book and stood. She tucked Grace in and leaned down to kiss her head. “I love you more than the stars in the sky,” she whispered. Tears pricked my eyes as I watched Grace sound asleep. In another world, that would have been Rebekah. Same coloring, same beautiful face and nature. But she was robbed of that life. I did not realize Rebekah had approached the door. “Phebe?” She closed the door to Grace’s room. “How are you feeling?” Her worried eyes studied my face. “Better,” I said, my voice hoarse. “What time is it?” “Late.” Rebekah took my arm and led me to a large wood-furnished kitchen. I took a seat at the table and watched as Rebekah took a dish out of the oven. “I made this while you slept. AK told us you would be hungry, or at least that you should eat.” She placed a plate of a peculiar white-and-red dish before me. “You cooked this?” I asked. Rebekah’s cheeks flushed. “I like to cook. Since I came here, for good, I have found a passion in cooking.” I stretched my arm over the table and took hold of her left hand. She wore a wedding ring on fourth finger. I smiled. “You married him.” “I did,” she confirmed, and I saw the happiness beaming from her face. “He . . . he was not the man I expected would be for me. But then, after everything . . .” She took a breath. “It turned out he is exactly what I need. He is brash and rude. He curses, and he is a dangerous man at times. But he loves me more than I deserve, and I love him more than I ever thought possible. He is . . . he is home.” She shrugged, as if she had explained that badly. But I was speechless at her confession. I had no idea what that kind of peace even was. “Then I am happy beyond words,” I managed to choke out. “You . . .” I swallowed back the lump in my throat. “You, more than anyone, deserve that.” “I do not know about that, but I thank God for Ky every day.” She sighed. “And Grace.” Rebekah’s grip
on my hand tightened, and a silent tear fell from her eye. “Rebekah?” My sister shook her head, her short hair falling in front of her face. “When . . . when they came back from New Zion and told us what Judah had done. All those people . . .” I briefly closed my eyes at the memory. “When they came back without you, my sister, I could not breathe. I feared . . . I feared you had been killed too. Then Rider—Cain—told me you had saved Grace. You had saved Grace and sent her to me because you knew I would care for her.” She shook her head. “I did not know what to feel. You were missing, but you had given me a blessing you could not know the magnitude of.” “What do you mean?” I asked. I could hear the pain in her voice. Rebekah breathed deeply, then said, “When I returned from Perdition Hill, I—” She cleared her throat. “I was not in a good place.” She absently traced the scar down her face. “I did not want this face anymore, Phebe. I wanted none of it. So I cut myself. I hurt myself to take away the temptation I held for men.” I had been sure nothing could hurt me more than the past few days, than AK keeping me in his cabin, purging me of Meister’s potion. I was wrong. Knowing that my Rebekah, the girl who had been taken away for being too beautiful, had been compelled to do this to herself . . . it hurt me more than anything on this earth could have done. And I had been a part of it. Convinced her that her looks were sinful. “Rebekah . . .” I heard the horror and guilt in my own voice. “It is okay,” she said. “It took me a while to face those demons, but I got through it. Then . . .” “Then what?” “Then it was discovered that I could not have children.” And the remnants of my heart withered to dust. A strange kind of numbness filtered through my body. A numbness I could not explain, as though a switch of some kind had been flicked off within me. “Everything that had been done to me over the years. What Judah ordered his men to do to me when I was recaptured . . . it was too much on my body. It . . . it broke my heart, Phebe.” Rebekah straightened her back, trying to be strong. I wanted to sweep her into my arms and tell her it was all my fault, that I had stood back and watched it happen. “And then you gave us Grace.” I winced, the pain stabbing into me like a knife. My beautifully scarred sister, who should never have gone through any of this. “You gifted us an angel when you saved Grace. By saving her, you saved me. I will never be able to repay you for that miracle. You gave Grace a life. Hers would have echoed mine had you not intervened. Or she would have perished with the rest of The Order.” Rebekah rose and walked around the table to crouch at my feet. “And now you are here too. I . . .” She wiped a tear from her eyes. “I do not know how you did it, but you, my sister, saved us with your act of courage.” I heard her words, yet I could not give them credence. Because I did not save her. No matter what penance I paid, no matter that I had saved Grace, I had failed my sister, and now I found that it had irreparably marred her life. “You need not thank me at all,” I said and meant every word. “Grace was meant to be yours. As soon as I saw her, and knew the danger her beauty posed, I had to get her to you, somehow, some way. Because I knew your pure heart would adore her.” Rebekah chased the wetness from my cheeks, and I reached out and held on to her wrist. “I should have said this many years ago and somehow fought for you, come for you. I was wrong to believe what they told us about you. You are not devil-created. I realized this too late, even though I saw your pain. I foolishly believed in the prophet, until I saw our faith begin to unravel before my eyes. I . . . I—” “Shh.” Rebekah shook her head. “It is over now. We cannot go back.” I wanted to argue that although
we could not go back, it was also impossible for some of us to move on. But I held my worry inside. Cautiously, Rebekah asked, “What . . . where have you been, Phebe? What did that man do to you?” Her eyes were full of concern. “You are so thin. I . . . I cannot bear the thought—” This time I shushed her. “Shh, Rebekah.” I chased the truth from my mouth. “I was not hurt, I promise. I was held by Meister as his prisoner. He was neglectful, but not hurtful to me. Be at peace. I am well. We all are now.” Rebekah released a long breath, and I watched her shoulders relax, as though an incredible weight had been lifted from them. She pulled me close and hugged me. I closed my eyes and held back my tears. Rebekah did not need to know of my suffering. She had already endured that and more. Laughing, Rebekah pulled back. “Your food. You must eat it before it gets cold.” Rebekah sat down opposite me. She smiled at me as she took a sip of her drink, and I forced the food down my throat. I felt the marks on my arm itch. If I’d had Meister’s potion available right then, I would have used it, just to escape this world for a while. When I had finished the last of the food, I lowered my fork. “Everyone here calls you Lilah or Li.” She nodded. “I prefer those names. The memories that come with Rebekah can be difficult to relive at times.” I understood. “Then I will call you Lilah too.” “Thank you.” She yawned. “Go to sleep, sister,” I said and got to my feet. “Are you not tired too?” she asked. “No, but I could very much use some fresh air. I . . . I did not feel the wind on my face too much where I have been.” I tried to remember if that was true. I couldn’t really recall it, but I was certain it was true all the same. “There are chairs on the porch. Take all the time you need. You will be safe here, I promise. You are free.” “Thank you.” I made my way to the door. As I passed Lilah she took hold of my hand, and once again I was wrapped in her embrace. “I find I cannot let you go,” she said, and my heart melted. “I am going nowhere,” I assured her. “Now get to bed. You are tired.” I opened the door and stepped out into the fresh air. I heard Lilah walk away, and I relaxed. I could drop all the pretense. But I did not see him beside me. I did not see him sitting there in the dark until I noticed a flicker of movement and the light of a burning cigarette. I jumped and placed my hand over my now-racing heart. Ky got to his feet. “You scared me,” I said. Lilah’s husband stepped toward me, a puff of white air splitting the dark. “You lied to her.” I automatically shook my head in protest, but he held up his hand. “Thank you,” he said raggedly. I blinked in disbelief as I watched the tightness leave his eyes. “I know what you’ve been through, at least some of it. And I saw you in AK’s cabin when he got you out. Yet you told Li you were good. So . . . thank you.” I nodded, having no words to say. Ky walked to the door. “You can stay here as long as you want.” He left me alone, his kindness hanging in the air in his wake. It only served to cut deeper. I made my way to the rocking chair that Ky had just vacated. I sat down, relieving my aching muscles, and stared out into the darkness. The stars were bright up above, and bats swooped around the large garden. Children’s toys were scattered around the grass. Lilah was right. This was her home. Then I thought of her face. Thought of the fact that she could no longer have children, because of what the Elders had done to her. And I hated it all. I wished that AK had not saved me. I wished that Meister’s potion still mixed with my blood, because it made me forget. Above all, I wanted to forget.
I thought of Grace in her bed and Lilah reading to her, brushing a kiss on her head. My heart yearned for a moment such as that. But that hope had died, long ago, and my soul had faded too. The sins I bore in secret made it feel as though my life had no point anymore. That I no longer had a purpose, now I was here, starting over again, but separated from the missing piece of my heart. I ran my hand along the marks on my arm, the flesh itching and yearning for what I could not give my thirsty vein. Then my hand hit something beside the chair. I grabbed hold of the object and brought it into the light cast by the lantern attached to the ceiling. Jack Daniels. I removed the cap, and a familiar scent filled my nose. Meister would drink this in New Zion. A sudden image of him, drinking after he had joined with me in a dark room, hit me. I flinched when the memory made me feel sick. When I remembered the blood. The pain between my legs. His seed on my skin and the heavenly needle being injected into my arm . . . He would use this to relax. I raised the bottle and drank from the neck. The bitter liquid burned my throat. I coughed as it took the breath from my lungs. But then the liquid traveled through my body and lightened some of the pain I bore. So I took another sip, and another, and one more, until I felt the pain subside and the image of Lilah’s ruined face leave my mind. Whenever memories tried to infiltrate my mind—Meister’s handlings, Judah’s betrayal—I drank some more. And when the worst of my memories tried to stab me, bruise me, destroy me, I drowned them with the drink, begging them to flee. Eventually, the world became blissfully numb and my mind became immune to all evil. Yet one image did not leave. AK’s face and kind eyes stayed with me as I watched the bats fly in the midnight sky. And I was okay with that. Because in this whole mess, he was a shining beacon of hope. The only face that made me feel safe. Because there was a darkness in him too, a fellow traveler on the same uneasy road. So I let his angel eyes watch over me as I slumped in the chair. I let them keep me safe. Safe . . .
Chapter Eleven
AK
Five days later . . .
I drank the beer, letting the cold liquid run down my throat. The night had gotten warmer, so I sat at the back of my cabin, a cooler filled with beer by my side. The sky was black and there wasn’t a damn cloud in the sky. Vike left for the clubhouse about an hour ago, enlisted Ash to be his DD for the night. I wasn’t thinking about sluts tonight. Fuck, I hadn’t been thinking about them all week. Wasn’t interested in some slut raking at my chest and sucking on my junk. What was the fucking point? I looked through my kitchen window to see the clock on the wall. Five minutes to midnight. My eyes prickled with tiredness, but I knew I wouldn’t get more than a couple of hours if I tried to sleep. Because they’d be at the end of my bed in a second. And I really couldn’t stand seeing those fucking faces glaring at me. They’d given me a couple of days rest, of course. I knew they would. The minute I helped Phebe, helped her purge the fucking heroin from her veins, I knew they’d go for a while. But I also knew that when they came back it would be worse. So much fucking worse. Memories that I thought I’d pushed away for good came back to pelt me between the eyes like a perfect shot. As they stood at the bottom of the bed, they showed me details I’d forgotten. Details I couldn’t fucking think about without losing my damn breath. But the guilt was worse. Ripping into my stomach like talons. So I’d stay awake. Because I really couldn’t cope with those memories right now. I finished the beer I was drinking and was opening another when I heard footsteps on the grass. “What’s wrong?” I asked as Flame, avoiding my eyes, came over to where I sat. “Nothing.” He sat down in the chair next to me. “Nothing’s wrong? You sure?” He nodded, his dead, black eyes staring out at the trees. I watched his jaw clench, the knives in his hands turning over in his palms. Since we’d got back from Klan Kunt’s ghost town, the fresh cuts on his arms had healed and his knives were blunt again. He still traced the flesh, but he made no new fresh cuts. He was back with Maddie. He was settled. I sat back in my seat. Whatever Flame came here to say would come out eventually. I tipped back my head, staring at those motherfucking stars. “You’re being weird.” I froze, bottle almost at my mouth and took a deep breath. I lowered the bottle and looked over at Flame. His head was tilted toward me, but he never made eye contact. His muscles were tense under his cut, and his eyes twitched. Shit. I had the fucker worried. “I’m good,” I said neutrally. Flame’s lips rolled over his teeth. “You’re lying,” he spat and got to his feet. I sighed when he started pacing. “Flame,” I said. “I’m good. Stop worry—” “You ain’t been speaking much, or going to the clubhouse.” His voice was cold and direct, but I could
see by the narrowing of his eyes that his mind was racing, trying to understand what had changed within me. “It’s not the right date yet.” Hell, the brother may as well have slammed his iron fist into my stomach. My hand tightened on the neck of the bottle. I squeezed it until I thought the glass would give way under my grip. I released it and shook my head. “Flame,” I said slowly. “Let it go. I’m good.” “It’s months away from now,” he continued. “But you’re acting the same as you do then.” My stomach hollowed out as the memories I kept pushed aside started breaking through my defenses. I saw the blood, heard the fucking screams and smelled the tinny odor that filled the room. “Flame,” I warned, close to losing my shit. I felt the lump climbing up my throat. Felt water hitting my eyes. “It’s because of her.” He abruptly stopped his pacing. Looking up, I met the brother’s stare head on. I jumped to my feet, fueled by anger at the fact he’d brought this to me now. But I stopped dead when I saw him shaking his head, a damn lost expression on his face. “You’re AK. You don’t do this. Why’re you doing this now? It’s not time. It’s not the right month. It doesn’t make sense.” I closed my eyes and drew in a long, deep breath. When I opened them again, Flame was rocking on his feet awkwardly. “It’s because of her.” He wasn’t asking a question. People thought Flame was fucked up. His father had told him repeatedly that he was a retard. But the brother was perceptive. He never forgot a thing. And more than that, since the day I helped free him from that nuthouse, he’d made sure he knew me better than anyone. Everyone thought I watched over him. I knew the truth—he watched over me too. “I’m good,” I repeated and sat down again. I ran my hand down my face. “Sit down, Flame.” He paused, but did as I said. I took another bottle of beer, feeling the effects of drinking all day beginning to hit me. “It’s since we took her,” he said. “Since you let her in here with you. She’s made you think of it all again.” I opened my mouth to reply, but he continued. “You don’t sleep. But it’s worse since she’s come back. You sit out here all the time. You’re drinking. You never drink this much.” I knew there was no point in denying it. For the brother to be here, to have left Maddie in their cabin alone, his concern for me must have been eating him alive. So I stayed quiet. I sure as hell wasn’t gonna talk about shit that didn’t need to be talked about. I hadn’t since the day it happened, and I wasn’t gonna start now. “I’ll get through it,” I said after minutes of silence. “I’ll . . .” I swallowed against the choking in my throat. “I always do.” “You never have,” Flame countered, no emotion in his voice. “And never will,” I agreed. My voice was raspy, so I cleared my throat. I refused to fucking break down. “It wasn’t your fault,” Flame said aggressively. “I don’t know how many times you have to be told that shit.” “And I ain’t ever gonna accept that.” I refused to close my eyes, because if I did I’d see their faces. I’d see what I should have still had, had I not been so fucking stupid. “She’s better.” I knew he was talking about Phebe. “Maddie has seen her, and she’s better. Maddie has been watching her for me, for you. You saved her.” I nodded, the tightness in my chest loosening some. She was better. Fuck, from Flame that may as well have been a fucking happy jig. Red’s face came to my mind. I hadn’t been to see her since she’d been up at Ky’s. I hadn’t even asked how she was. I’d gotten her out, gotten her off the smack. That was enough. Though I’d thought about her pretty much every day. Thought about her out here, looking at the stars. Her reunion with Lilah . . . thought of her face when she saw her sister’s scar . . . of her hand in mine when she had thanked me, so fucking small in her bed . . . her telling me she was afraid . . . “I don’t . . .” Flame gritted his teeth. “I don’t like you . . . like this.” The sound of Flame’s low, rough voice made me feel nothing but guilt.
“I know,” I said. “I’ll get through it.” Flame’s shoulders dropped in relief, then he got to his feet. “Good.” He started to walk away. “Flame?” I called as my brother’s huge body almost disappeared into darkness. He turned. “You spoke to Ash much lately?” He was as still as the night. “We worked on the bike today.” The tension was back in his voice. It always was when he feared he’d fucked up somehow. That he’d disappointed me. “Just keep talking to him, okay? Keep asking him around for dinner and shit.” “Okay,” Flame said, then without another word, left for his cabin. “Fuck!” I said to no one. I closed my eyes, letting the alcohol take its hold. I heard the sound of a twig snapping and sighed. “Flame, I promise, I’m good. I just wanna be left the fuck alone.” I opened my eyes . . . and froze. I blinked when I saw her standing there, watching me. She took a step forward, and another, until she came into the light. It was her hair I saw first, long and down to the middle of her back. She was dressed in a long dark-green dress, tied at the top by some flimsy piece of silk string. The sleeves covered her arms, but fuck . . . the deep color made her freckles stand out more everywhere else. “Hello,” she said eventually, her fucking sweet voice drifting through the night. I ran my eyes down her body. She was still rail thin, but she looked better than she had five days ago. Had some color back in her white cheeks. The bruising and marks had faded. She had some dark circles under her eyes, but that was about it. Shit. She was fucking stunning. “Hey.” I sat straighter in my chair. Phebe’s dropped her head and looked back up at me through hooded eyes. My cock hardened as she started walking toward me. She smiled and tucked her long hair back behind her ears. “I wanted to come and see you,” she said. I let my eyes run down her tall body. The dress was fitted to her small frame, emphasizing every one of her curves. Perfectly showcasing her full tits under the almost-nothing material. She slowly lowered her body into the seat beside me. The smell of flowers and some other girlysmelling shit filled my nose. As if she knew the effect she was having on me, she fucking smiled. But her smile quickly faded and her eyes lost their shine. “I . . . I have been having trouble sleeping.” I took a sip from my beer, letting her speak. “I have found that since I have been here, I cannot settle.” She closed her eyes and tilted her head to the side, exposing her long, smooth neck. Her hand lifted and, painstakingly slowly, drifted down the skin. A breathy sigh left her naturally red lips. I gripped my beer bottle tightly. “I love nothing more than having the wind on my face,” she said without opening her eyes. A smile formed on her lips. “I like to feel the heat on my face when it’s light and the moon’s rays when it’s dark.” She arched her back, and I gritted my teeth as her round tits pushed against the fabric of her dress. There wasn’t much light out here, but it was enough for me to see that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Her eyes blinked open, and leaning across the space between our two chairs, she took the beer from my hand. Giving me that fucking smile again, she brought the bottle of Bud to her lips. Slowly and carefully, without fucking taking those blue eyes off mine, she wrapped her lips around the bottle and tilted her head back. She swallowed one, two, three sips before lowering the bottle, licking the rim with the tip of her tongue. She handed it back to me. I was pretty far gone on liquor. I’d barely drunk anything but tequila, whiskey and beer since I’d dropped Red off five days ago, and right now she was fucking with my mind. Phebe ran her hand through her hair. “I . . . I could not sleep again tonight and decided on a walk. So I followed my feet.” She paused. “And they led me straight to you.” “They did, huh?” I said gruffly, feeling my ever-expanding cock practically ripping at the fly of my jeans.
“Yes.” She glanced at the floor. Her casual manner disappeared, and she twisted her hands in her lap, her fingers shaking. “I keep remembering your eyes,” she said suddenly, lifting her gaze to mine. I drank my beer, but fuck if I could drag my attention off her. My motherfucking eyes. When she was under, when she was awake, she kept talking about my eyes. My eyes and that goddamned tree. “I do not remember yet. I keep trying to recall what happened when he took me. Where I was. What happened there. I keep feeling as though there was something that I need to know. Must know. Something big that I am forgetting. That I am blocking out.” She raised her hands to her head. “But my head is a great fog, one which I cannot break through no matter how hard I try.” She looked at me, and she stopped shaking. “But strangely, I remember you. You, above anything or anyone else.” Leaning forward, she brought her hand to my face. I fucking froze as she ran her fingertips down my cheek. “I remember you. And these angel eyes.” Phebe got to her feet and came toward me, stopping at my knees. I sat back in my chair, and she looked down at me. Even in the dim light, I could see her pale cheeks were red. “You saved me.” There wasn’t one bit of me that wasn’t tense as she spoke those words. She bent down and placed her palms on my thighs. My hips shifted as I felt the heat of her hands through my jeans. “I remember being in your arms.” Her hands started moving up my thighs, one inch at a time. “Red,” I growled as her face moved ever closer to mine. Even in my drunken state I could see her pupils dilate. “Red,” she said as her mouth met my ear. “I like this name you call me. Red.” Her lips hit my cheek, then dragged across my skin until they hovered over my mouth, her eyes meeting mine. “I always stood out as a child because of my red hair. I was not blond like Rebekah or my other sisters. Not pretty, with smooth, flawless skin like the rest. I was not a Cursed, nor was I gifted in any way. I was freckled and pale. Yet I was still called for a higher mission.” She smiled and arched her back, her tits pressing into my chest. I groaned, one hand flexing on the side of my chair. I dropped my beer to the ground, the glass thudding as it hit the grass. “Then it all went wrong. Everything changed.” She stilled. She pressed a single, slow kiss to my mouth. “And you saved me . . . twice.” Phebe’s fingers crawled up toward my dick. I grabbed her wrist with my free hand. “You need to stop,” I ordered. Her eyes flared. “I do not want to stop,” she said breathlessly. “I have thought of you and nothing else these past five days.” She had no idea what and who she was fucking with. If she did, she would back away. “Keep going and I’ll fuck you, Red. Can’t be pressing your big tits on me if you ain’t wanting me to fucking own them.” I caught the hitch of her breath and felt her pulse race under my fingers. “I’ll fuck you right here. I’ll fuck you and lick you and not stop until you’re screaming my name. You want that, bitch?” Her shaky breath passed over my face. I smelled liquor on her breath, saw her pupils dilate and her freckled skin flush red at my crass words. I knew she was about to turn away, run back into the darkness. I knew she would pull back and go back home. And I knew— “AK,” she whispered, and my narrowed eyes snapped to hers. Her bright-blue eyes were lit with something I didn’t expect—desire. Then a motherfucking twitch flickered at the side of her mouth, and she pulled her wrist from my hand, reaching down to cup my hard cock. She licked her lips. “AK . . . I want you . . . to own me.” And I fucking snapped. Lurching forward, I slammed my hands on her face and crushed her mouth to mine. I plunged my tongue alongside hers, pulling her head down as she moaned into my mouth. I fucking savaged her lips, bruising the flesh. I lowered my hands to her hips and pulled her down onto my lap. She crashed on top of me, never breaking from my mouth. I groaned as her hand began rubbing along the fly of my jeans. My tongue sank deeper, and I reached down and pulled up her dress, almost ripping the fucking material in two when
I couldn’t get to her legs. But then my palms met flesh. Phebe broke from my mouth, gasping, and trailed her lips and tongue down my neck. Her fingers snapped at the buttons on my fly. I bit my lip as she split the denim and her hand wrapped around my cock. Her hips rolled and her pussy ran along my thigh as she pumped me in her hand. Her mouth to my ear, her long red hair falling over my cheek. “AK,” she moaned, and I fucking jerked in her hand. I closed my eyes, holding back the need to flip her onto the ground and fuck her like she wanted. But then she was sliding down my body, her dress slipping through my fingers. I opened my eyes and watched as her knees hit the ground, her hand still gripping my cock. The top of her dress had loosened, and from this angle I could see right down the front. It wasn’t enough. “Open your dress,” I instructed, my voice sounding like cut steel. Phebe bit down on her lip and smiled. She never moved those fucking blue eyes from mine as she released my dick and sat back so I could see her every move. Her fingers crawled up her green dress to the tie at the neckline. Her tongue lapped at her lips as she pulled open the string keeping the top together. Her tits bounced underneath, like they were just waiting to spring free and be in my mouth. She panted. Panted as she rocked her hips back and forth. She flicked her head, and her long red hair fell to one shoulder, exposing one side of her neck. I clenched my fists, resisting the urge to leap forward and sink my teeth into her pale skin. She was a damn siren. The string fell open. My nostrils flared, barely hanging on to my patience as she took one hand and gently pulled the top of her dress to the side. Her bright white skin gleamed like milk in the moonlight. Her eyelids closed. I growled low, palming my own cock as her other hand moved to the hem of her dress. Breathy moans slipped from her throat. She dropped her shoulder, and the fabric slipped from one of her tits. The flesh was full and the skin just as speckled with freckles as everywhere else. Her fingers crept over the skin on her chest until they found her hard nipple. I stroked my dick, up and down, in long hard motions as she palmed her tit. Then her mouth dropped open. I focused on the hand between her legs and I almost came. She had lifted the skirt of her dress, baring her pussy to me. Only it wasn’t only her fucking perfect pussy that had my hand working faster on my dick, it was the fact that two of her fingers were already in her hole. Her thumb strummed back and forth on her clit, her eyes rolling up toward the sky. “Fuck, bitch,” I groaned, watching the blood rush to her face and her freckles disappear into the flush. “AK,” she murmured as she worked herself harder and harder. Her moans deepened and grew louder as she pumped her hands faster. She squeezed her tit, pinching her nipple, and she cried out. My hand on my cock stilled as I watched her shoulders edge forward and her mouth open wider. Her arm shook as she worked her fingers in her pussy so fast that I could barely sit still. And then she froze, face framed in pleasure as a guttural moan tore from her mouth. Her head slammed back, exposing her throat as her hand was coated in her own wetness. Redness spread like a raging flood over her pale skin as she desperately searched for breath. I hadn’t moved a fucking inch, watching the bitch make herself fall apart. With her eyes still closed, a wide smile spread on her lips, she lowered her head, her fingers on both her tit and in her pussy beginning to move again. When her eyes opened, pupils blown, she focused straight on me. Releasing herself, she inched her way across the grass toward me. When she arrived at my knees, she worked herself between my thighs until her tits were at my exposed cock. She took hold of me in her hand. The fingers that had been all up in her cunt rose toward my mouth as she began stroking up and down my cock with her other hand. Her fingertips ran along my bottom lip. She watched me like a hawk as I grabbed hold of her wrist and kept it at my mouth. Her chest rose up and down as I flicked out my tongue and licked her fingers. The taste of her filled my mouth, and I groaned. Her breath was shaky as she watched me, and from the hardness of her nipple I knew she was getting off
on it. So I took her fingers deeper into my mouth as her hand jerked faster on my cock. I wrapped my lips around them, tonguing off the juice. “Mm,” she moaned, pulling her fingers from my mouth. Her eyes lit with fire, and the edges of her mouth hooked into a smile as she leaned forward and ran her tongue around the seam of my lips. “I can taste myself on you,” she whispered and squeezed my dick tightly. “Red,” I warned, the grip on my self-control evaporating rapidly. I leaned forward to kiss the fuck out of her mouth, but she dodged away before I could. She sank lower, then lower still until, mouth braced at the tip of my cock, she said, “I want to taste you.” Before I could even take a damn breath, she lowered her lips around my dick, not stopping until she’d deep-throated my entire length. And I wasn’t fucking small. In fact, I knew I was huge. But she took me to the back of her throat without even gagging once. “Shit, Red,” I groaned as I reached out to fist my hand in her hair. Then she really showed me what she could do. She worked me up and down, up and down, circling the head with her tongue when she reached the top. My balls tightened when her hand cupped them and worked them with her fingers. She mewled and moaned as she ate me, like the bitch was fucking starving. I felt heat building at my balls, so I dragged her hungry mouth from my dick by her hair. Phebe gasped for air. She scrambled to get her mouth back on me, but I had other plans. I reached down and pulled her to her feet. Her big lips were swollen and red. She edged forward and crawled onto my lap. Her thighs dropped over each of mine, and her tits scraped against my bare chest. I hissed as her teeth dragged down my neck. Reaching forward, I pulled the rest of her dress off her tits and took them in my hands. Her lips sucked at my neck and she moaned, getting louder when I lowered my hands to her pussy and slid my fingers inside. “Fuck, bitch,” I hissed as her hands ran down over my pecs and down to my abs. “You’re fucking drenched.” “For you.” She tilted her head back as I brushed my finger over her swollen clit. “All for you.” “I’m gonna fuck you, Red. I’m gonna fuck you real hard.” Phebe smiled and leaned down until her mouth was at my ear. Knocking my hand from her pussy, she gripped my cock and lowered herself down until I was filling her wet hole. “No,” she said softly, tracing the outline of my ear with her tongue. “I am going to fuck you.” I didn’t think it was possible to get any fucking harder, but as she whispered those words into my ear, I did. Then she gripped onto my shoulders and slammed down, until I was filling her. Her forehead pressed against mine, and her nostrils flared. Then the bitch started moving. Using her hands on my shoulders, she rocked back and forth, rolling those fucking hips until I could see nothing but her. All red—hair, flushed face, nipples. Fucking red all up in my shit. I dropped my hands and slammed them on her ass. Phebe’s chest arched forward, pushing her nipples against my mouth. As she rode me, rode me harder and harder, faster and faster, I sucked her nipple into my mouth and bit down. Phebe cried out, her hips jerking, choking the fuck out of my cock. “AK,’ she cried as she moved her hands up into my hair to keep my mouth on her tits. My hands tightened on her ass, and I began moving her faster. I wanted to be as far in her cunt as I could get. Phebe’s fingers gripped my hair so tight it felt like she was ripping out the strands. But I didn’t fucking care. She could tear the fuckers out if she wanted. My balls were tightening, and by the clenching of her pussy, I knew the bitch was close too. Phebe’s breathing changed, and she loosened her grip on my hair. She leaned back, taking her tit from my tongue. Her pace increased, her moans came faster, but all of that meant shit when she drew her gaze to me. Her hands moved to my cheeks, and when I knew both of us were about to come, she stared into my eyes, and damn if it didn’t seem she could see right through me. Phebe movements became erratic, her mouth parting slightly. Then she stilled and let out a long moan.
Her pussy clamped down on my already-leaking cock, and as she came, flooding me with her wetness, I threw my head back and came too. I fucking came and came, holding the bitch down on my fat cock until I’d filled her with my cum. I growled, jerking into her hot cunt until I was drained. Fucking wrung dry. Sweat beaded over my forehead and trickled down my back. I fought to breathe as I came through the fog that was in my head. Eventually I opened my eyes. Phebe’s hands were still on my face. Her eyes were still fixed on mine. And I watched as tear after tear fell down her flushed cheeks. I froze, wondering what the fuck was wrong, but then she opened those talented lips and asked softly, “Who did you see when you saved me?” My muscles tensed so hard I was convinced the fibers would snap. Her head tilted to the side as she studied me, and her fingers stroked my cheeks. “What haunts you?” Then a truly fucking heartbreaking smile landed on her mouth. But this smile had fuck all to do with happiness. It was the kind of smile that stopped you falling apart. A fucking lie. A false front. Like the one Flame had accused me of wearing. Phebe brought her face closer to mine. I could feel the heat from her damp skin. And fuck, I could smell the salt from her tears. But I was paralyzed. The bitch’s words had me completely motionless, my cock softening inside her. She dragged in a stuttered breath, then stroked back the hair from my face. “Who keeps you in this prison? A prison like mine?” she repeated, but my mouth was sealed tight. I knew my breathing was coming out hard through my nose, but I knew nothing else beyond her searching eyes, her tears and those fucking gutting questions. Phebe’s lips pressed a kiss to each cheek, then to my forehead and finally my mouth. She stayed there, kissing my closed lips. My hands were iron tight on her ass, but when her tongue probed at my lips, I let her in. But this kiss wasn’t like when we fucked. The bitch was being gentle, fucking caring. Fucking destroying me. Who keeps you in this prison? A prison like mine? She kissed me for a minute, maybe two, before pulling back. Nose pressed against my own, she ran her hand over my forehead, then softly down my cheek. “You are not so dissimilar to me, I think.” She smiled as more tears fell down her pale cheeks. “I see it in your eyes. I . . .” Her breathing hitched. “I see . . . me.” Phebe shifted and, pulling herself off my cock, got to her feet. She fixed her dress and tipped her head back to the night sky. She took three deep breaths, then turned her head to me. “AK,” she said softly in farewell and walked away. I watched her as she faded into the darkness. I stared after her for fuck knows how long. I ran my hand down my face. My head was spinning. I reached down and tucked my flaccid cock back into my jeans. I could still taste her pussy on my lips. I could still see her on the ground before me, letting herself come. But I could also still see those tears streaming down her face. Who haunts you? I took out a new bottle of beer and downed the amber liquid in three swallows. Then I chased it with the bottle of tequila under my chair. I drank until I blacked the fuck out. When I woke up, still in the chair, the night still black, I stared at the people parading before me. The fuckers who never, ever left me alone. I lifted my head as my drunken eyes took in the bleeding forms walking toward me, getting in my face. Their black eyes were soulless pits as they stared me down, never letting me move on. I closed my eyes, trying to block them from my sight. “Them,” I said hoarsely. I took a shuddering breath, feeling my own tears running down my cheeks. “I was trying to save them . . . but it never works . . . nothing ever works. They’ll never leave me alone.” I fell back to sleep, feeling Phebe’s hands on my face and her lips on my mouth. I see it in your eyes . . . I see . . . me. And Christ, but I saw her too.
Chapter Twelve
AK
I pulled my bike to a stop outside my cabin. I lowered the scarf from my face and wiped two days’ worth of dirt from my cheeks. I kicked my leg off the bike and pounded through the door to my cabin and into the kitchen. “You’re back,” Ash said as he came into the room. I arced my hand to the back of his head and brought him in to my chest. “You good?” “Yeah,” he replied nonchalantly, then ducked his head shyly like he always did. I pulled a smoke from my pack and offered one to him. He took it and I lit up, waiting for him to say whatever it was he was building up to. “I’ve been to Flame’s the past two nights,” he eventually said. I looked up at the little fucker’s face. You’d think my psycho brother had just given this kid the world. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” He tried to hide his smile. “I stayed over last night. Madds made up a bed for me in the spare room, before I even had a chance to say I’d just come back here.” “Flame good with that?” He nodded. “Even stayed up with me for a bit after Madds had gone to bed. He didn’t say much, but he showed me all his knives. He even had a drink with me.” He shrugged. “We mostly sat in silence, but . . .” He took a deep breath. “It was . . . good. You know?” “I do,” I said and felt my fucking still-tight chest loosen some. Flame had fucking listened to me, the asshole. “You get the drop done?” Ash moved to the fridge and pulled me out a beer. I took it, then went to my liquor cabinet for my bottle of bourbon—I needed something stronger. But it wasn’t there. “You took my bourbon?” “No,” he replied. I raised my eyebrow. “You lying?” “No.” He shook his head. “I’d tell you if I did.” I frowned when I saw my new bottle of Patrón was also missing. “Tequila’s gone too.” I grabbed the bottle of Jack and took a few sips. I closed my eyes as it burned going down. “Maybe Vike took it?” Ash offered as I slumped down at the table. “He was around here some when you were gone.” He blushed. “He was pissed you left without him. So was Flame.” I nodded, knowing that would be true. I never went on any drop without Flame and Vike. But . . . shit . . . after the mindfuck that was two nights ago, I needed some alone time on the road. I got to my feet, about to go shower when my cell vibrated in my pocket. “Fuck!” I snarled. “Can’t I get a fucking minute?” I opened the screen as I entered my bedroom. There was a text from Ky. KY: You back yet? ME: Just. KY: You might wanna get to the clubhouse. Right the fuck now. What the fuck had happened? A second text came through. KY: Your cold-turkey shit seems to have backfired. I stared at the text, and my stomach lurched. Phebe. ME: On my way.
Throwing on a fresh shirt, I flew out of my bedroom, down the hallway and into the kitchen. “I need to get to the clubhouse,” I said to Ash. The kid jumped up and grabbed the truck’s keys off the counter. “I’ll drive.” I slammed out of my front door, wondering what the fuck had happened to Phebe. What the hell did Ky mean by “your cold-turkey shit seems to have backfired”? Ash slid into the driver’s seat and switched on the engine. Clearly sensing my urgency, he gunned it out of our cabins’ clearing and onto the dirt path. “Everything okay?” Ash asked as we raced up the hill. “No fucking idea,” I replied, my hands fisting on my lap. I tried to think about what the hell Phebe could have been doing in two days. Vike and Flame hadn’t said shit, but then again, those fuckers weren’t speaking to me on account of the fact I took off without them. We pulled in at the back of the clubhouse. The place was packed—usual weekend shit. Rows of bikes stood outside, and loud music pumped from the main bar. I smashed through the back door, following the music. The bar was thick with smoke, sluts and drink. I scanned the room and saw a hand waving in the air. Ky was up on his feet in the far corner. I pushed a fuck-ton of hangers-on out of my goddamn way as I plowed to where he stood. As my path cleared, I saw Styx and Mae around a table. Lilah sat nursing a glass of wine, a fucking horrified look on her face. A chair slammed back, and suddenly Flame was in my face. The brother smashed his hands on my chest and pushed me back. I steadied myself. I knew I’d get this shit from him. “What the fuck?” he snarled. Maddie reached up to grab his hand. Smiler, Tank and Bull looked on from the next table. Beauty and Letti were watching something across the bar, ignoring Flame. Solomon and Samson—the brothers Rider had brought from the cult—were there too. They always were lately. I held up my hands. “I get it. You’re pissed.” Flame’s head twitched in response. I stepped closer. “I just . . .” I shook my head. “Fuck, I just needed to be alone for a couple days. Okay?” Flame’s focus was on the floor, not meeting my eyes, but I saw his shoulders lose some of their tension. “Don’t do it again. Prick.” He moved out of my way, and I passed him to get to Ky. Styx had appeared by his side. “Take a fucking look.” Ky pointed across the room. I ran my gaze over every fucker in my way. Then finally, I saw a flash of red hair, and my eyes nearly bulged out of my head. “What the fuck?” I snapped, stepping to the side to see better. The new angle only caused me to lose even more of my shit. Across the room was Phebe. Only she wasn’t the Phebe I’d rescued from the Klan, nor the bitch that had come to me two nights ago and fucked me better than I’d ever been fucked in my entire life. This whore in front of me was at the bar, slim arms draped all over some asswipe who was minutes away from meeting the boatman with no fucking coins on his eyes. My hands shook as they formed into fists at my side. Phebe’s hair was loose down her back, washed and fucking beaming red. And it was all curled and shit. Makeup was plastered all over her face, bright-red lipstick on her full lips. But the war paint wasn’t what had me seething. It was what she was wearing that had me nearly bursting a fucking capillary. She was wearing a flimsy white top that was almost fucking see-through. Her nipples were showing underneath. And it was tied up, showing her flat stomach and perfectly outlining her tits. Her skirt was long, but even from here I could see her legs through the material. And I could see her panties underneath. Or what looked more like a motherfucking thong. She threw her head back, and her laugh rang out even over the pounding rock music. “Bitch snuck out without us knowing,” Ky said. Styx narrowed his eyes at Phebe making a fucking idiot of herself. Even the club sluts were looking at her as if she was pathetic. “Apparently Beauty came to visit yesterday and told her about the clubhouse on a weekend. Wanted to warn Phebe about what she
might find here. Li had told her she could come tonight.” Ky shook his head. “Came to get her, only to find her already gone.” He paused. “As well as the fourth bottle of Jack from my bar this week. Turns out she wasn’t scared of the idea of being here. The bitch wanted it.” I looked back at Phebe. Fuck, she was trashed. Her arms were still all over the same prick at the bar, but when I looked harder, I could see the bitch could barely stand. She was falling all over, her heavily made-up eyes rolling around in her fucking head. Then it hit me. “The bourbon and Patrón,” I said out loud. If Ky and Styx were paying me any attention, I didn’t see. “Fuck!” I spat. I thought back to the night she’d fucked me. I’d been drunk myself, but I could remember tasting liquor on her lips. “She’s turned from smack to spike.” I felt that goddamn trickle of familiarity run down my spine. Back here again. “Yeah, and liquor makes that bitch as rabid as fuck,” Ky said. He rubbed a scratch on his cheek. It looked fresh. “My reward for trying to get her the fuck home.” He glanced to Lilah, who was still watching Phebe with worry in her eyes. “Screamed at Li too. Shocked the life outta her.” Ky’s face darkened. “Took all I had not to knock the bitch out and drag her back to our house by her damn hair.” I snapped my head to Ky. His comment pissed me the fuck off. But he was glaring across the room at Phebe. “Way I see it,” Ky said and shrugged, “is that she’s free and single to fuck whoever the hell she likes. Let her get spit-roasted by every dude here if she wants. I couldn’t fucking care. But Li does.” He tapped me on the back. “Thought seeing as though it was your plan to lock her in your cabin for a week to ground her high ass from chasing the dragon, you might want this job too.” My lips curled at Ky’s shitty expression and Styx’s shit-eating grin. And I’d never tell them so, but damn right I wanted back at this bitch. She was getting under my skin. And right now she was a fucking knife under my fingernails. A loud crash sounded across the bar, and some guy I didn’t know launched himself at someone else, a halfsmashed bottle in his hand, ready to stab it into the other guy’s throat. Tank and Bull were on their feet in seconds. Bull cracked his neck. “Time to throw out the deadbeats.” Tank flicked his head, and the two massive fuckers plowed into the crowd, Samson and Solomon following behind. I looked around for Phebe, but the woman was nowhere to be found. “Shit,” I hissed under my breath. I fought my way through the mass of people, looking for the flame-red hair, punching the first fuckwit who got in my way. The more people got in my face, hungering for the fight, the more pissed I became. My fists flew, eager to smash the nose of anyone who dared fuck with me right now. When I arrived at the far corner of the bar, a hand landed on my shoulder. I turned, livid at whoever dared fucking push me, and saw Tanner with his hands in the air. “Calm the fuck down, ’K.” He raked his hand down his face. He looked like shit. “I gotta talk to you,” he said, pushing me outta the way of the growing fight. Dickheads and liquor equaled a fucking weekly bar brawl. “Not right now.” I tried to push past him. He got in my path, and it took all I had not to deck the White Prince. “Tanner. Move,” I warned, scanning the room for Phebe. Bitch had vanished. I barged past, but Tanner grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back. I turned and swung, but the brother ducked and grabbed my collar, bringing me in close. “He fucking knows!” It took all of about three seconds for his words to sink through the noise straight into my head. “Just hacked an email between him and my brother. He’s on the hunt for whoever took his bitch.” He paused. “He’s on the hunt for you.” “Fuck,” I spat, feeling every ounce of blood in my body ignite into flames.
“Beau told him he didn’t know any of you on the list. I checked the rest of Meister’s server. It didn’t take him long to suspect the Hangmen. Turns out Judah told him all about us. And though it never came from Phebe’s mouth, Meister knows Phebe’s sister is here.” He shook his head. “He knows she’s married to the VP.” He glanced across at Ky, who was watching us like a damn hawk. “He’s gonna come looking.” “I don’t give a fuck how militarized they are, that gang of rednecks ain’t no match for the Hangmen. Especially when Styx and Ky find out. We’ll have reinforcements here within hours.” “I agree. Just wanted you to know. Meister referenced you. Carson. He knows you’re an ex-sniper, and the fucker is using every Marine contact he has to work out who the fuck you are. And that cunt is thorough.” “I know. I fucking met him, remember?” My eyes fell to the outside door. “Go tell Ky and Styx. They’ll figure this shit out.” Tanner took off across the room. As I reached the back door, Hush and Cowboy were walking through. Cowboy turned his head in the direction of the bar, and a fucking huge grin spread across his face. “Fuckin’ A,” he purred in his strong Cajun accent. “Got a huge boner for a fight tonight.” Cowboy and his Stetson disappeared into the crowd. Hush tipped his head toward me. “Ain’t sure, but I’m thinking the bitch we got out of the Klan is in the alley ’bout to fuck some cunt.” Fire lit in my stomach, and I was out the door quicker than I’d ever fucking moved in my life. Red clouded my eyes—all day, fucking red. My lungs worked hard as I breathed in the warm air and my eyes tracked every part of the alley. And then I heard it. That fucking high-pitched moan that had kept me hard for forty-eight hours straight. And that breathy sigh that the bitch made as she’d put her fingers in her cunt and worked herself over until she came. I slipped my hand into my back pocket, pulled out my switchblade and snapped it ready in my hand. I walked slowly into the alley, all stealth. The light from the clubhouse cast a perfect light on them but kept me hidden in the darkness. I saw Phebe’s red head slide down the bastard’s body toward the floor. I watched as the bitch looked up at him with those same fuck-me eyes she’d used on me. And I watched, anger building inside me like fucking hellfire. The prick reached into his jeans and pulled out his cock. He pushed forward as Phebe put on her little show. Then his hand was in her hair and he was wrenching her forward. Phebe didn’t even cry out as his fingers almost tore her hair from its roots. The bitch just opened her mouth, waiting for his dick. And that was all I could fucking take. I rushed forward and slammed my shoulder into the prick who had his dick just an inch from Phebe. I tackled the shit to the floor and pounded my fist into his ugly face. The fat shit grunted and tried to throw a punch back. I laughed in his face as I dodged it and raised my switchblade high for him to see. He paled, and I stepped back off his body. A look of relief appeared on his face. What the fucker didn’t know was that I lived for the chase. He struggled to get up off the ground. One hand scrambled forward as the other fought to stuff his tiny cock back into his jeans. He glanced back, and the relief turned into terror as he saw me stalking slowly toward him. I laughed. Leaning down, enjoying seeing the piece of shit trying to get out of the alley, I took my blade and slashed one swipe across his Achilles. The shitbag screamed and clutched his ankle. He looked me in the face. “Messed with the wrong bitch, fucker,” I taunted. “She wasn’t wearing a ‘property’ cut. Told me she wasn’t with no brother,” he tried to argue, but his words only burned my piss more.
“She ain’t free,” I snarled, not even conscious of the words that came from my lips. Then, driven by an old demon I kept locked the fuck away for everyone’s sake, I drew my blade down and sliced through the hamstring of his other leg. The fucker screamed again. But I didn’t stop. Now that I’d started I couldn’t fucking stop. I’d let this feeling become lost deep inside me, locked away. But the thought of this fucker’s hand on Phebe’s head and his cock approaching her mouth had set the fury free. I punched his face, over and over, until his face was mangled and my knuckles were split. “Please,” he begged through his coughs. But I just laughed again. Taking hold of his greasy dark hair, I wrenched his head off the ground and brought my blade to his throat. I stared into his eyes and smelled the familiar scent of piss as the coward wet his pants. The blade pressed into his skin. I was about to strike when two sets of footsteps ran into the alley. “Man down!” I heard Hush shout. “Why the fuck you trying to end this saleau, mon frère?” Cowboy bent down and lifted the peak of his Stetson to study the future corpse below me. “Whew!” he whistled. “’Bout one swipe from meeting the boatman, hey, mon ami?” My teeth were clenched together as I held the asshole by his collar. Someone called my name. It was Hush. “Let us take him for you,” he offered. I shook my head, needing to finish this shit’s life right now. But when Hush leaned in closer and said, “Your bitch just entered the bar again. She’s on the hunt for cock, it looks like,” I fucking broke. I rose with a frustrated growl, dropping the guy to the ground. I tucked my blade back into my pocket and made my way back to the door. I turned to my Cajun brothers. “Dump him or kill him. But if he’s here when I get back, I’ll finish what I started. And I won’t be as kind as I was gonna be.” People sometimes wondered why Flame, Vike and I were called the Psycho Trio. Vike had his own shit to deal with. Flame? One look at that fucker and it spoke for itself. And me? That asshole right there on the floor, hamstring cut and bleeding out, was why I earned that name. But most of my brothers had no idea of the fucked-up shit I’d done in my past. No idea what kind of shit I could still do. What half the time I wanted to do. And that right there was the true nature of a psychopath: committing an act and having fuck all remorse for the shit you’ve done. I threw the bar door open and stepped inside. The place was a mess—the aftermath of the fight. The non-brothers had been cleared the fuck out, which gave me a perfect view of Red . . . and the sight cut me even deeper than the shit I just saw outside. Vike. Motherfucking Vike! My legs shook as I stood in the doorway watching Phebe sitting on Vike’s knee at the bar. Her arm was draped over his shoulders, and she was laughing. But it was Vike’s hand that I was looking at. His fucking huge hand was braced on the bottom of her back, her fucking bare back, inching closer to her ass. Fueled by the anger I’d unleashed outside, I let it take the lead. I stormed across the room, ignoring the sound of Ky calling my name. I grabbed hold of Phebe’s arm and yanked her from Vike’s lap. She cried out in surprise as I shoved her behind me. Vike leaped to his feet, his fuck-off smile beaming right down at me. But I wasn’t seeing my friend right then. I was just seeing his fucking hand on Phebe’s back, her arm around his shoulders. Seeing fucking red. I slammed my hands against his chest, and the giant stumbled back. “What the fuck?” he spat, the smile sliding from his face. “Keep the fuck off her!” I snarled. Vike’s eyes were wide as he glared at me. But I wasn’t done. I came at him again, grabbing his collar and pulling him close to me. “Keep your motherfucking hands off her, or I swear to God you won’t be no brother of mine anymore.” A hand landed on my shoulder, and I spun round. Flame was there, dark eyes wide and nostrils flaring.
I wrestled his hand from me and stormed toward Phebe. I didn’t even give her a chance to react, just took her arm and dragged her from the bar. I passed Ash, whose face was bright white. “Keys,” I demanded as Phebe tried to pull away from me. I held on tight to the bitch. She was pissing me the fuck off. Ash handed me the keys to the truck, and I left the clubhouse with the whore in tow. I heard the sound of Lilah’s and Mae’s panicked voices. I heard Ky trying to come after me. “AK!” he shouted as I reached my truck. I opened the passenger side door and threw Phebe’s almost-naked ass into the seat. I slammed the door and moved around the hood to the driver’s side. “AK!” Ky shouted again. I rounded on him, prepped for another fucking fight. The VP was looking at me weird. He gave me a wide berth. Good fucking choice. “Where the fuck you think you’re going with her, brother?” “You texted me to sort this out. So that’s what I’m fucking doing.” Phebe’s hand came to the driver’s side window and started hammering on the glass. She was shouting some shit I couldn’t decipher, trying to get out, screaming like a fucking banshee. Ky watched her as she almost broke the glass in rage. “You think Li is gonna just be okay with me letting you take her sister?” “You know how to deal with her like this? You know how to deal with a damn junkie? One who’s insistent on trying to fuck her way through the club, cock by cock?” My patience was running thin. Phebe moved to her ass and started kicking at the window with her feet. I heard the seal break; she was about two seconds from shattering the glass. “You got a kid to worry about now. Let this bitch be my problem.” My jaw clenched, and I felt a blade stab in my chest. “Fuck knows I’ve dealt with shit like this before.” I didn’t wait for Ky’s response. I opened the door and pushed inside. Phebe’s hands came raining down on me as she tried to fight. Taking hold of her arms, I pushed her down into her seat and met her furious face. “You fucking stay there. Don’t push me, bitch. Don’t fucking push me.” Her skin was damp with sweat, and she was panting hard. If looks could kill I’d have been ash in seconds. Taking advantage of her brief stillness, I turned on the engine and pulled out of the lot. I hit the dirt path at a stupid speed and focused on getting the hell back to my cabin. It didn’t take the rabid bitch long to attack again. Practically climbing across the console, she sliced her nails down my arms and neck. I kept my eyes on the road, not giving one fuck about the blood she was drawing. The only time I reacted at all was when she sliced four fingers down my cheek. I pushed her back until she was in her seat, out of breath and eyes glazed from too much fucking liquor. I turned into the clearing and slammed the truck into park. She was out of the passenger side door before I could even move. I flew out of my door and sprinted after her ass as she fled for the trees. I reached her in no time and threw her thin body over my shoulder. Phebe clawed at my back. “Let me go,” she spat, pounding her fists on my shoulder blades. I opened the door to my cabin and locked us inside. I put her down on the floor. She staggered back as she righted herself. The light from the kitchen was brighter than the bar, and I took a good look at her eyes. The whites were dull and her eyelids were hooded. Black makeup had smudged around her eyes, making her look like a damn raccoon. “Calm the fuck down,” I ordered. Phebe’s pale skin reddened as she fumed on the spot. I stood my ground, folding my arms across my chest. Then the bitch struck. Her hand sliced across my face. And this time there was fucking force behind it. My head snapped to the side. I’d had enough. Moving forward, I pushed her back to the wall of the hallway. “I swear to God, bitch, I’ll break you if you do that again,” I hissed, getting right in her face. She spat at my cheek. “Let me go!” I could smell the liquor on her breath. “Why, so you can go fuck some greasy asshole? So you can get your pussy filled, like the fucking whore that you are?” “Yes!” she screamed, fighting against my hold. When she couldn’t get free, she brought her face closer and smiled coldly. “I like to be fucked. I like to come. I like dick, and I love nothing more than having someone stick their cock in my mouth then come down my throat.” The anger that been simmering inside
me flared up at the shitty words coming out of her mouth. “And you weren’t so opposed to my pussy the other night,” she taunted. She reached out and bit my earlobe. Bit it fucking hard. I yanked my head back, and she laughed right in my face. “When I had your cock in my mouth, then deep inside of me. I rode you and I made you scream.” My hands shook on her arms as I battled not to hold her too tight. “You wanna be fucked that bad, slut? You want me rip into you and make you scream?” “Yes,” she shouted and tore one of her arms free. She didn’t hit me like I thought she would. Instead her eyelids lowered, and she ran her hand down my stomach until it landed at my cock. She met my eyes and I met hers, and we both just fucking froze. Adrenaline and anger mixed in my veins. I heard the clock ticking in my kitchen and the sound of my AC kicking in. I heard Phebe’s too-fast breathing. She stared. I stared. And I wasn’t too sure who moved first, but one minute I was awash with seething anger, about ready to blow my shit and kick her ass, the next, her mouth was on mine and her tits were right against my chest and my dick was hard. Phebe moaned as I let go of her arm and yanked down her top. Her tits sprang free, and I cupped them in my hands. Phebe’s fingers snapped my jeans open. I broke from her mouth when her hand fisted my cock. “Fuck,” I snapped and lowered my head to take her tit into my mouth. Her free hand wrapped into my hair, pulling at the strands. I sucked on her nipple as her hand stroked up and down my cock. Her breathing was fast and her skin was slick. I pushed her skirt up to her hips. I tore at the scrap of nothing of her panties, ripping them and flicking the ruined material away. My hand slid along her cunt and through her pussy lips until I met her clit. She cried out into my shoulder, then licked at my neck, lapping at my skin. I closed my eyes when her lips came back on mine and her tongue thrust into my mouth. She groaned and moaned and gasped as I took her fucking mouth, making the bitch forget the asshole from the alley and Vike. The thought of her fucking with other men made my blood pound even harder through my veins. Pulling my hands from her clit, I bent down and took hold of her legs. Lifting her up was nothing at all. Phebe moaned and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. I backed her up against the wall, then in one fast push, slammed inside her wet cunt. “AK!” Phebe called out as her head tipped back and hit the wall behind her. I was a fucking man possessed as I thrust into her. Phebe brought her hands to my face and held me in place. She stared into my eyes as I worked my hips, biting on my lip at the feel of her hole choking my dick. Her moans were low and long. Her lips met mine. She fucking ate at my mouth, and I swallowed her cries. My hands gripped her thighs tighter as I drove into her. Her nails raked at my skin, but it only pushed me on. I plowed into her, harder and harder, until I felt her pussy begin to clench. My balls began to ache, and I tore my mouth from hers, tucking my head into her neck. Her cries came louder and louder and her hips rocked faster against mine. “AK . . .” she said, her voice no longer screaming and mad. Her breathy voice was cracked, losing all its anger. And then she came, breath hitching against my skin. Her hands slipped to the back of my neck, her nails drawing blood. With three more thrusts, I came inside her, jerking, sweat dripping down my back, her back scraping against the wall. And then it all went quiet. It was quiet, except for our breathing. Silent enough that I heard her crying before I felt the tears falling down my neck. I heard her crying before I felt her shaking in my arms. I lifted my head, and Phebe tightened her arms around my neck like I was anchoring her. I blinked, not knowing what the fuck to do. As gently as I could, I brought my hand to her face and moved her head from the crook in my shoulder. Phebe resisted at first, but gave way when I said, “Red. Look at me.” Her cheeks were flooded with tears, the pale skin marked with black from her eye makeup. Her red lipstick was smudged across her face. Her tits were out of her ruined top, and her hair was a mess.
She was breaking my goddamn heart. “They will let me see her now,” she slurred quietly. “If I am successful, they will let me hold her hand.” What the . . . ? I brushed the tears off her cheeks with my thumb. She took hold of my hand with her shaking fingers and brought it to her lips, and I felt as though I’d taken a punch to the face. She stared at the broken skin on my knuckles from the fight, kissed over the smear of blood—I didn’t know if it was mine or belonged to someone else. She dropped my hand and gazed at the floor. I stared at her downturned head, and fuck if I didn’t hold her that much tighter. She was broken. Lost. Her words from earlier in the week circled my head. I didn’t know how long I stayed against the wall, just holding her. But eventually all the liquor she’d consumed took its toll, and her forehead fell onto my shoulder. Her breathing evened out, and she fell asleep. I pulled out from inside her and fastened up my jeans with one hand. Phebe shifted in my arms, but she didn’t wake. I carried her through to my bedroom and laid her down on my bed. I pulled the comforter over her almost-naked body. When I looked down at her looking like some fucked-up lost whore, a piece of me died. The sleeves of her top were ripped, showing her scars from the needles. And now we were out of the bar, I could smell the scent of liquor evaporating in waves off her skin. I pulled off my shirt and cut and tossed them to the floor. As I walked into the bathroom I caught my reflection in the mirror, and I froze. The skin on my cheeks, neck, chest and upper back was scratched to fuck and red with blood. Phebe’s lipstick was smeared across my face. My eyes were dark, and as I took a step forward, I was no longer looking at AK, a brother of the Hangmen. Looking right back at me was Xavier Deyes, sniper in the Marines, Special Ops. I knew this fucker and regarded him with nothing but hate. This fucker lived with death in his eyes. And I thought I’d put him to bed years ago. Clearly Red could nudge him awake. Frustrated, not wanting to see his face, I clenched my fist and slammed it into the glass. It shattered in my sink, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. My chest tightened, the lack of the breath I couldn’t catch creeping up on me like a weight bearing down on my ribcage. I backed up to the tub and sat on the edge. My hands were shaking. My always-steady sniper hands couldn’t be calmed. I dropped my head forward, and a barrage of images came racing forward. Blood and screams and anger. Anger that burned so hot and bright it transformed me. Then helplessness, sadness, and motherfucking guilt. So much guilt that I could taste its bitterness on my tongue. Forcing myself to get my shit together, I stood and wiped the lipstick off my mouth with my forearm and wiped the blood off my knuckles into my jeans. I soaked a towel in water and went back to the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I started wiping the black and red off Phebe’s face. As the makeup gave way to her pale skin and freckles, I couldn’t help but relax a little. Fuck knows why she would ever cover up those freckles. I cleaned her face until there was nothing left but her. Phebe. I dressed her in my sweat pants and clean black Hangmen shirt and covered her back up. For twenty minutes I stared down at her, sleeping. I thought of all the liquor she’d stolen this week and realized that since she’d last been here, screaming and smashing up my room as she came off the heroin, she hadn’t been sober. “What is it you can’t face?” I asked her as I leaned over where she lay. She didn’t wake, and I didn’t want her to. Like this, she was at peace. Awake? It seemed she was just as fucked as me.
“Sleep.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead. Her pale skin was cool under my lips. I took my smokes from my back pocket and headed out of the door. Leaning against the outside wall of the cabin, I dropped down to my ass. I kept my head down as I took drag after drag of my smoke. I sat in silence, just fucking thinking. Thinking about shit I never wanted to think about again. The only time I stopped was when I heard feet move into the clearing. I heard the low murmur of voices, then a door close. I sensed them standing before me, so I lifted my head. Vike and Flame were staring at me. I saw Ash go into Flame’s cabin with Maddie, leaving me and my brothers alone. I leaned my head back against the wall and stared at them both. Flame was rocking on his feet. And fuck if that didn’t make me feel even more guilt. He was looking at me like he didn’t know me. Lost. Confused. Suddenly, all I could see was the young Flame from years ago, in that nuthouse, in the bed opposite my brother. And I could see his black eyes as he watched Vike and me break in, his stare as dead and still as his body as he lay in that damn bed. His frame was thin and his arms were tied down. He had about as much life as Devin had had. And when I’d seen him look at me, actually look into my eyes, I’d had to help him. “I’m sorry,” I croaked. The brother froze. His gaze dropped to the ground, and his eyes moved from side to side, thinking over what I’d said. “I . . .” I didn’t know how to say it. “My head . . .” I breathed deep. “It’s . . . it’s fucked up right now.” “We’re your brothers,” Flame said. I knew that was him asking why the fuck I’d turned on them. “You’re my . . . my . . . ” He was struggling with what to say. But I knew. I was his family, the one that got him here. And I’d never let him down before. But by the ache in my gut, I knew I’d let him down now. I swore I never would. Especially not Flame. He didn’t know how to deal with that shit. “Never again,” I promised. His tight face slackened with relief. I looked at Vike. “I fucked up.” Vike shook his head and walked to my side. He sat down beside me. Flame came and sat on my other side. “I didn’t know you were into the bitch.” Vike stared straight across the clearing. “I wouldn’t have gone near her if I did. Thought you just wanted her safe.” “I know,” I said, feeling completely drained of energy. “She makes you different,” Flame said in his usual emotionless tone. “She makes you like you were before.” I winced, knowing that Flame only ever spoke the truth. I winced because I knew it was true. “She reminds you of . . . all that, doesn’t she?” Vike said, not a note of humor in his voice. “I never forgot it,” I said, admitting it for the first time. “Just managed to bury that shit deep enough that it didn’t show. It . . . it was always gonna resurface at some point.” “You see it all when you’re with her?” Flame said. “Yeah.” I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. I sighed and flicked my smoke to the floor. “I’m tired. I’m just so tired of never sleeping. Never closing my eyes because of the shit I see when I do. Of being unable to think of anything in my past because I can’t fucking deal . . .” Vike gripped my shoulder and squeezed. I dropped my head so I didn’t break down like a pussy. “I’m gonna take her to the lodge,” I said. I felt Vike stiffen. Flame hissed through his teeth. “No—” “Yes,” I argued. “She needs to get away and get clean for good. She needs to deal with all her shit away from here. Even from her sister. I saw it her eyes. She’s fucking lost. And she won’t cope if she stays here.” “You ain’t been back to that lodge since . . .” Vike said. “I know. But it’s private and it will be good for her. Isolated.”
“We’re coming.” Flame went to move, no doubt to get Madds. I knew better than to reach out and pull him back. “No,” I said. He turned back to me, his muscles tense. “I’m going alone.” “But—” “Flame. I am. This . . .” I shook my head. “Fuck, brother, I need it too. I . . .” I inhaled deeply. “I’m gonna break if I don’t. I . . . I can feel it happening again. I ain’t got the strength to stop it anymore.” “I don’t like it,” he said roughly. “I know.” “When you going?” Vike asked. “Now.” I pushed to my feet. The door to Maddie’s cabin opened, and Ash stepped out for a smoke. Immediately, his worried eyes fell on me. I flicked my chin and said, “Get the fuck here, kid.” Ash made his way over, hands in his pockets. I put my hand on the back of his head and pulled him in. “I was a dick,” I said and kissed his head. I let him go, and he looked up at me. “It’s all right.” “It ain’t. I just lost it, kid. Shouldn’t have happened.” I glanced back at Flame and Vike. “I’m going away for a while. Look after the cabin for me, yeah?” “Sure.” Ash paused, then asked, “For how long?” “Don’t know. As long as I need to.” I took the truck’s keys from my pocket and threw them at Ash. “Check the oil and shit for me, kid, would you? I’m leaving soon.” “Yeah, okay.” Ash walked away. “Tanner said something to me tonight,” I said to Vike and Flame. “Meister knows it was us. Or suspects it. Tanner thinks there could be shit coming to our door.” “Fuck,” Vike said. He nodded. “We’ll look into it.” I made my way back to my cabin to gather my shit and get Phebe. “I’ll catch you when we’re back.” In fifteen minutes I had my bag packed and in the truck. I went back to the bedroom, lifted Phebe up in my arms and carried her outside. I laid her down on the seat and got in the driver’s side. Vike and Flame came to my door. “You call if you need us, yeah?” Vike said. “Yeah.” I nodded at Flame. I knew he wasn’t happy. Then I pulled away from the clearing, out of the compound and onto the road. I kept the music off as Phebe slept. Thirty minutes in, she shifted in her sleep, her hand spreading out to lie across my thigh. I looked down at her hand, at her fingers lying open. I didn’t know what the fuck came over me, but I moved one of my hands from the wheel and threaded my fingers through hers. Her hands looked tiny and frail wrapped in mine. And for the first time in days, I took what felt like a real fucking breath. And I gripped on to her as we drove closer to the lodge. Where too many demons waited. So I just fucking held on.
Chapter Thirteen
Phebe
I felt the weight of my eyelids before I even opened my eyes. It was hot, and my hair was sticking to my face. My cheek was stuck to whatever I was lying on. It smelled like leather. I moaned as soon as I tried to move. My head ached and my temples throbbed. I lifted my hand to my head and rolled onto my back. I inhaled a sharp breath when that little bit of movement caused nausea to creep up my stomach. I tried to stay still, praying it would go. But I had no such luck. Scrambling to my knees, I opened my eyes and winced at the sun creeping into . . . wherever I was. My hands fumbled around me, and I realized I was in a truck. My fingers found the lever of the door. I yanked it open and dropped my feet onto the dirt ground. I had barely felt the warm, sticky air on my face when I had to curl over and expel whatever was in my stomach. I held on to my hair as I purged, my eyes watering. When the need to vomit had ebbed, I stood up on shaky feet. The world spun, and my head felt clammy. I closed my eyes to stop myself falling over. I rested my back against the side of the truck and concentrated on my breathing. The minute I did, I thought of her. My face scrunched up in agony. But I welcomed the pain that came. It was my punishment, my reward for letting her down . . . “Where is she?” I asked Martha. My skin was still wet from my shower and it was late. Too late, really, but I had done well, and so Brother John had given me permission to seek her out. I had earned thirty minutes of uninterrupted time with her. A rare gift. “She is in her room,” Martha said, still dressed from the night’s mission. “Thank you.” I walked down the hall. “She received her first touch this eve.” I stumbled to a stop and felt a deep fissure split down my heart. It was not imagination—I actually felt it break. A true physical pain. “Who?” I whispered, fighting back the lump from my throat. The tears came to my eyes regardless. I had known this day was coming. I knew it was deemed a blessing, yet I could not feel the joy in my heart that I knew I must. All I could think of was little Sapphira. She was eleven years old. “Prophet David had sent some men here for a visit. One of them chose her from the lineup.” Martha came closer and laid her hand on my shoulder. Her smile was bright. “I can see the pain on your face, but she has won the prophet’s favor tonight.” I nodded numbly, knowing what I should be feeling. Yet I could not. I was aware the devil must have entered my soul to make me doubt our prophet and the ways of our faith, but I could not rejoice. “I must go to her,” I said. “Phebe, I love you. But you must sever the tie you have held on to. It is causing you to feel a burden you should be free from.” I looked at Martha’s face and saw only sympathy. “I was there with you, through it all, as you were with me. I have let go. Now you must.” “I cannot,” I said softly. I laid my hand over my heart. “I have never been able to comply.” I turned from Martha, and with heavy feet, walked to Sapphira’s room. I held my hand at her door, bracing to knock, but my hand remained suspended in the air. My breathing came too fast. What awaited me on the other side of the door? I entered the dimly lit room; only a single candle burned in the corner. Her bed was empty.
“Sapphira?” My heart was in my throat. A gentle sniff came from beside her bed. Numbly, I let my feet lead me, and I found her in the corner of the room, her arms around her knees. Her long blond hair veiled her face, the ends curling on the floor. “Saffy?” I whispered, using my affectionate name for her, my tears thickening at the sight of her so tiny on the ground. Saffy lifted her head. Even in this soft glow, her dark eyes were huge and round . . . and filled with pain. “Phebe?” she said, too quietly. I stepped closer. Her beautiful face scrunched up, and sobs burst from her throat. Instinctively, I flew to her side, called by her pain, and took her in my arms. Her slim body fell into my embrace, and her tears soaked my dress. “Shh.” I tried to soothe her, rocking her gently. But I knew it was no use. I had been here too. I remembered that day as though it had occurred just recently. So I simply held her. I kissed her head as she expelled all her tears. I smelled her hair, trying to memorize the scent. I squeezed her tighter, memorizing how much she had grown since she was last in my arms—too long ago. I tried to savor everything about this moment. “Shh,” I soothed again and felt a morsel of relief when Sapphira’s sobs ebbed and her breathing calmed. “Saffy.” I guided her head from my chest and smoothed the hair back from her face. Her porcelain skin was mottled with redness, and her eyes were puffy and raw. “Sweetheart,” I said, looking into her searching eyes and feeling my own vision glimmer. I closed my eyes, chasing away my tears, and looked down upon her again. I forced a smile. “Martha told me.” Saffy edged closer to me, and I held her tighter. I did not think she would speak, too many seconds stretching in silence, until she said, “It . . . he hurt me.” Those words. Those simply spoken words, packed with such a heavy confession, were my undoing. I felt the fabric of my soul rip apart as I held her in my arms, helpless to do anything to help. “I know.” I pressed a kiss to her head. Saffy placed her hand on her lower stomach. “I . . . I did not like it as Brother John said I would.” I did not think I could take it. I did not think I could ever move from this spot. I could not let her go. I could not be sent away from her anymore. But I knew I had no choice. “I know,” I said again. The pathetic words tasted like acid on my tongue. “But . . . but it will get better. Next time will not be so bad.” Sapphira stared at me in panic. “I do not want there to be a next time. Please, sister, I cannot . . . I do not think I can . . .” Her bottom lip trembled. “Please . . .” Sister . . . The word cycled through my head. “I want to come and live with you.” She got to her knees, her little, beautiful face before mine. She had matured since I had been here last. Her face was losing her childish features and morphing into a young woman’s. I ran my finger over her cheeks, smiling through my tears when I saw the spray of freckles dotted on her nose. A few lay on her cheeks, one larger one to the side of her eye. It was beautiful . . . she was beautiful. So perfect in my eyes. “Please,” she begged again. “You are my sister. We are blood, Phebe. Let me come and live with you. I will be good.” This time I could not hold back my tears, and they fell, hot and salty, down my cheeks. “I know, my sweetheart,” I said with as much strength as I could muster. “But it is not the way. Brother John and Prophet David would never allow it.” I brought my forehead closer to hers and closed my eyes. “If I could I would take you to my home and keep you safe.” I smiled, picturing that heaven in my head. “I
would care for you, and read to you at night until you fell asleep in my arms.” “What would you read?” She laid her head on my shoulder. “Whatever you wished,” I said, stroking the hair from her face. I kissed her head again and felt her body grow heavy with tiredness. “I would like that,” she said sleepily. “I . . . I miss you, Phebe. I want you with me always. But when I ask, they tell me to be patient.” She shook her head. “I am not so good with patience, I think.” She sighed, nudging her cheek into a more comfortable position. I squeezed her as tightly as I could without hurting her. “I . . .” I clenched my eyes together, ridding them of water. “I miss you too, sweetheart.” I could not take the pain in my heart. Such devastating pain. I needed more drink. I needed to forget. The drink, the potion, made me forget. I opened my eyes and wiped away the water clouding my vision, preparing to search for more alcohol. When my focus improved, I took in the sight before me. A thick covering of trees surrounded wherever I was. My eyebrows pulled down in confusion, and I swallowed the dryness from my throat. Nerves built inside me as I tried to remember why I was here. This was not Lilah’s home. It was not New Zion . . . Meister. Ice trickled down my spine and my heart kicked into an erratic beat. Had he found me somehow? A faint clattering noise came from somewhere behind me. I froze, my muscles strained. I steadied my breathing as I worked up the courage to turn. I was not sure I could move, but I had to. If it was Meister, he would not leave me alone for long. I turned and looked cautiously through the windows of the truck, using its body as a shield. A few yards away was a small wooden house, with what looked like a fire pit, and a couple of chairs beside it. The front door was open Another clattering noise drifted from inside. Fear ran thick in my veins as I tried to see through the windows. I could see someone moving inside, but could not see beyond blurred shapes and the reflection of the rising sun off the glass pane. I tried frantically to think of last night, of the days leading up to this moment. But my memories were scattered and difficult to pin down. The pounding in my head made it almost impossible to think straight. I glanced around me, looking for a path, a way out, when suddenly, I heard someone approaching the front door from inside. I crouched against the side of the truck, my heart racing. I peered over the hood, and in the gloom of the hallway I glimpsed a pair of booted feet, then denim-clad legs. A hand, holding three full trash bags . . . . . . and then he stepped out into the light. AK. I sagged against the truck. He brought the bags to the truck and threw them into the back. There were many bags there already. He wiped his head with his forearm. I could not take my eyes from him, from his large frame, his many tattoos, his dark hair in disarray. AK pulled a cigarette from his back pocket and brought it to his mouth. The smell of smoke drifted on the breeze. He moved to the driver’s side door, opened it and reached inside. He pulled out the leather that had cradled my head as I slept. It was his vest, the one that showed he was with the Hangmen. He put it on over his tank and looked around. I didn’t have time to pretend I was not hiding before his gaze met mine. I pushed away from the truck and brushed my fingers through my hair. I looked down and saw for the first time what I was dressed in. Soft black pants, which were too big but held up by the string around my waist, and a black tank with the devil on the front. On my feet were sandals. AK’s boots crunched on the gravel as he walked around the hood of the truck and stopped before me. I kept my head down.
My face set on fire when I realized I was standing next to the vomit on the ground. “How you feeling?” AK’s deep voice cut through my embarrassment. I lifted my head and saw the concern in his eyes. I opened my mouth to give him the rote falsehood that was my usual answer to such questions. But something within me would not let me speak such things. The way AK watched me, the way his dark eyes penetrated mine, I knew he would sense the deception. So I answered honestly, “Terrible.” I felt my stomach sink at how weak I had become. “No doubt,” he said. “Come in. I’ve finished cleaning it now. Wasn’t gonna bring you in until I’d got it livable again.” I watched AK’s back as he walked away. He stopped near the front door and turned. “The sun’s almost up, and with the motherfucker of a hangover that’s gonna be coming your way, I wouldn’t wanna be standing out in the sun too long.” I looked up to the sky, to the cloudless morning and the bright sun beginning to spread its rays. The bright light felt like daggers in my eyes. I walked toward the small cabin. It looked different to AK’s home —smaller and less refined. Yet it still held a kind of charm. Arms folded across my waist, I walked across the threshold of the house. The walls were wooden, as were the floors. The floor was gleaming and smelled fresh, of lemons. To the right, there was a kitchen area with a small table. The white cabinets looked old and chipped, but they too were freshly cleaned. Faded sofas sat to the left, with a table in front of them. There were three other doors that led to somewhere else. I edged in further, noticing more. The walls were bare but for several heads of animals that were mounted on plaques. I stepped closer to one of the walls. Several faded spots marred the old wood. Square and rectangle shapes, where there had clearly once been pictures or paintings of some sort. But they were gone now. I caught a flicker of movement from my right. AK was walking out of one of the doors. He saw me at the wall, and his face clouded with something I could not decipher. He turned and walked to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of orange juice. He poured it into a glass. “Sit at the table,” he said. Still not knowing where we were or why we were here—why I was here with him—I did as I was told. As I sat down, I placed my hand over my stomach, fighting back the need to purge. I wondered if AK kept any alcohol in his kitchen, hidden in a cabinet somewhere. A glass of orange juice was placed before me. AK moved to another cupboard and took out a small bottle. “Take these with the juice,” AK said, sitting down in the other seat beside me and placing two blue pills on the tabletop. “What are these?” I took hold of the juice with shaking hands. “Gonna help with the head,” he replied. “Take them.” I forced the pills down my throat with the juice, then put the glass down when I could stomach no more. The silence was thick between us. The few times I found the courage to look up at AK, he was watching me. And his expression looked angry. His skin was marked with scratches, red and thick, on his cheeks, neck and chest. I had no memory of it, but I had a sinking suspicion it had been me who caused him such injury. “Your marks?” I asked, filled with dread. “Was . . . was that me?” AK raised his eyebrow. “You don’t remember?” Embarrassed at the confirmation, I shook my head. I was silent for a minute, then I asked, “Where are we? Why are we here?” AK pushed his fingers though his hair. I could not tear my gaze from his strong eyes and his handsome face. “I’ll tell you later. Right now, you need to sleep. You still got the liquor in your blood. And it’s gonna be a real fucking bitch when it’s all gone and it brings the fucking pain.” My pulse raced at the thought of not having the drink. I liked the drink. It numbed me from the thoughts
that were always swimming in my head. I liked how it made me feel. “I need it.” My eyes roved around the kitchen, searching. “Ain’t none here, and ain’t none coming. Dry as a fucking desert.” His voice was harsh, his tone daring me to contest. But I was tired, and my headache was growing worse. AK rose from his seat. “Come with me.” Knowing I had no other choice, I followed him through one of the doors into a bedroom. There were two small, narrow beds; between them was small table holding a lamp. “Take whichever you want. I got fresh sheets and all that shit on there. Stopped at a store on the way while you slept in the truck. Got food too. We won’t need anything more until we’re done here.” I understood what his words meant. He was to keep me here, where there was no drink and none of Meister’s potion. Just him and me and the thoughts I never wanted to acknowledge. I did not think I could do it. Feeling drained, pulled by the lure of the bed, I walked to the one farthest away and nervously sat on the edge. AK hovered in the doorway. “I’ll bring you food. But sleep for now.” He leaned against the doorframe, his muscles bulging in his arms. He was so tall he took up the entire space. “It ain’t gonna be pretty over the next couple of days. You’ve been on a seven-day bender and for that, you gotta pay the price.” My jaw clenched with a sudden flash of anger. He had no right to keep me from drinking if that was what I so wished. He must have seen my anger in my face as his expression darkened. “There ain’t none here, bitch. And I wouldn’t try and fucking cross me. No one’s gonna take your shit, especially me. Took on much worse fuckers than you. We’re miles from anywhere, and there won’t be no one coming here but me and you.” He spread his arms. “Welcome to hell.” With that, AK turned around and shut the door. I glared at the space he had been occupying, wanting to follow him and protest. But my mind reminded me of things he had already done for me, and I did not move. He was a hard and dangerous man, yet strangely, I felt no fear around him. Called by the comfort of the mattress, I rolled back the exceptionally neat covers and climbed inside. The frame creaked under me, and I closed my eyes. I must have been tired as I did not remember falling asleep. And for once, I did not dream. I did not think of her.
*****
When I woke, it was to purge into the bucket beside the bed. The room was darker than before, so I knew that night had fallen. I emptied my stomach of the food and liquids AK had been waking me to eat during the day, my body unable to keep them down. I groaned as I managed to thrust myself back to lie on the bed. I stayed still, holding my breath, until the room fell back into focus. I felt drained and sick and every part of me ached. I was thirsty, and when I looked at the table beside me there was a full glass of water and two pills waiting for me. AK had been giving them to me throughout the day. They helped some, but not enough. Nothing would be enough. I concentrated on moving my limbs as I brought myself to a sitting position. I took the pills, drained the glass and realized I needed the bathroom. It took me a full minute to convince myself to move. There was no sign of AK as I exited the bedroom and went down the hall. I used the bathroom, then looked in the mirror above the sink. Dark circles ringed under my eyes. My cheeks were sallow and gray. I looked a mess. I had to turn away when a sudden grip of emotion took hold of my heart. Who was this woman? I had no idea anymore.
I walked slowly into the kitchen, my body protesting with each step. I filled another glass of water, and when I turned, caught the orange glow from a fire outside. I did not want to sleep any more, and I craved fresh air about as much as I craved another drink, so I went outside. AK was sitting on a chair next to the fire pit. The flames were high and the moon was bright, casting a glow around AK, who was staring, lost in thought, at the crackling burning wood. I didn’t know whether to approach him or leave him alone. I stood for a moment, debating what I should do. Eventually, I stepped closer, strangely unwilling to turn away. There was a second chair beside him. Still clutching my glass of water, I sat down, exhaling in relief as my pained body found some semblance of comfort. Without meeting his eyes, I said, “Thank you for the pills and water.” AK did not speak. I looked at him to make sure he had heard me and found him watching me. His head was lying back against the chair, and one of his hands was across his chest. He nodded silently. I studied the small wooden home in this light, and found myself feeling more at peace than I had in a long time. Out here was quiet, and as hard as it was for me to admit, it was free of Lilah. It was free from her scar and worse, seeing her with Grace. Seeing her stroke Grace’s hair and kiss her head. Reading to her as she fell asleep, safe. It freed me somewhat of the pain I could only calm with bottle of alcohol. “I like it out here,” I said, searching for a distraction from my thoughts. “Is this home yours?” AK tensed beside me. “Yeah,” he said gruffly. I faced him, confused by the tone of sadness in his voice. AK turned his head away from me, looking out at the trees on the opposite side of the clearing. “AK,” I eventually dared ask. “Why . . . why am I here?” As I had noticed he did whenever he was nervous or unsure of broaching a topic, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a long, deep drag. He blew out the smoke into the warm night. “You weren’t yourself. You needed to get the fuck away from the club so you could stop with all the drinking shit.” I bit my lip in embarrassment, racking my now more-alert brain to remember something from this past week. I had flashes, intermittent memories. But as I gazed upon AK’s scratched skin, I felt my face drain. Images of me and him in his kitchen came to my head. I was against the wall, and he . . . he . . . “We fucked,” I said. It was not a question. I knew it to be true. I brought one hand to AK’s face. He kept still, but his dark eyes remained on me as I traced the marks, the prints exactly fitting the size of my hand. “And I hurt you.” “You weren’t yourself,” he repeated tightly. I thought he would knock my hand away, dispel my touch, but he did not. I stared into his eyes, and he stared back into mine. “Why?” I asked, baffled. “Why would you bring me here? I . . . I am no concern of yours.” I lowered my eyes in an attempt to block my building tears. The lack of alcohol was bringing forth the emotions I had long kept locked away, deep within me. “I am not of consequence to anyone but Lilah, I suppose.” My stomach dropped. “And though I do not remember, I am presuming she did not agree . . . with how I have been lately.” “I got my reasons, Red,” AK said, using that name he had called me when he saved me from Meister. I faced him again, and something swirled in my stomach at the way he regarded me. His dark eyes were soft and kind. “Question is,” he said, turning his body further toward me, “why did you turn to the drink on the first place?” My heart beat so quickly I could hear its rhythm in my ears. I took a long drink of water, feeling the flames heat my cheeks. I knew, of course. I knew why I had turned to drink. The pain I had lived with since I was twelve years old. The pain that time had not lessened but had only cut deeper with each passing day. But I could not tell AK what haunted me most. I could not bear the judgment I would receive for what I allowed to happen.
I was a failure, and now I paid the price. The drink took that away. So I bared another regret. “I watched. I watched them trial her. I watched Judah declare her a heretic of our faith. I watched as she cried and received lashes, as the crowd booed her and called her a whore. Then I . . . then her eyes met with mine.” I sobbed, choking, seeing that day as if I were still living it. “Her eyes met mine, and within them I did not see fear, but resignation.” I only realized that tears were falling down my cheeks when I looked at AK and his image was blurred. I blinked them away and shook my head. AK watched me. Watched me with those same kind dark eyes. “The day you took me to her . . . ” I closed my eyes and replayed how her scarred face lit with light when her blue eyes fell upon me. “I did not know she had harmed herself, AK. I had no idea that she could not bear children due to her ordeal.” I gripped tightly to the glass in my hands, noting idly that the water was swishing from side to side. I was trembling. AK clearly noticed. “You don’t gotta tell me no more.” “No,” I protested. “I . . . I have to.” Now that I had spoken, I could not stop. I needed to say this out loud. “I remember them taking her away when she was a child, AK. I remember crying that my sister, my best friend, had gone. But I believed that what they said of her was true. That her beauty was given by the devil and that she was a blight on our faith. And I believed that the prophet would save her. AK, I remember rejoicing that she would be exorcised. I . . . I was happy. “But that day, when she was tried and I saw her again, more beautiful than I could have imagined, I saw in her eyes that the Rebekah I knew was gone. That something had robbed her of life, the light I knew she had once possessed.” I cleared my throat. “Then I followed her to Perdition Hill and saw what the men of my faith had done to her.” Pain stabbed at my heart. “I saw this, AK. My baby sister. My best friend as a child. When I saw her at her home, revealing she was scarred and unable to conceive, I could not bear it. I . . .” I took a deep breath. “I found the bottle on Ky’s porch, and it made me forget.” Deeper, darker thoughts threatened to break through, but I pushed them away. I could not cope with them all right now. “I did not want to be aware of anything. The drink took it all away.” “You were a victim of that fucking cult too, you know?” My head snapped to him in surprise. Something passed over his face, and in a move that shocked me even more than his understanding, he raised his hand and brushed the tears from my cheeks. His palm opened, and I rested my head against it. “I was not a victim,” I said when my tight throat would allow. “I was complicit I watched my sister get hurt and did nothing. I am no better than those who hurt her.” I was talking of Lilah, but I saw something else in my head. I was complicit in something much, much worse. Something unforgiveable. “You’re wrong, Red,” he said, and though his words found a corner in my heart to burrow in, I could never believe that they were true. AK held me as I cried. I did not understand why he did, but I took comfort in his kindness. No man had bestowed on me such grace before. I opened my raw, swollen eyes. AK was still watching me, like a guardian angel. A devil with angel eyes. “I’ll tell you one thing, Red. Liquor is a good servant but a fucking cruel master. You keep going the way you were, and you’ll be more than fucked.” He slid his hand from my face, and I instantly missed its warmth. Sitting back in his chair, he gestured to the house. “You’re here to make sure liquor becomes your bitch again. Not the other way around.” Despite the weakness in my body and the emotions dripping from my heart, I found myself smiling at his strange use of words. Perhaps he found it amusing too—I was convinced that under his handsome dark demeanor, I saw the tug of a smile. A yawn tore from my mouth, and tiredness crashed into me at full force. “You need sleep,” AK said. I
completely agreed. “Sleep as much as you can over the next couple of days. If you sleep you won’t feel as bad.” “You have dealt with this before?” I asked, and by the subtle flinch of his head, I knew it was true. His expression said it all. I left AK by the fire. As I entered the house, I glanced through the kitchen window at the mysterious man that had somehow become my compass in this outside world. His body slumped in his chair, and his head was in his hands. For a minute, I thought I saw his shoulders shaking as though he were breaking apart into tears. But I was sure it was just the trick of the light. AK was a strong man with, I believed, a beautiful heart. I was sure nothing could make him crumble. I wished I had a morsel of his strength. In minutes, I was in my bed and drifting to sleep. My burdens felt slightly lighter somehow. And there was only one man to thank for that: the devil’s man with angel eyes.
Chapter Fourteen
Phebe
I woke to the now-familiar sounds of birds chirping and the breeze rustling through the leaves. I braced myself for the sickness, for the exhaustion I had felt every day since we had arrived, but I smiled in relief when I felt only muted tones of those pains today. I had been sleeping on and off for two days. I slept, ate, showered, then slept again. I had purged more than I ever thought possible, and slowly, I began to feel better. I breathed more easily, walked more easily, talked more easily. Everything just felt . . . easier. The weight in my chest a little easier to bear. I showered and dressed in my favorite one of the dresses AK had packed for me; it was olive green. I ran a comb though my hair, then made my way outside, where I knew AK would be. Since our arrival, he had spent most of his time outside. It was as though he could not stand to be inside this home. Sometimes, when I had awoken to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, I had seen him outside, awake in a chair by the fire pit. Not sleeping again. He was sitting at a table at the side of the house. A large rusty trunk sat beside him, and several pieces of black metal and plastic were strewn about the tabletop. His hair was pulled back off his face and tied back in a bun. I could not recall ever seeing his face so clearly before. His concentration was fully on the task as he cleaned the pieces in front of him with excruciatingly meticulous detail. I walked to where he sat and saw him flicker his brown eyes to me. “You look better,” he said and carried on cleaning the small, fat piece of metal in his hands. “I feel better.” I looked down at the worn trunk at his side. It was full to the brim with shapes I thought I recognized. A thick layer of dust lay over each one. “Are those guns?” I asked in confusion, wondering why he owned so many. AK stopped cleaning, but he didn’t meet my eyes. “Yeah.” “They look old,” I said, wanting him to speak, needing some form of conversation. He had been so quiet and subdued since we arrived here. I did not know him that well, but I sensed that he was not usually this quiet. AK shrugged. “’Bout fifteen to twenty years old. Some are newer, ’bout seven years.” His expression was tight, as were his muscles. Each one was corded and strained. He was dressed in a black tank and dark jeans. As he recommenced cleaning, I allowed my eyes to scan over his skin. His tattoos were many, boasting many different images. A large depiction of a gun, not too dissimilar to the one he was cleaning, stood out most. “You like guns?” AK’s lip hooked up at the corner. “Could say that.” “Why is that amusing?” AK laid down the final piece of metal he was cleaning, and then, at a breathtaking speed, proceeded to join all the pieces together. His gaze was intent on his task, his lips pursed. Even when a strand of hair fell from his bun he was not distracted. In what felt like seconds, the random metal fragments that had once littered the tabletop had morphed into a gun. AK pulled something on the top of the device, and it clicked into place. He placed it down on the table and sat back, sighing deeply. “That was . . . impressive.” I could not help but smile. I had never seen anything like it before. Seeming suddenly shy, AK lowered his eyes, but I saw the flicker of a smile on his lips. He leaned back in his chair. “You know what this gun is called?”
I shook my head. “I know nothing of guns at all. The prophet’s disciples would carry them in the commune, but the females did not touch them. They are only for men.” “One”—he held up a finger—“they ain’t just for men. And two, this here gun is called an AK-47.” AK-47. Realization dawned. “AK,” I said, feeling as though I had just solved a huge mystery. “You were named after a . . . a gun?” I was confused. Who would do that to a child? “I have a name, Phebe. AK just became my nickname at the Hangmen. ’Cause I’m good with guns. Styx’s old man saw me shoot, and my road name was born.” “That is why you have so many guns, because you are good with them?” He nodded, but stiffly, as if that was not the entire story. “So what is your real name?” I asked. AK shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Xavier. Xavier Charles Deyes.” “Xavier.” I smiled. I liked how it sounded on my tongue. “I like this name.” I repeated it in my head once again. “I prefer it to the gun name.” “But I ain’t that person no more, so I go by AK now. Suits who I am now. Xavier died a fucking long time ago.” “And who are you now?” I asked, confused by the dark turn this conversation had taken. “A Hangman. And not Xavier fucking Deyes.” AK leaned down, clearly ending the conversation, and took another dusty gun from the trunk. With the same speed as he had put the other together, he pulled it apart. I watched in silence as he made quick work of cleaning it and putting it back together. He placed it down, and I saw that he had a pile of glistening guns on a blanket to the other side of his feet. “You like to shoot?” My question stilled his movements. “Yeah.” He cocked his head to the side. “You?” I laughed. I could not help it. “No,” I sputtered. “I have not even held one in my hands before. I would not even know where to begin.” AK picked up a gun from the pile beside him and laid it before me. I stared at the large gun and screwed up my face. “I would have no idea how to operate such a thing.” AK took another gun in his hand. “Then I’ll show you.” He got to his feet, and any awkwardness he had harbored minutes ago seemed to have disappeared. He was confident with the gun in his hand, transformed. He picked up the gun he wanted me to use. “Come with me.” I rose from my seat and followed his retreating form. AK led the way through the trees, stopping at the edge of a small field. Five trees were in the distance, a brightly painted wooden plaque affixed to each trunk. “Targets,” AK said, as if reading my mind. “You aim, shoot and try to hit one.” “Impossible.” “Not at all, Red. You just need a good teacher.” I turned and smiled. “Are you that good teacher?” I asked teasingly. His eyes flared at the smile on my face and humor in my voice. “Too right I fucking am.” He came closer and took one of my hands. His palm and fingers felt rough in my own. He works hard, I thought. Worked with his hands. A sudden image of those hands on my breasts slammed into my mind. More memories followed—of his fingers cupping my behind as he thrust into me, of his fingers stroking along my core before slipping inside and making me scream. My cheeks heated at the memory, and when I looked up, AK had closed in until he was just an inch away. His put his finger under my chin and lifted my face. “What’s got you blushing like this, Red?” He stroked that finger over my cheek. “Like all your fucking freckles have joined up.” Avoiding the truth, I said, “I hate my freckles.” It was a pathetic attempt at distraction, so I was struck mute when he leaned in even closer, his hot breath over my face, and said, “I fucking love them.”
I swallowed, feeling my nipples harden and my breathing become erratic. “You do?” “Mm,” he murmured and stepped closer still. I had to stop a moan from escaping my mouth when I felt the bulge in his jeans harden. My breath hitched, and a slow grin tugged on AK’s lips. He brought the gun in between us and placed my hand on top. I felt dizzy with heat as he stepped back. Hands on my shoulders, he turned me to face the targets on the trees. His mouth came to my ear as he stood at my back. I shivered. “Concentrate,” he said, his voice low. I closed my eyes. “I . . . I am finding it difficult to do that with you this close.” AK’s deep, rough laughter split through the air. He did not respond, but instead lifted the gun higher in my hands. He moved one of my hands to the underside of the gun and the other to a switch. “Trigger,” he said, guiding my fingertip along the smooth metal. “Barrel.” He ran his fingers over my hand that was placed on the underside of the rifle. He made sure the bottom of the gun was tucked under my arm. “Hold it firmly, like this.” He ran his hand up to my hair, guiding my head with his palm. Another glimpse of a memory flashed before my eyes. Me between his thighs, kneeling at his manhood. I swallowed, suddenly able to taste him on my tongue. “You’re blushing again,” he teased, his lips scraping past my earlobe. “I . . . I am remembering,” I confessed breathlessly. I allowed my mind to show me what came next. I had climbed on his lap and ridden him, slowly, back and forth, his hands roaming over my behind and thighs. “Yeah?” AK growled. “You and me,” I said. “Outside your home.” I turned my head until my lips brushed against his. I breathed and he breathed, sharing the same air, warm, then hot. “You took me.” My chest was rising and falling in hard movements. AK chuckled into my mouth and licked along the seam of my lips with his tongue. I groaned at the feel, my breasts aching. “No, bitch.” Heat flooded my core as he said, “You fucking took me.” AK dragged his nose along my cheek, and then carefully turned me back to face the trees. His hand guided my head downward until my eyes were looking through a lens on the top of the gun. His torso was flush against my back. I felt him everywhere. Within me, behind me, my senses breaching their capacity. “Concentrate,” he ordered again. My back straightened as I tried to do as he asked. I blinked, seeing the tree targets up close through the lens. Taking my hand from the trigger, he brought it to a small black switch on the side of the gun. “Safety.” He pulled my hand back. The gun clicked, and he guided me back to the trigger. “Line up the cross in the lens with the bullseye—the center point—on the target. Wait until your hand is steady and take the shot.” I did as he said, then felt his hand tighten on my finger on the trigger. I let calmness run through me. “When you’re ready, pull the trigger.” I counted to three and pulled down on the trigger. The loud bang of the bullet flying from the barrel caused birds to scatter into the sky around us. But I barely noticed due to the sudden pain in my shoulder. I stumbled back, and AK wrapped his thick arms around me to stop me falling. I gasped as I tried to breathe. “Welcome to the kickback,” he said and laughed dryly. I blinked my sight back into focus, then looked straight ahead. I saw a bullet mark in the first tree, the one closest to where we stood. A laugh pealed from my throat when I saw that I had not hit the intended target—rather, I had taken a chunk out of the wood of the tree. The laugh poured from my throat, and water built in my eyes. I held the gun close to me as I tried to gain composure, but it was no use. I had not laughed like this in . . . I was not sure I ever had. “Phebe?” AK asked, but I could hear the lightness in his voice. He relaxed his hold on me, and I turned toward him. He kept his hands braced on my back, as though he was not yet ready to let me go. “The shot.” I snorted, which only made me laugh harder. “It did not even come close to the target.” I threw my head back as another wave of amusement hit me. My throat and chest ached from my laughter. When I finally managed to calm, I wiped my eyes and looked at AK. He was watching me with his lips
pursed. I fell silent. AK stayed unmoving. Just as I was about to ask him what was wrong, he stepped forward and pushed me back against the tree behind us. My back scraped against the rough bark. He took the gun from my hands and threw it to the ground. Then AK’s lips were crushing mine, his tongue pushing into my mouth. I moaned as I tasted him on my tongue, the flavor of him familiar and so very wanted. His hands ran down my sides and held me still. I felt his hardness against my stomach and heard his low groan, the vibration from his chest ricocheting through mine. My core became wet as he pressed himself against me. Then he broke away, breathless and muscles tense. “You need . . .” He caught his breath. “You need to fucking laugh more, Red. It looks real fucking good on you.” My hands were shaking as they held his hard biceps. AK stepped back, then back again, ripping the tie from his hair. His dark hair tumbled forward as he picked up the gun from the ground. “Again,” he ordered and handed me back the gun. I wanted to protest. I wanted to leave the gun and bring him back to me, have his tongue and taste in my mouth. But then it occurred to me. He had stopped. No man had ever done that before in my life. “Shoot,” AK said, his voice still thick with need. I lifted the gun and took up the position he had shown me before. He tapped my ankles with the tip of his boot. “Wider. It’ll stop you from falling so bad this time.” I did as he said, lining up the gun to the target, feeling him beside me once more. And as I shot the bullet out, I smiled at the subtle, intimate touches he used to guide me. I braced for the kickback this time, glad when I firmly held my ground. I looked at the tree. I had chipped the base of the target. “I hit it!” He gave me a smile, and the sight stole all the air from my lungs. He was so handsome that he caused my heart to ache. “You got closer than before, but you won’t be winning any prizes with that. We’re going again.” And that was how the day went. At least until I grew too tired and we had to head back to the cabin. AK cooked on the grill while I lounged in a reclining chair. When we had eaten, I was exhausted, the remnants of the drink still stealing my energy. I rested my head against the cushions of the chair, and slipped into sleep.
When I awoke, the sun was setting, the sky streaked with pink and orange. I blinked as I looked around me for AK. He sat in the same spot as he had most days, only this time there were two pairs of black boots in front of him. Both appeared well worn, and both were pitted with dirt. Knowing he had not seen me looking, I was about to ask him to whom those boots belonged when I suddenly caught the expression on his face. It was . . . sad. No, that was not a strong enough word to describe what his face was conveying. It was pain incarnate, a visage racked with such sorrow it made me ache. I watched from the dark sanctuary of the chair as he took one pair of the boots in his trembling hands. They were the most worn pair of the two. When he pulled them into his chest and closed his eyes, his shoulders shaking, I almost jumped from my seat and ran to him. To comfort him. To make sure he was okay. But I did not think that would be welcomed. So I let him be. I stayed quiet as he held the boots to his chest for several minutes, before placing them, so painstakingly slowly, on his lap. He reached for a cloth beside him, and I saw the track marks of tears on his cheeks. Tears of my own blossomed in my eyes. He was such a formidable male, so big and strong, that the sight of him crying was more than I could bear. AK began cleaning the boots in silence. I kept my eyes hooded, eyelids leaden, so he would believe me asleep. He methodically cleaned both pairs of boots until they were gleaming. When they were done, he stared at them for so long that I worried I would have to show I was awake or sleep here all night. But then AK got to his feet. He glanced over at me, and I quickly shut my eyes. I heard him stepping
toward me. I felt him stop beside me and crouch down. I evened out my breathing, trying to keep up the pretense of sleep. Gently, he ran his hand over my hair. His warm breath blew across my skin. Then, shocking me completely, he brushed a gentle kiss on my cheek. Such a chaste, loving gesture. The sweetness of the act set off a swirl of emotions inside me. Emotions I was not familiar with. Emotions I did not understand. AK moved away. I cracked my eyes open a fraction and watched as he took both sets of boots in his hands. Slowly, he walked to the front door of the cabin. He bent down and placed one pair of boots on one side of the mat on the floor. Then, more carefully, almost reverently, he placed the second pair down on the opposite side of the mat. He stood and stared down at the boots. They looked so perfectly situated at the door, as though both the occupants lived happily inside the house. AK pushed through the door and shut himself inside. I waited several minutes before I moved. I looked to where he had been sitting and saw all the guns were now clean, as was the trunk. I approached the door. Crouching down, I stared at the two pairs of boots. I let my fingers graze over the polished leather. They were so clean I could almost see my reflection in the light of the fading sun. The boots were identical in every way, except one pair was bigger than the other. They were not both AK’s, I guessed. My eyebrows drew together as I wondered to whom the other pair could have belonged. I heard the sound of a door closing inside the cabin and went inside. AK’s bedroom door was closed. I sat down at the table in case he reappeared. I wanted to be sure he was okay. But he did not. So I went to bed, unable to get the sight of him hugging the boots out of my mind. I knew that level of pain he displayed. And I knew how it could rob you of joy.
*****
Two days later, I walked out of my bedroom to see AK wearing jeans, boots and no shirt, waiting for me at the table. “Morning,” I said cautiously, testing if he was still as subdued as he had been yesterday. “Morning, Red,” he replied, and I felt a weight slip from my shoulders as he called me that name. He pushed a plate of food and a coffee in my direction. “Eat and drink up.” I sat before him and did as he said. When I had finished, he came to my side and held out his hand. Despite my confusion, I let him pull me to my feet. He pulled me to his bedroom and led me to a closet. He paused before reaching out to open it, his grip on my hand tightening. When I peered inside, I saw a small rack of clothing. Female clothing. “Should be about your size,” AK said gruffly. He bent down and picked up a pair of brown boots. “Try these on. I got somewhere I wanna show you today, and you can’t be wearing those sandals.” His shoulders stiffened. “I’m fucking sick of never leaving the grounds of this cabin.” I took the boots from his hands and slipped my feet inside. “They fit,” I said, smiling. He reached back into the closet and pulled out a pair of shorts and a tank. Surprisingly, the tank did not show the devil on the front, but instead the American flag and an eagle. The text beneath read “Semper Fi”. I did not know what that meant; the language was strange. “Put these on too.” I took the items from him and went back to my bedroom. The clothes fit fairly well. I was clearly taller than the woman they belonged to, but they were decent. I walked out to the kitchen. AK was waiting, a couple of bottles of water in his hands. “I think they are fine.” “Good” He got to his feet. He still had not put on a shirt, but he had tied back his hair. I decided I liked this look on him very much. I could see his eyes so much better. I pointed to my clothes. “Do . . . do these belong to an ex-lover of yours?” I was surprised by the intense streak of jealousy that surged though me. My body was tense as I waited for a reply. I knew I
should not care . . . but I did. But AK turned his back and exited the cabin. “Nothing like that,” he said quietly, under his breath, but I heard it. He turned back to me, lit by the early sun, and nudged his head in the direction of the trees. “Come on. You’ll like this.” Excited by his promise, I followed him outside and took his hand. AK stilled and looked down at our fingers, seeming surprised by the gesture. I was surprised I had done it too, but I had felt a sudden need to hold on to him. I could see there was a heavy kind of sadness that lived within him, a sadness I felt compelled to take away. AK took a deep breath and turned us toward the trees. I looked back over my shoulder. The boots were still sitting by the door. His sadness was linked to those boots somehow, it had to be. I just did not know why. It seemed I was not the only one with hidden secrets.
“AK,” I whispered, overcome by the sight before me. “It is beautiful.” We stood on top of a high rock, looking down upon a waterfall that cascaded into a small, bright-blue pool. No one was here in this sanctuary but us. Birds were singing, and the sun’s rays glistened off the turquoise surface of the water. “AK,” I said breathlessly. “I have never seen a waterfall in real life before. I have seen them in books, read about them. But this . . .” I shook my head in disbelief. “I can barely believe the incredible beauty before me.” “Yeah,” he said. “It’s pretty fucking good.” AK sat down on the edge of the rock and took a drink from his water bottle. We had hiked all the way here. The excursion was exhausting to my still-aching muscles. AK, however, barely seemed to break into a sweat. His fitness was astounding. Tearing myself away from the sight, I sat down beside him. I lifted my hair, trying to get some air to my overheated neck, but it was clinging to my sweating skin. AK smirked at me fighting a losing battle to get the bright-red strands off my face. Silently, he slid the tie from his hair and handed it to me. His dark hair fell forward over his cheeks, but I caught his smile. I brought my long hair into a bun that resembled the one he often wore. “I have never seen anything so magical in my life.” I watched in a trance as the waterfall bubbled into the crystal pool. “What is all of this, AK? The lodge, the hiking, the shooting, the waterfall?” I shook my head. “It is like being in another world. One I believed only existed in my dreams.” “It fucking is another world,” he said and laughed a single rough laugh. “At least it’s miles away from the ones that we come from.” He finished his bottle of water and I took a sip from mine. “It’s a hunting lodge. I grew up coming here. Used to practice shooting, hike every day and just get away from the world for a while.” I smiled, trying to imagine AK here as a youngster. “It sounds as if you had a very different childhood than my own,” I said with a nervous laugh. AK looked directly at me and I saw the humor fade from his face. “But a not-so-dissimilar adulthood.” He looked away. I was about to push him, to ask him what he meant by that, when I noticed a tattoo on his arm. I glanced down at the tank that I wore and realized it was the same image. Reaching out, I stroked my fingers over the American flag on his arm. “This emblem,” I said and pointed at the shirt. “They are the same.” AK’s muscles tensed. “What does it mean?” “Shit to me anymore,” he said harshly. He got to his feet and began to descend down the side of the rock. The muddy path was steep. He glanced over his shoulder. “Come on. It ain’t so bad. I’ll help you.” I didn’t hesitate to take his hand and follow. As we made our way down the path, I realized that I trusted him. I trusted a male.
I had never doubted he would keep me safe. Not even for a single second. We arrived at the edge of the pool. AK bent down and refilled his water bottle. He held out his hand for my bottle too. I passed it to him and took a closer look at the waterfall beside us. The crashing fall of the water was loud from this proximity, and it was just as beautiful as it had been from the top of the rock. “Here.” AK held out my bottle for me to take. Too busy watching the waterfall, I had not realized that the cap of the bottle was not in place. So when AK pulled his hand back and threw the contents of the bottle in my face, I screamed aloud in shock. I jumped as the cold water sprayed my face and body. I stood, motionless, until I looked at AK. And he was laughing. Not just smiling, but laughing heartily, the deep sound causing a lightness to flood my chest. “AK!” I shrieked and lost my footing. My feet slid into the water and I fell back until I hit the mud, my bottom hitting the earth with a thud. When I lifted my hands they were covered in mud. AK laughed even harder behind me. My entire bottom half was drenched from the water. And I was covered in wet mud. AK approached me as I rinsed my hands. “I was fucking with you, Phebe. I didn’t expect you to fucking fall in.” I scowled at him as he came closer, still laughing and not apologetic in the slightest. I waited until he held out his hand for me to take, as I knew he would. I scooped up as much water as possible in my hands and threw it in his face. “Bitch!” AK shouted as he stepped back, the water dripping from his long hair. But there was no malice in his tone. His dark eyes that had been so dull and sad since the night he had cleaned the boots were full of light. Then he was coming at me. I scrambled forward until I was submerged into the water, hoping to escape any retaliation. My chest and arms sank into the cool liquid. But arms wrapped around me from behind and lifted me into the air. “No!” I called out, laughing as he threw me into the air. I landed in the water with a splash and scrambled to stand, brushing the water from my face. “I cannot swim!” I said and thankfully found my footing. I cast my eyes around the water. I could not see AK anywhere. And then he burst from the water right in front of me, and my heart almost swelled out of my chest. AK’s arms wrapped around my waist. I slapped his bare arm as he smiled. “That’ll teach you to try and fuck with me, Red.” I shook my head in protest. “Me?” I laughed at the playful look on his face. “You threw the water at me first!” He shook his head and dropped his laughter. “You looked . . . hot. Thought you needed cooling down.” I laughed at his smug face, and then slowly, second by second, the smile fell from my lips. My hands on his arms began smoothing over his wet skin. I felt my cheeks flush as AK’s gaze lost its playfulness. He waded us out farther into the pool, so far that my feet no longer felt the bottom. Gasping, panic taking hold of me, I gripped him tighter, and had no choice but to wrap my legs around his waist. “I cannot stand,” I explained. “We are too far out for my height.” “That was kinda the point, Red.” He lowered his hands until they were around my behind. I felt him harden against me and felt my own core build with sudden heat. “AK,” I whispered when he slowly moved his hips against me. One of his hands dipped into the waistband of my shorts. His fingers were slow as they traveled south, gentle as they cupped between my legs and began stroking back and forth along my folds. I gasped and closed my eyes as he ran his fingertip over my clit. I heard AK’s breathing deepen, felt his hardness against me, and wanted nothing more than to touch him too. Lowering one of my hands from around his neck, I slipped it down his muscled torso, sliding over the deep valleys and ridges until I met the button on his jeans. I unfastened it and unzipped his fly. I pulled out his length and felt AK immediately thrust into my hands. “Fuck, Red,” he hissed as his hands moved harder and faster at my core. I stroked him up and down as he kept me solidly in his arms, never letting me fall. I fought the urge to close my eyes. I wanted to watch AK. I wanted to see him, without the potion or the
drink. I wanted to watch this man who had brought me to this lodge to help me simply because he wanted to. I had been wanted by many men before, but not for any other reason than sex. I could not be entirely sure, but when AK’s dark gaze watched me, when he offered me his hand, and kissed my cheek when he thought I was sleeping, I did not think it was for only his pleasure. I was not sure, but . . . but I hoped, and I prayed, that he actually liked me. For me. Not my body. But just . . . me. I did not understand how that could possibly be true, but I desperately wanted it to be. AK leaned his head forward and took my lips with his own. He kept his hand at my core, slipping back and forth, and then inside me in a slow, rhythmic motion. His tongue sought entrance to my mouth, and our mouths fell into the same rhythm as our hands. When AK kissed me, the whole world fell away. All the pain and demons that clouded my brain fell into a blissful void, locked away as the taste of him consumed me, chasing the dark. I moaned into his mouth, AK catching my cries and swallowing them whole. I felt the telltale tingles build at the base of my spine. I clutched him tighter, meeting his gaze again as he worked his fingers into me faster, one, two, then three fingers, until he hit the spot inside me that I knew well, that I’d been trained to stimulate, the one that when AK pressed against it, broke me apart into shattered shards of glass, my body nothing more than light. The long cry from my throat sailed on the wind, echoing around the waterfall. AK’s breathing stuttered. Then he stilled, and never taking his eyes off mine, he came into my hand, his hips jerking as his release washed away with the water. His black pupils almost eradicated the brown of his irises, and his cheeks were flushed with pink. Our eyes remained on each other, locked in some silent yet poignant bliss. AK kissed me again, not using his tongue this time, just his lips, his soft, sensual lips. They caressed mine as though I was special to his heart. As though I was worthy of such of affection. My eyes welled up. His hand moved from my core and stroked up and down my back, soothing my thoughts. His lips worshipped me. I never thought I would ever understand the meaning of a kiss. How it could momentarily stop your heart from beating, or how such an innocent touch could make you feel so incredibly cherished. I took my hand from AK’s length and quickly fastened up his jeans. AK pulled me back closer. “I fucking like you, Red,” he said hoarsely. My eyes closed at those words, and I shook my head. “Why? How could you like someone like me?” AK pressed a single kiss to each of my closed eyes. When I opened them, he said, “Because you understand.” His words were barely above a whisper. Before I could ask him to explain what he had meant, a slow smirk edged on his lips. He kissed my cheek. “You’ve caught the sun,” he said. “We’d better go before you burn.” I looked at him and saw nothing but bronzed, perfect skin. He had several scars scattered around his body, some large, some small, but I did not pay them any mind. We all bore scars, whether on the outside or in. AK gave me one more swift kiss on my lips and started to move away, but I placed my hands on his face. His skin was warm under my palms, whether that be from the sun or his release. “Red?” His brows pulled down. “Thank you,” I said, when I could find the words. I gave him a watery smile. “Thank you for bringing me here. For taking me from Meister . . . for it all.” For treating me as if I am more than a whore, I wanted to add, but refrained. AK’s shoulders sagged, and he exhaled as if he had been holding onto that breath for a very long time. “I have no idea why you have done all that you have done for me, but . . . thank you.” AK did not speak, but he held my stare for several seconds. “We’d better go. The sun won’t be your friend if we stay here much longer.” Keeping me in his hold, AK took us back to the edge of the pool. He helped me stand on the uneven
ground and climb out of the water. I was thankful for the cool water on my skin when the heavy sun immediately beat down on my face. AK picked up the bottles of water from the ground, then held out his hand. I sighed and slid my hand into his. The walk back to the lodge was quiet, yet more comfortable than I had felt in . . . years. His affection had somehow become a salve to the constant fire of regret that burned, never-ending, in my heart. And this temporary reprieve, this short moment to be able to breathe, had everything to do with the man that led me home. The one my heart was suddenly leaning toward.
*****
I took a nap and showered, for once not thinking about anything else but AK. I looked in the mirror; my skin was kissed by the sun, more freckles than I ever thought possible peppering my face. A smile came onto my lips when I remembered AK telling me he liked my freckles. My face, a sky full of stars. My red hair. Red. Night had fallen, and AK was outside cooking on the grill. I dressed in a loose black dress I had taken from the closet in AK’s room. The material hung off my shoulders, baring my skin, for which I was thankful. I was slightly burned on my face and arms from today’s sun. AK turned his head when he heard me come outside, He was already sitting down. There were various items of food on the table and meat on the grill behind him. He lay back on the reclining chair, staring at the stars in the black sky. Smiling, I walked past AK to take the seat beside him, but he took my hand and pulled me down onto his lap. I gave a small cry of shock when I landed on his thighs. “You’ll be sitting on here with me from now on.” He pulled me down until my head lay on his bare chest and my body pressed against his. His hand was immediately in my hair, stroking through the long strands as if it calmed him somehow. His skin was warm; it too had been burned slightly by the sun. But it smelled heavenly and felt even better under my cheek. I sighed in contentment. AK got up to get us some food. We ate side by side, not saying much, just content to be by the other’s side. When we had finished, AK lit a cigarette. I curled back into his chest. I was sure if I never left this spot again that would be just fine. I watched the white smoke soar up above us and drift into the blackness of the sky, shapes swirling and dancing in the night air. “It’s so beautiful out here,” I murmured. I tried to count every star, but it was impossible, there were so many. “I do not think I have ever truly looked at the night sky before. I am sure I have never really looked at the stars before you compared my freckles to them at your home. Yet now I find myself wondering what they look like up close, if they are as beautiful as they appear from here.” I shook my head, amazed at the fact that I was here, doing something as idle as looking at the stars. I ran my hand across AK’s torso. “And here I am. With you, in this unfathomably blissful place.” “Red,” AK said gruffly and pulled me closer to his side. “It is true.” I thought of my days back in the commune. No man would have ever lain with me like this, not without sex having been performed. He would never have stroked my hair. Played and joked with me in a waterfall’s pool. Affection held no place in The Order. Love was shared through the act of sex. And as a Sacred Sister, it was never gentle or pure. Yet here was AK, holding me for no other reason than he wanted to. I was wanted. “When I am here, with you . . .” I said softly, feeling my heart beating too fast at what I was about to confess. “When I am with you, it is easy to not think about my life before. I . . .” My cheeks burned with embarrassment and a sudden wash of pain. “I have never been with a man who saw me as anything but
someone in which they could find their release.” My stomach sank at that sad truth. “It was all I was ever meant for, AK. To give pleasure to men for our Lord’s cause.” I lifted my head from the crook of his arm and rested it on his chest. He was looking up at the sky. His cigarette was burning in his hand, and his jaw was clenched. He must have felt me looking upon him because his eyes rolled to meet mine. “It is true.” Shifting my leg over his, I lifted my dress. AK’s forehead creased with confusion. I pulled my dress higher and higher, until my inner thigh was exposed. “Matthew 4:19,” I said. “‘And he saith unto them, follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.’” I turned my thigh and ran my finger over the tattoo that the prophet had commanded all of his Sacred Sisters to wear. AK was frozen as he stared down at the tattooed scripture leading to my core. The place Prophet David said men desired most. “What the fuck does that mean?” he asked angrily. Pulling down my dress, I placed my hand on his shoulder and guided him to lie back down. He did so, reluctantly, and I placed my head back on his shoulder and my arm around his torso. “Prophet David declared that certain women in The Order were meant for a special service. Revealed to him by God, as a way to bring in more members. He claimed that this scripture, particularly the words ‘fishers of men’, had a bigger meaning than we knew. He claimed that God had revealed to him that women from the commune, handpicked by him and his disciples, would become such fishers of men. Men were the goal, the prize for the prophet, and we—the Sacred Sisters—were the bait.” AK had become incredibly tense beneath me, but now I had started, now that I had begun to unload this burden from my soul, I could not stop. I wanted to speak these words, words I had never spoken before. “They came for me when I was ten years old.” I closed my eyes, remembering that day in great detail. Brother John taking me away to be trained. “I had been touched before by men. Children at the prophet’s communes were freely touched by anyone who wished to do so. There was no age that was deemed too early. In fact, Prophet David encouraged our parents or guardians to touch us first, to show us what God’s love felt like so we would not be alarmed when other men and women came for us sexually too. “When Brother John came for me when I was ten, to tell me I had been selected to be a Sacred Sister, I had tasted grown men on my tongue, and they had tasted me. I had been touched in every way but full sex.” I winced, still remembering the week that followed. “Though it was less than one week later when I was introduced to that act.” My thighs clenched together as I recalled Brother John laying me down on the bed, his naked body climbing above me. I flinched as I remembered his breath on my face and his hands skirting up my bare thigh. And I remembered his length as it pushed through my innocence. The tears, the blood, the pain and the shame . . . “Phebe.” AK turned his body to face me. I had not realized the tears were on my cheeks until he wiped them away. His hand cupped my face, and his thumb stroked along the damp skin. “For days afterwards, I tried to stay hidden in the corners of rooms. But every day Brother John came for me and took my body again. He took me until I managed to block out the pain. Until his touch and attentions became the norm for me.” I swallowed and looked up at AK’s face. It was filled with thunder. His teeth were gritted together. I reached up and threaded my fingers through the hand that was on my face. I lowered it to my chest and kept it near my heart. “Then the training started. Older Sacred Sisters would come to our rooms every day. There were about twenty of us when I trained. All similar in age and all receiving our first sexual encounter from Brother John. More lessons followed. Lesson after lesson on how to hold a man’s length, how to stroke it until he begged for more. How to take a man in our mouth and entice them with the subtle movements of our body, how to make them fall into our arms and give themselves over to the Lord through our bodies. We fished the men and they always took the bait.”
“They trained you to fuck?” “Yes,” I said and hated that it was the harsh truth. “In the commune at first. Prophet David often invited men who were important to our cause to his many communes, both domestic and abroad. I never knew what they were there for—business, we were told—but from the age of ten I was called to seduce them. Many liked young girls, even more so when we could service them in bed with the skill of a woman twice our age. And I did it all happily . . . eventually. I came to believe in what I was doing so much that I rejoiced when I was chosen by a visiting male from the lineup. Even more when I reached the age of fourteen and was sent outside into the world. Only the best Sacred Sisters were sent outside of the gates. Those who excelled at pleasing men.” I could tell by AK’s expression that he could not speak. So I continued. “I had never been outside of the commune before. There were so many sights and sounds that made me scared. But the brothers who would drive us out into the towns would keep us safe. They would keep us focused.” I sniffed as I recalled walking into the hundreds of bars I visited as a child, then later as an adult. “The men always took the bait. When they saw us coming in they would practically salivate on the spot. We would dress seductively, take them back to the bus that took us into the town. We would give them pleasure like nothing they had ever felt, and then we would convince them to return to the commune with us. And they mostly always came. Especially when they saw what awaited them there. More free love. More women . . . little girls.” “The pedophilic cunts,” AK snarled. “I’m glad I put a bullet through that fucking dick’s head. And took out dozens of the other cult fuckers too.” I stilled and blinked at AK, allowing his words to sink in. “You . . .?” Surely I was mistaken. “You killed Prophet David? You were the devil’s man that took his life?” “Yeah.” He pulled me closer to him. “I fucking watched that pedo prick fall as my bullet got him right between the fucking eyes.” My breathing sped up at his confession. In the commune, I had mourned the prophet’s death as though my heart had been ripped in two, but now, after everything that had happened, knowing that AK had been the one to slay him only made me want AK more. I lifted his hand and kissed along his fingers. “Thank you,” I whispered. He would never understand the level of my gratitude. Yet with that enlightenment came my greatest pain. My regrets illuminated. AK held me close as the tears fell from my eyes. He pressed kiss after kiss on my forehead. He made me feel safe. “There have been hundreds upon hundreds,” I confessed and felt the deep shame run through me like a sweeping tide. AK was as still as a statue underneath me. “I have serviced so many men I do not even know a number. Sometimes by choice and sometimes by force.” I sucked in a breath. “But if it was the latter, it was because I had failed as a Sacred Sister.” “What? What the fuck does that mean?” “If the seduction was not well performed, or my whisperings of God’s scriptures were not strong enough in conviction, sometimes the men would be unkind and take away our will. They would take the tithe of our flesh for our failure.” “Rape?” he growled. “You’d be blamed if they raped you?” “It happened sometimes,” I said, remembering the first time I had a knife held to my throat and was beaten as the man thrust himself inside me . . . in my every entrance. I remembered Meister and how he had been one of those males. “Meister did not like to be seduced; he liked to take. He took pleasure in extracting pain from my body. But the less I protested, and the more I allowed him to do with me what he wished, the more his possessiveness of me grew. I could see him becoming addicted to me, day by day, and I was frightened. But Judah ordered me to be beside Meister as long as he wished.” I closed my eyes. The rest of that story was blurred, due—I knew now—to the drugs. “He never gave me up.” My fingers
stroked over AK’s face. “Until you came to claim me from his command.” “You’re never going back to him either,” AK said firmly, and I felt my heart break at the promise. Fresh tears flooded my cheeks. I could not believe this man was fighting for me. “I do not . . . I do not know how to live in this world, AK.” I swallowed. “I do not know how to be anything but a . . . whore.” I laughed without mirth. “People on the outside world would talk of us. ‘God’s whores,’ they named us in the bars. Prophet David and Judah would call us ‘David’s Whores’. It is what Meister wanted me to stop being. I was to be his whore and his alone.” I squeezed my eyes shut and felt the salt from my tears sting my lips. “In this world, whores are not revered but punished. What man would ever want a woman like that as his life’s love? A woman who had taken men in every way possible? Who had sucked and stroked and fucked so many men that she could not recall a single face among the masses?” I shook my head, choking on my words. “Who would want a woman who lost her innocence as a ten-year-old and was frequently touched before that?” And then I felt it rise up within me. My most secret confession, my deepest pain. I tried to hold it back. I had tried to hold this, my biggest regret, inside for so long. But I could not. AK was safe. Here was a safe place for me to shed this guilt. I had to finally let it free. “What man would want a woman who was with child at the age of twelve?” As the words left my lips, I felt AK tense underneath me. His breathing stopped, and his hand stopped moving on my back. “Phebe . . .” he eventually said, softly. My eyes scrunched up as I hid my face in agony. I shook my head, trying to not let the floodgates of those times open in my mind, but I could not resist. So I let my story—my sins, my failure—spill forth . . . I looked in the mirror and ran my hand over my stomach. The bump was so large now that Brother John had taken me from Sacred Sister duty and ordered me to rest. My back ached, and since this since this morning, waves of blinding pain had clenched my stomach, making me scream. Martha had told me this was normal, that this was my baby coming. She had been assigned to stay with me. She had been with child, too, but delivered a few weeks ago. Since then, all she had done was cry. She had been punished for those tears, lashes taken from her flesh, yet she could not stop crying. Because they took her baby boy. They took him for the cause. And they would not let her see him. My back ached as another agonizing slice of pain ripped through me. I cried out, feeling a dull pressure building at the bottom of my spine. I stumbled on my feet. Martha ran through the door just in time to catch me. “Come, Phebe.” She led me to the bed. I clutched the bump, screwing my eyes shut as the pressure became unbearable and my entire body was overwhelmed with the need to push. “I think it is coming,” I said, just as my bedroom door opened and Sister Leah entered. “The baby is coming,” Martha told her. Sister Leah parted my legs, and I felt her hand inside me. “You have to push,” she ordered. Martha gripped my hand. “You can do this, Phebe,” she said, tears pouring down her face. I knew she was thinking of her boy. I knew she was in great pain. With every ounce of strength I could muster, I pushed, feeling as if my body must surely split in two. I breathed as deeply as I could through the agony and exhaustion racking my body. And then, I did not know how long later, a loud cry sailed into my ears. Martha leaned down to view the baby in Sister Leah’s arms. “It is a girl, Phebe,” she said and squeezed my hand tighter. “A . . . girl?” I said breathlessly and felt something switch inside me. I felt something unknown take root, something I had never felt before . . . a blissful kind of peace. Such peace and love that it robbed me of my breath. Sister Leah placed the baby on my chest. I blinked, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment,
then I eventually looked down. Two dark-brown eyes stared up at me. To the side of her left eye lay a large, dark freckle. I stared at that freckle, mesmerized at such beauty. She came from me. She . . . she was mine . . . Tears flooded my face as I held her in my shaking arms. “Sapphira.” I heard Martha sniff from beside me. “I will name her Sapphira.” “It is beautiful, sister.” Martha laid a kiss on my head. Martha was fourteen, two years my senior, but I knew that at that moment she understood me more than anyone ever had. “Sapphira,” Sister Leah said and leaned over me. Panic filled my lungs when I saw her arms stretched out to take my baby from me. “No!” I said loudly. Sapphira jumped in my arms and began to scream. “Give her to me, child. You know she is a David Baby. You know she does not stay with you. You have a greater purpose to serve.” A David Baby. Babies born to Sacred Sisters. Babies that are “owned” by Prophet David and not their mothers. Raised not by their parents, but communally by carers. A sob ripped from my throat. I tried to turn away, to move off the bed. Sapphira was mine. She was my baby! “No, please . . .” I glanced down at her brown eyes. “She is mine. Please, do not take her from me. I will care for her. I will manage both duties.” “Phebe!” Sister Leah snapped. “Do as I command, or Brother John will be brought in. You have known since you discovered you were with child that she would not belong to you.” “No!” I shuffled off the bed. I held Sapphira close to my chest as I struggled to hide myself in the corner of the room. Sister Leah left, and I saw Martha staring at us, crying as she sat on the edge of the bed, lost. They had done this to Martha too. Took her baby boy away when she had wanted to keep him. I looked down at Sapphira and shook my head. My face was drenched with tears as I held her to my chest. “You are mine.” I smiled through my tears when Sapphira stopped crying and looked up at me. I kissed her head, feeling the warm skin beneath me. “I love you,” I said, my voice catching in my throat. “I love you, Sapphira.” The door flew open and Brother John, followed by Sister Leah, stepped through. I wanted to run, to flee with my daughter, but I was trapped. There was nowhere to go. Brother John glared at me in disapproval. “Phebe, hand the baby over to Sister Leah. Stop this foolishness.” “She is mine,” I said under my breath, defiant. He must have heard me, because he shook his head. “She is a David Baby. She belongs to the faith. You are a Sacred Sister. And you have a different path than being a mother. A much worthier cause.” He came closer, and closer still until he had his hands on Sapphira. “No!” I cried again as he took her from my hold. “Please . . . I love her!” My chest racked with sobs and my body shook as Brother John gave my baby to Sister Leah and she took her from the room. I screamed. I screamed and I screamed until my throat was raw. I did not remember what happened next, everything was a blur, but when I lifted my head, Brother John was gone from the room too. Only Martha and I remained. My eyes were swollen from crying, and my body hurt all over from giving birth. But nothing was greater than the void I felt in my arms. The empty space where Sapphira should have been. The pain came in crashing waves, over and over again. “Sapphira,” I whispered. “Sapphira . . .” Her name felt like a cruel prayer on my lips. A hand lay on my back, stroking up and down. “Martha.” I fell into her lap. “What am I to do now?”
I felt Martha’s tears hit my cheek—a shared pain. She stroked my hair. “Brother John told me that we can earn the right, through fishing, to see them on occasion. We are forbidden from saying who we are to them, but we may claim that we are their sisters. They will at least give us that.” Her voice sounded as desperate as I felt. I blinked quickly, trying to rid the water from my eyes. “They will?” I asked, a glimmer of hope sprouting in my shattered heart. “Yes,” Martha said. “And that is what I intend to do.” She sniffed. “If we recruit more men than our quota, our reward is time with them. And I must see him, Phebe. I cannot . . . I cannot . . .” “Breathe,” I finished for her, when she could not express what was in her bruised heart. “Yes,” she said after several silent moments. Clutching my hand to my chest, I pictured Sapphira in my head. My heart never healed after that day, shattered and irreparable. But I believed in our prophet. In the end, I believed he would do what was best for his people—including me. I just had to obey and have faith . . . AK’s chest was drenched as I fought to breathe through the memory of that day. His hand was tight in my hair, and I held onto him as though I would fall apart if not for his compass. “Fuck, Phebe,” he said. “I got no words for that fucked-up shit.” He pulled me even closer to his body. “Did you ever see her again?” I nodded, recalling those precious days. “It took me two years to see her again. They said I needed time to set her free from my heart. It never worked, of course. I knew that my bond to her would never fade. The day I met her again, she was playing outside with some other children.” I smiled though my tears. “She had the brightest, blondest hair, similar to Lilah’s, but Sapphira’s eyes were so dark, like midnight— I did not know who her father was, he could have been any one of the several men I had served, but he must have had those eyes. And to the side of her left eye lay the large freckle, the memory of which had gotten me through the two years before.” I looked up to see AK watching me. “I sat beside her on the grass. I was so nervous.” I laughed. “Nervous at meeting my own flesh and blood. I was shaking so hard that it took me forever to ask if I could play with her. She was nervous at first too. It transpired that she was a very shy girl. Beautiful, but extremely shy. It took a further two visits for her to speak to me. For her to smile.” My bottom lip quivered. “And her smile lit up my life, AK. There was no sun before that day.” I screwed my eyes shut for a second, and AK pulled me further up his chest. “What?” he asked, searching my face, tone low. “She was six when I told her I was her sister. Her blood. Her sister, AK . . .” I shook my head. “My soul died that day. Died when I could not tell her that she was mine, that I was her mother and she was loved more than I had known possible. She was the fabric of my soul. The very air I breathed.” “And you earned those visits?” AK said tightly. His hold on me grew firmer. “I fucked men, AK. I fucked my way through so many men to get to those visits. I fucked so well that I won rewards from the prophet for my recruitment record, medals. And they rewarded me with a muchcoveted position—head Sacred Sister. I taught others; I led our missions. I was called upon to entice and impress the most important of Prophet David’s, and then Judah’s, visitors.” My chest tightened and a sob sailed from my throat. “But they made her a Sacred Sister too, AK. My baby, my little girl, they made her a Sacred Sister. They turned my daughter into a whore.” My chest ached. “I knew it was likely. The female David’s Babies were often put into the same circle as their mothers. The prophet deemed them worthy of being one because it was already in their blood. But it still hurt more than anything when I discovered she was in training.” “Fuck.” AK pressed a kiss to my head. I reared back, refusing his kind touch. His eyebrows pulled down. “No,” I said. “You do not understand.” He opened his mouth to speak, but I placed my finger over his
lip to silence his words. “I believed in it all, AK. I believed that my sacrifice, no matter how hard it was to endure, was necessary because the prophet deemed it so. Even when Sapphira was made a Sacred Sister, I believed it was God’s way. Despite the pain it caused, the hardship to us both, I would never doubt the prophet. I truly believed he knew what was best.” I choked on those pathetic words. “I was stupid and naïve.” I sucked in a pained breath and let more tears fall. “I failed her in every way because of my blind faith. I failed Lilah, encouraging her to believe and rejoin the faith before she was punished. “It was not until we all came to New Zion after Prophet Cain’s ascension, and things began to change, that the veil that had shrouded my eyes drew back and the truth of our so-called mission was revealed to me. It was all false . . . everything we did had been due to the ego of one man . . . and all those people perished because of it. . .” AK placed his hands on my cheeks and lifted my head. “Sapphira . . . the suicide . . .?” “She was not there,” I said and watched him relax. I thought back to Judah. “The only good thing Judah did when I was his consort was send her away. I begged him to stop her mission as a Sacred Sister. I said that if he loved me as he claimed, he would do this one thing for me. He would save her.” I exhaled, feeling some glimmer of comfort. “He did as I requested and sent her away, sent her from a life of sexual servitude. She was thirteen at the time. She would be fourteen now. Judah informed me there was a smaller commune where the elderly or impaired were placed. Judah sent her there to work. It was abroad and far away from Texas.” My eyes fell. “I never even got to say goodbye to her, but I took comfort that she was away from New Zion, where I could see everything was falling around us.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “But my daughter is still out there in the world somewhere, without me.” I inhaled deeply. “Since you saved me from Meister, since you forced me to face my demons, I have been plagued with guilt and regret. I should have fought harder for her. I should have realized sooner that The Order was a veritable hell. But at least I am safe in the knowledge that she still lives. Others were not so fortunate. They watched their babies die alongside them. I heard no order from Judah demanding the elderly or infirm be killed, so I pray that she is safe.” I laid my hand on my heart. “I have to believe she is okay, that she breathes, or else I would cease to be. I would waste away.” When I had confessed the last of my sins, a heady kind of numbness took hold of me. AK was watching me carefully, and I almost wept when I saw no censure in his gaze, no judgment. His hand was shaking when it threaded through my hand. That small gesture of comfort allowed me to breathe. It allowed the tightness in my chest to relax and find some morsel of peace in this mess. “You weren’t to blame, Red,” he said, his voice low, deep, but best of all, sincere. “You were a fucking kid. You were a kid who had a kid, and those fuckers took her off you, giving you some bullshit trope, all that you could still be their whore. They brainwashed you. About every single thing in your life. And you have fuck all to be sorry for.” “I do not believe that,” I said tiredly. I was drained and depleted. I was numb. AK sat up and pulled me onto his lap. His hands cupped my face, and he made sure I looked directly into his eyes. “Then I’ll fucking believe it for you.” “Thank you,” I whispered, more thankful than he could ever know. I looked into his kind, handsome face, and I knew that I owed him an explanation. All was blurry, but I knew how I must have acted after he saved me, under the influence of the drink. I took a deep breath. “I am nothing if not a whore, AK. I do not know how to be anything else. “I do not know how to live with all my demons. My failure of Sapphira, Lilah, and all the lives of the men I seduced, wasted when Judah ordered them to drink his poison. I brought those men to the commune, to our faith, and they died under Judah’s command.” I clutched on to AK for dear life. “And I do not know
how to live in a world where I see my daughter in my arms whenever I close my eyes. Not knowing where she is in the world, if she ever thinks of me.” I breathed slowly. “Meister’s potion took all that away—the cares and the worries. The drink I found on Ky’s porch did the same thing to me, when you had taken the potion from my veins. It was a suitable substitute. It made me not remember, or think of Sapphira, for a time. I saw Lilah with Grace, and although it makes me elated they have one another, it killed me to see what a mother looks like. A true, good mother. That is why I did not want to be brought back to real life.” I shook my head. “Real life is too hard. And I do not know how to cope with it. Not at all.” I clung to AK as if he were the only tether keeping me from breaking apart. And I whimpered, losing the final restraint on my sorrow when his large arms came around me and held me as close as possible. He kissed my hair and rocked me back and forth, keeping me safe in his hands. “You ain’t to blame,” he said again, his kindness rushing over me like a balm. “They made you do it. Those fuckers took you as a fucking kid and raped you. Forced you into service and stole your kid. You can’t blame yourself. You were fucking trafficked.” AK said no more as I purged years’ worth of sorrow from my heart. He just held me close as my tears dried to a drought and my body sagged in exhaustion. My eyes fought to close, and I lost the battle to keep them open. I recalled being lifted in AK’s arms and placed down a warm bed. But when I next woke I was alone, and my entire body shook. My skin was sweating from my nightmares. I saw my daughter’s face, felt her in my arms. I saw Lilah on the stake, her bloodied body, too vividly in my head. It was all too much. I threw back the comforter and left my room. The cabin was quiet and still, but I needed him. I needed him so badly. I tiptoed into AK’s bedroom. There were two small, narrow beds in this room too. AK’s tall form was under the covers of one. As if he were a beacon to my bruised heart, I followed my feet until I arrived at his bedside. The wooden floor creaked beneath my feet. His body jolted upright, and he blinked into the light from the moon. “Phebe?” I did not speak. I simply lifted the cover under which he lay and climbed inside. I let his smoky scent soothe my nerves as I lay down on the pillow beside him. I stared into his eyes and shuffled close to his warm body, the two of us barely fitting on the tiny mattress. I laid my head against AK’s shoulder and closed my eyes. His arms came around me, and I heard his breathing in my ear. In the comfort of his safe embrace, I let sleep pull me under. And for the first time in my life, I lay in bed with a man and just slept. My body protected in his arms . . . . . . and perhaps my soul too.
Chapter Fifteen
AK
“You nearly got it that time,” I teased. Phebe huffed out a frustrated breath. The tree closest to us was chipped again. Fuck, the bitch was getting better, but shooting wasn’t easy. I would know. She was doing better today. She had slept for almost a day after all the fucked-up shit she had told me. Bitch had had a kid. And worse, those asshole motherfuckers had taken her away and now she was fuck knows where. No wonder the bitch turned to drink. My mind drifted to Zane, my kid nephew, and I fought back the fucking shame that filled me too. Phebe had lost a kid, and I had lost . . . everything . . . Phebe leaned into me and hid her face in my chest, ripping me from my thoughts. She looked up and said, “I cannot even hit the central target at this tree.” She pointed at the farthest tree away. “Who could even hit that?” She shook her head. I glanced at the tree she was referring to and shrugged. “Me.” Her mouth dropped open. “You can hit that?” She eyed me skeptically. “I realize you must be a good shooter, but I am sure not even you can hit that.” I smirked at her disbelief. Bitch had no fucking idea. Taking the gun from her hand, I stepped forward and took my position. I could feel her eyes on me. But I blocked her out. The world fell away around me as I held completely still. I focused my eye on the target. I canceled out everything but the bullseye. My focus became sharp, unquestionable. I shifted my finger on the trigger, then with practiced ease, sent the bullet flying through the air and straight into the center of the target. I lowered the gun, feeling the same adrenaline rush through me that I always did. I turned and faced Phebe. She was watching me, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. She looked fucking gorgeous. Bitch was stunning, all freckles and blue eyes. “AK.” She stepped forward, eyes now on the target. “How . . .? What?” She fought to finish her words. “How did you do that?” She looked down at the gun in my hands, then shook her head suspiciously. “There is something you are not telling me.” My stomach tightened, and I turned my head away. “Nah, just learned to shoot here as a kid, that’s all. I got good. Got better with the Hangmen.” I gathered the guns together and headed for the lodge. Phebe followed me as I put the guns away in the trunk, then entered the house. Her hand slid into mine, urging me to stop. Her blue eyes searched my face. “Why can you shoot?” she asked, more firmly this time. I didn’t say shit in response. She pointed to a cupboard on the other side of the room. “Why is that cupboard locked?” I knew what she was talking about, but I hadn’t even known the bitch had noticed it. “Why are we here in this lodge, AK?” I tried to swallow back the annoyance that was creeping up my throat. I’d seen the bitch through her drinking binge, listened to her tell me about her kid, yet here she was giving me shit? “Whose boots are by the door?” Her words slammed into my chest. I could feel my walls building back up, pushing the bitch out. She’d broken through, impossibly, but now she was pushing me too far. She might have wanted to bare all her shit out in the open, but that didn’t mean it was time for me to do the same. “I saw you.” She tightened her grip on my arm. “I saw you cleaning the boots. I saw you hold them to your chest.” Phebe stepped closer. I wanted to move the fuck away, but my legs wouldn’t budge. “I saw you shed tears over them.”
“Leave it,” I warned. My cheek twitched in anger. “AK, please . . . talk to me,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “I . . . I confided in you. Please, confide in me too. I can see the burden you bear.” Snapping, forced to fly off the fucking edge, I yanked her closer and spat, “Don’t try your fucking temptress shit with me, Red. You ain’t fucking ready for what I’d lay at your feet. You think your tale is bad, you ain’t seen nothing.” I brought her face as close to mine as possible. “So cut the shit and back the fuck off.” I let go of her arms and grabbed the truck’s keys off the counter. I smashed out of the door, hearing her call my name from behind me. I didn’t stop, couldn’t. I slammed in the truck into drive and pulled out of the cabin. I drove and drove until I reached a store. I bought a shit-ton of food I didn’t need, then got a bottle of Jameson off the top shelf. The cap was off and the liquid running down my throat before I’d even left the store. I sat in my truck, feeling the burn I needed to take off the edge. I laughed with fuck all humor. I’d taken Phebe from drink, but here I was like a fucking pussy, drowning the memories that had increased tenfold since Phebe had told me her story. That fucking lodge. Those motherfucking boots. The guns, the clothes in the closet . . . that motherfucking locked cupboard. My cell vibrated in my pocket; I had service now I was away from the lodge. Tanner. “Yeah?” “Finally. Wanted to let you know that Meister’s men know it was us. Confirmed by hacking into their email system. They ain’t done shit yet, but wanted to keep you in the loop. Styx and Ky have it under control, but wanted you aware for when you decide to come back. You need to watch the roads.” I blew out a breath, feeling the Jameson numbing the dark thoughts in my head. “’Kay,” I said. “Tanner?” “Mm?” “You good at tracking folk? Finding missing people and all that shit?” “Kinda. Why?” “Need you to find some young bitch from the cult. Would be fourteen now, called Sapphira. No last name. Same shit as Mae and Phebe.” Phebe thought her kid was safe in another country. But I knew fuckers like Judah, and that cunt never did anything right. I was doubting she was anywhere he said she was. I had to check. “She’ll be dead, won’t she?” he hedged. “If she was from the cult?” “She got sent away to some elderly home or some shit. Abroad maybe? Where Prophet Asswipe sent his oldies to die away from the commune. At least that’s what he said. Ain’t sure it’s true.” “Right,” Tanner said. “Leave it to me. I’ll do some digging.” “Thanks, brother.” I hung up my cell and tipped my head back against the headrest. I inhaled deep, then took another slug of my whiskey. I thought back to Phebe’s expression as I shouted in her face, her fucking lost eyes and tears as I stormed outta the door, pissed at her bringing all my shit to my door. “Fuck!” I turned the engine on. By the time I’d arrived at the cabin, I was completely buzzed and my head felt a fuck-ton lighter. And best of all, those fucking thoughts had faded to the background. White noise in my head rather than fucking thrash-metal drums. Taking hold of the bags of food we didn’t even need, I pounded through the door and completely froze in my tracks. Phebe sat on the floor next to the locked cupboard. Scratch that. The cupboard that was now open, its contents splayed around her. She didn’t even jump when she saw me standing there, glaring. She slowly held up the one picture I hadn’t laid my eyes on in years. The one that used to have pride of place in this lodge, a copy of the one that sat in Tina and Devin’s home, right above the fireplace.
“This is you as a young man.” Phebe turned the picture so I would have no choice but to look at it. Seeing each one of the smiling faces was a multiple blow to the gut. When Phebe pointed to the central person, suited in Marine blues, with shaven hair and a huge fucking smile, I couldn’t fucking breathe. “AK, this is you, is it not?” “I told you not to fucking go in that cupboard,” I said darkly. My hands holding the bags of food shook. Shook as red-hot anger ripped through me. The Jameson burned to fucking vapor in my veins, yet I couldn’t take my eyes from that motherfucking picture. “The boots,” Phebe said, ignoring the fact I was standing there seething, breaking. She ran her finger over my boots on the picture, then those of the person beside me. The one I could not look at the most. “The other pair of boots too.” When her breath hitched and her lips spread into a sad smile, her finger tracing across Zane’s face, his cute fucking smiling face, I lost it. I launched the bags in my hand across the room and heard them smash against the wall. The contents spilled and scattered over the floor. My hands curled into fists as I fought to contain the red-hot rage that coursed through my veins. Phebe, for once reading the danger in front of her accurately, jumped to her feet and backed her way to her bedroom door. Her sun-kissed skin paled as I glared at her. “I am sorry,” she said, struggling to find the knob. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she slipped through the door, like she knew the pain those fucking pictures caused within me. “I am so sorry, AK,” she said from behind the locked door. My feet were rooted to the ground as I saw the pile of frames and albums that had not seen the daylight in years. The Jameson was on the far side of the kitchen, unbroken and intact, the remaining contents ready for me to take. I took the bottle and threw the cap to the side. I downed the whiskey like it was water. Pacing the floor, I tried to think of something else, to stop the thoughts that came with seeing those faces again. The faces that had meant the most to me in my life. The people that were my everything . . . my home. Not realizing I had stumbled—the effects of the liquor—my boot crunched on something glass. I stilled and looked down. The picture that Phebe had been holding was cracked, the frame snapped under my foot. Panicking at seeing it ruined, I stepped back and automatically lifted it off the floor. My eyes fell to the picture and a pained sound ripped from my throat. My hand was shaking again, but now it wasn’t in anger. I backed up and backed up until my back hit the wall. My feet gave out as I stared at the picture, stared at us all smiling, happy, Zane in my arms. I blinked as my vision became cloudy, then tear after tear splashed onto the broken frame. Shouts of “Oorah!” echoed in my head. The sun, sand and blood. Letting the sobs from my throat tear free, I clutched the picture to my chest. When I pulled it back, my eyes fell to the boots. Those fucking boots. Standard, military issue boots. His boots. My boots. Side by side like we’d always planned. I closed my eyes, not wanting to go back there. But I couldn’t help it. I had pushed it aside for too long, and that shit wouldn’t stay back . . . The F-15Es came in, blowing up buildings and targeting the insurgents. Bones and I lay low, waiting for the signal to take out any of the enemy left over. Two. There were two, and I sent bullets straight into their heads without thought. Devin. I needed to get to Devin. Running from my position, I sprinted across to the building where I had last seen Devin. Bodies, both Marines and insurgents, were scattered on the ground. “Devin!” I called, turning body after body
over, searching from my brother. A hand landed on my shoulder, trying to get me to stop. Bones. I pushed him back and commenced my search. “He isn’t here,” I said when all of the territory had been combed twice. I whipped my head around, the dry air sticking to my skin. “He isn’t fucking here!” My heart raced as I kept searching. Where was he? Where was my fucking brother? “X,” Bones’s voice carried on the wind. I heard the worry in his tone. Each step to where he stood was a green mile. The smoke cleared, and I saw my spotter holding something in his hand. A picture. And I fucking knew that picture. I fucking took that picture. Zane. Zane in Devin’s arms. My hands wouldn’t fucking stop shaking as I took it from Bones and stared down. “Where the fuck is he?” I asked through my thick throat. Bones said shit all. A radio command came through, telling us to regroup. Bones led me back to the rest of the troop, and we listened as Sergeant Lewis spoke. Six men taken by the insurgents, including Lieutenant Deyes. The entire time Lewis—Devin’s best friend—was speaking, I stared at Zane’s face, at Devin laughing as Zane laughed too. And I felt it. I felt something in my heart that told me nothing would be the same from that day on. I could just feel it . . . My legs were numb as they lay out in front of me, my hands still clutching the picture. I rolled my throbbing head to the side and rooted through the pictures until I saw the jagged edge of the one I sought most. I pulled it from under an album. The edges were torn and singed. But Zane’s smiling face still greeted me. Devin’s laughing smile still stood proud. I lifted it to my nose and closed my eyes. It still smelled of that fucking desert. That enclosure when everything changed. I still heard the RPGs, the shouting of both enemies and Marines . . . the sound of my rifle firing shot after shot, Bones telling me they were direct hits. “Dev.” I felt my stomach twist. My head dropped and I cried. I fucking cried and cried, soaking my cheeks and chest. I cried, holding the two fucking pictures. I didn’t hear her come out of her room, but when I felt her arms come around me, I couldn’t fucking push her away. Scrambling into her embrace like a pussy, I let all the years of pent-up emotion pour from me like a river. And I just fucking held her. Phebe rocked me in her arms. “I am sorry,” she said in a cracked voice. “I am sorry I looked . . .” Her words just made me fucking break down even harder. But I held on to the pictures in my hands like they were my lifeline. My only link left to the family I adored, would have done anything for. I didn’t know how long we sat there, Phebe holding me, wiping my cheeks as I fucking broke apart. Her fingers pushed my damp hair from my face as I choked. She moved the Jameson aside without even looking at it. “Come.” She lifted my head from her lap. I felt heavy. Every part of me felt too fucking heavy. “Lie down with me.” She rose to her feet. I kept the pictures to my chest as I forced my legs to move. Phebe led me to the room I slept in. The one that held too many memories for me to ever sleep well. I kicked off my boots and sat on the edge of the bed. I couldn’t let go of the pictures. “Lie back and rest your head.” Phebe lay back first. She held out her arms, and needing someone to just fucking take the lead for once, I lay beside her, my head on her chest. “Shh,” Phebe soothed, running her hands over my hair. “Sleep.” Using her voice to calm myself down, I closed my eyes. I was tired, so fucking tired. “Sleep. I will be here when you wake. I will keep you safe.” I heard her words. But I was already being pulled under by darkness. When I smelled the putrid scent of blood and piss, I knew it was to visit a
dream I never wanted to see again . . . “Four weeks.” My knee bounced up and down in the back of the armored truck. “They’ve had him for four weeks.” “He’ll be good, X,” Bones said. “He’s strong. He’ll be one of the two.” I nodded, wanting to believe it but unsure I could. Intelligence had come back to the camp. Torture, the report had said. Four dead—two beheaded, one hanged and one shot through the head. Two survivors. Only two Marines left alive . . . but tortured. Badly hurt. And we were going in. I held on to my gun as the truck came to a secluded spot. We filed out and took our positions. Bones and I found the highest point we could—an old derelict tower. “You got eyes yet?” Sergeant Lewis asked through our earpieces. “Yes, sir.” Bones went quiet as I braced myself to shoot. “Three,” Bones said, and I caught the hint of excitement in his voice. He gave me the coordinates, and I sent my bullets flying. “Direct hit,” Bones said and directed me to another position. “Direct hit,” he repeated. Then all hell broke loose as the ground men moved in. Guns fired, screams and shouts echoed around the barren town. But I listened to Bones’s commands, firing and hitting, firing and hitting, keeping my focus like a good little sniper should. “Clear!” Sergeant Lewis said through the radio. Disregarding my orders to keep on my spot, I ran from the tower and into the building where the captives were being held. I ignored Bones’s voice behind me telling me to stop. I couldn’t. That could be my fucking brother in there. Fellow soldiers tried to stop me as I entered the building and followed the sound of the medics thrashing out orders. The ground was littered with dead bodies, and I heard the sounds of the surviving insurgents screaming and hollering in another room. My heart beat in tandem with my running feet until I came to a back room. I flinched at the smell that met me. Piss and shit and blood. Steeling my nerves, I stepped into the room and looked to my left. Two men were being worked on by the medics. Both nothing but skin and bones, covered in blood and beaten to a pulp. But I had to know. I had to know if my brother still lived. I pushed past the men in my path, and I froze when I saw a familiar pair of eyes staring back at me. Dark, just like mine. But that was all I recognized. His face was black and blue. Knife marks and gunshot wounds marred his naked skin. Some of his teeth were missing, and two of his fingers were gone. Cut clean off. “Dev.” I dropped down to the ground. Even as gone as he was, when his eyes met mine, a pained sound came from his chest. I dove forward and took hold of the hand that wasn’t injured. “I’m here, Dev. I’m fucking here.” I squeezed Dev’s hand and fucking broke when he tried to squeeze back. “I ain’t going anywhere.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the picture of him and Zane. “Bones found it, Dev,” I said and watched his eye that wasn’t swollen shut fill with tears. “I kept it for when we found you.” “Son,” a gruff voice said from beside me. “Sarge.” I looked up at Lewis. His face was fucking devastated too. “We need to airlift him out. It’s urgent.” “Okay.” I leaned forward to kiss Dev on his head. “I’ll catch you soon, Dev, yeah? Hold on.” Releasing his weak hand, I placed the picture there instead. Dev’s fingers held onto it as tight as they could. As the medics lifted him, I said, “Don’t let him lose that picture. Make him look at it if
things get bad.” My voice was barely there. The medic assured me he would. “Outside, son.” Lewis indicated for me to leave the room. I did as he said, walking like a damn ghost through the hallways. All I could think of was the state Dev was in. His missing fingers, his knocked-out teeth, the knife marks, the bullet wounds, and his fucking tear-filled eyes when he saw me . . . when he saw the picture of his son. Those fucking cunts. What the fuck had they done to him? Hacking him up, starving him, making him lie in his own shit. Motherfucking cunts! I came to a dead stop when I heard a noise to my left. The muted sounds of the insurgents came from behind a nearby door. I listened to their fucking muffled voices and felt my blood boil. They had hurt my brother. They had touched Dev. I looked at the closed door, and my feet moved without thought. My hand reached into my pocket and took hold of my knife. I didn’t even look back as I entered the room and shut the door behind me. Three men looked up at me. Three men who were tied up and sitting against the wall. From behind their gags, they started spewing some babbled shit at me, but I couldn’t understand a word. And even if I did, I wouldn’t give a fuck. I just saw their corpses in my head. I saw their blood pooling beneath them on the floor. I tightened my grip on the knife in my hand. My feet moved forward, and red misted over my eyes as I came to the first man. He started shuffling on the floor, trying to get away. But he was mine and going nowhere. I raised my knife and sliced it through his thigh, making sure to hit his femoral artery. I slashed the blade across his stomach and smiled as his innards spilled from the wound. I struck again and again. Blood spattered my face as I moved on to the next man, slashing his throat and hearing him gargle on his own blood. Then the third. I hacked away at their bodies, causing them more pain than was possible in the short time I knew I had, and all the time, I did it with a fucking smile on my face. “Xavier!” I faintly recognized Bones’s voice, but I didn’t stop. Nothing would stop me now. “Deyes!” a louder voice boomed, then someone grabbed me around my waist, yanking me off my kills. I fought whoever pulled me back until I was restrained on the ground, my knife ripped from my fingers. I looked to the side and smiled wider when I saw the corpses slumped against the wall. Corpses that barely resembled humans anymore. Fuckers that had paid for taking my brother. “Take him!” Lewis ordered, a note of panic in his voice, and I was carried outside. Blood from my kills covered my hands. I was thrown into a small shack. The door slammed shut behind me. As I sat in silence, I looked down at the blood on my hands and felt nothing but pride. But it wasn’t long before my steady hands began to shake. Wasn’t long before thoughts of Devin and the state he was in hit home. Wasn’t long before the tears came thick and fast, adrenaline fading and reality hitting me. The door opened and Lewis stepped inside. Sergeant Lewis—Devin’s closest friend and my superior. He began pacing, losing his shit. He kept looking down at me then shaking his head, repeating, “Shit!” I watched him, numbly. They could lock me up. I didn’t fucking care. Those fuckers were dead. That was all I gave a fuck about right now. “Here’s what’s gonna happen.” Lewis stilled. His face was red, and his eyes darted from side to side like he was debating something in his head. “All those fuckers were killed in the raid. No survivors.” I blinked, unfeeling and uncaring as he crouched before me. “What the fuck were you thinking, X?” “They hurt him,” I snarled. “They needed to die.” “Your brother is the best fucking Marine I know, and, more than that, he plays by the rules, has honor in the flag. He would never have pulled a stunt like that if your roles were reversed. You know what could happen to you if this is found out?”
“I don’t care. They fucked with him. They deserved to die. Don’t give a fuck about what happens to me now.” Lewis ran his hand down his face, exasperated. “Clean up. I gotta figure all this shit out. We all gotta get our stories straight. Forget this ever happened. Yeah?” I got to my feet, not saying shit. Lewis grabbed my arm and wrenched me back to face him. “Dev saved my ass more times than you’d know. That’s the only reason I’m going against every ethical and moral code here, X. I owe Dev, and after what’s happened, I’m sure as shit not gonna have you court-martialed.” I stormed through the door, only to see the building that had held my brother on fire, flames licking high and smoke tunneling into the air. “Fuckers lit it up when we arrived, but we managed to get our men out first,” Sergeant Lewis said from behind me. I knew that was the cover they were using to hide my crimes. But as I washed off the blood from my kills in a nearby stream, I couldn’t help but feel pride at the deaths. Those assholes had deserved to die. And if I’d had more time, I knew I would have done much worse . . . I gasped awake and shot upright. I looked at the end of my bed. There they were. Lined up to visit me again. The fucking insurgents, dripping in blood, their innards falling out and throats slit. They stared at me with black voids for eyes. “Go away,” I ordered and scrambled to the head of the bed. But they didn’t move. They just stared. They always just stared. And then I saw them come up behind, ripping my heart in two. These ones I cared about. “No,” I begged, arms outstretched. “Please. Please don’t come to me again . . .” My voice faded to nothing as they took their usual space beside the insurgents. They all stared at me with dead eyes, their skin gray and crepe-thin. “Please.” I felt the last of my resolve, my strength, break. My cheeks grew wet as I faced them all, the terrors that hadn’t left me in years. My guilt come back to life. “Leave me alone,” I screamed. “Please . . . just leave me alone,” I croaked, no energy left, and tried to breathe. The door to the bedroom flew open and Phebe came running in. “AK?” She looked about the room in panic. “Take them away.” I pointed at the end of the bed. “Make them go away. Please . . .” “Who?” she said softly. “Them.” I pointed at each of their fucked-up faces. “The blood is all over the floor.” “AK,” she whispered, then carefully climbed into bed. “Where were you?” I asked as her hand came to my face. “I was getting some water. I had only just left the room. But I am here now. Calm . . .” I looked into her blue eyes, and confessed, “I killed them.” Phebe tensed beside me. “Who?” “Them,” I said and pointed at the end of my bed. “They hurt my brother. They nearly killed him, so I killed them too. I killed them like they deserved. But now they won’t go away. They never leave. Neither do they . . .” I pointed my shaking hand at the two people that haunted me most. “AK, you are not making sense.” She moved closer to my side. She took my hand and squeezed it tightly. I looked down at her slim fingers in mine. “He had PTSD,” I said, my voice barely loud enough to hear. “They took him to a hospital in the months I was still serving out the rest of my tour. I couldn’t see him—he was brought back to Texas. I didn’t know how bad it was until I got back home. And I came back to find my brother was fucked up . . . beyond fucked up.” Phebe kissed my hand, and I looked up into her face. “I didn’t know what to do. He was there in body, but he wasn’t there in his head. He drank, but worse . . . he was on heroin. I came home to find my brother was a junkie, had been for fucking months and no one had told me shit. He was still living in Iraq in his
head. Still in that fucking room, losing his mind. Living the torture day by day. It never ended for him.” “I do not understand,” Phebe said. “My brother.” I felt the pain from simply saying that word. “I killed my brother, Phebe. The boots . . . his boots are by the door, his guns are in the trunk. This is his cabin, the one he brought me to as a kid. He’s dead, and it’s all my fault,” I cast a glance to him standing at the bottom of my bed, his wrists and throat dripping with blood, his body too thin and frame weak. His hand was held out for me to take, but no matter how many times I tried to take it, to keep him safe, my hand just fell through thin air. I couldn’t reach him. “It was all my fault,” I said again. “I fucked up. I lost everything because I fucked up.” Phebe’s hands tightened in mine. “Then tell me. Tell me what happened. You need to, AK. I am here. And I will not let you fall. I will not let them hurt you.” I stared into her eyes and, having no more strength left to fight, told her it all. For the first time in my life, I told someone. I told it all—joining the Marines, the kidnap, the torture. What I did. And then . . . She waved at me as I came through the airport. I shifted my bag higher on my shoulder and smiled when I saw the little man break away from Tina’s legs. Zane darted through the crowd and threw himself into my arms. “Zane!” I hugged him tightly to my chest. “I missed you, buddy!” Zane squeezed me back. “I missed you too,” Zane said. I drew back my head to look at him. “Shit! How big have you gotten?” He shrugged. “Pretty big.” The kid wasn’t kidding. I couldn’t believe how much he’d changed in nine months. “Hey stranger.” I turned to see Tina standing beside us. I smiled at my sister-in-law, but quickly lost my smile when I really looked at her. She was thin. Her face was drawn, and fuck, she looked tired. “Hey.” I looked around the airport for Devin. “Where is he?” Tina looked away. When she looked back, her eyes were filled with tears. My heart sank. “Daddy’s in the hospital,” Zane said, and I froze. “What?” I asked Tina. She took hold of my arm. “Come home. I’ll explain everything there.” I followed her through the airport. We stayed silent in the car, letting Zane tell me about the last nine months and what I’d missed. But all I could hear was “Daddy’s in the hospital.” When we got home, Tina sent Zane into his room. I sat down in the kitchen, and Tina made coffee. She leaned against the counter, and it wasn’t until I saw her back shaking that I knew she was crying. I jumped from my seat, still dressed in my fatigues, and spun her around. I towered above her, but her tiny body leaned into my chest. And she fucking broke her heart. She sobbed and sobbed until she was able to breathe enough to say, “He never came back, Xavier. The man who returned was not my husband. He was not your brother.” I clenched my eyes shut, remembering him on that floor in the back room of the insurgents’ building. “What happened?” “He came home, but he would sit at our door every night with a rifle in his hand. He said he knew they would be coming back for him. He said he was gonna kill them before they got to us.” “Fuck,” I said and heard my own voice crack. “It got too much. I had to take Zane to my sister’s. I had no choice. Dev was making our boy too scared to come home, so I sent him to Claire. I tried, X. I tried to help him, but it became too much.” “So they locked him up?” I asked through clenched teeth.
“Claire and Tom had him evaluated. He was put in a hospital. He’s been there ever since.” “Which hospital?” Tina told me. I jumped on my Harley, and I tore out onto the road from the house to the hospital. Hospital staff thanked me for my service as I ran through the hallways of the wards, still dressed in my fatigues. I wasn’t supposed to visit, but when I told the nurses I’d just got back from Iraq, they let me in. The smell of bleach hit me as I pushed through the door of the room. Everything was white and coldlooking. Devin was in the nearest bed. My heart fucking broke when I saw his lifeless eyes just staring up at the ceiling. “Dev?” Slowly, I approached the bed. His head rolled to the side. His hair was still cut short, but that was all that was normal. My brother was half the size he’d been when he was healthy. Scars marred his skin, but worse, the life was gone from his eyes. Like Tina had said, he was there in body, but not in mind. My hand shook as I reached out and took hold of his fingers. Devin didn’t even flinch. He just kept staring as if he wasn’t seeing me at all. I felt my lips shaking and my vision blurring with tears. “It’s me, Dev. X. I just got back off my tour today.” Dev breathed, he stared, but he said nothing. I stared up at the clear bag beside him, wondering what the fuck they were pumping into his veins. Then I saw the inside of his arms and the scars that were there. Mark after mark showing where he had injected himself with smack. “Dev, fuck.” I slumped down to the bed. I ran my finger over his hand. “I got them, Dev,” I said quietly. “I got them all. They’re dead. I made damn sure of it.” I looked up at my brother, my motherfucking hero, but his eyes were just as lifeless as they had been since I’d walked in. So I sat in silence until the nurse came in and told me my time was up. I kissed Dev on his head, then got to my feet. Just as I was about to leave the room, a sound came from the other person in the room. I looked over to see a kid, around my age, maybe younger. He was strapped to the bed by his hands and feet, just like Dev. I found myself walking closer to his bed, reading his name chart. Josiah Cade. His eyes were wide open, and so fucking black they didn’t look real. He had drugs keeping him sedated too, but still he fought against the straps as I stood by his side. “What the hell brought you here too?” I asked, and the guy stopped thrashing. When he stilled I saw he had slashes on his arms. A fuck-ton of slashes. But his eyes were on me. Like he was trying to say something to me with his black gaze. And I couldn’t take it. None of this shit. Turning on my heel, I left the hospital and drove to the nearest bar. A biker bar. One week later I was the newest prospect for the Hades Hangmen. And then things got even fucking worse . . . “You do not have to keep going.” Phebe pressed a kiss to my forehead. “It got worse,” I said and let Phebe hold me tighter. “I fucked up, and that’s when things went completely fucking wrong.” “AK—” “No! I . . . I want to tell you.” I looked up into Phebe’s blue eyes, and I knew it was time. I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore . . . “We got your lodge, yeah?” Vike asked as we snuck into the grounds and below the window. “Tina’s gone to the coast with her sister and Zane. She won’t be there all week. She’ll never know he’s gone.” Vike nodded, then held out his hands for me to step on. “Come on then, asshole. Let’s get your
brother out.” I hauled myself through the window of my brother’s room and heard Viking follow behind. “Shit, that’s him?” Vike said as I approached the bed that held Dev. Dev’s eyes were just as spaced as every fucking time I came to see him. Months and months in this hell and not one bit of progress had been made. I took the IV from Dev’s hand and threw back the covers from his body. I leaned down and scooped him in my arms. He weighed fuck all. “Come on.” I moved to the window. Just as I was about to leave, I heard a noise come from Josiah in the bed opposite. When I looked over, he was watching us, those black eyes lost. In all the months I’d been visiting Dev, I hadn’t seen one person come for him. To see him. The fucker was alone. “Vike,” I said on impulse. “Take Dev.” “What?” “Do it,” I ordered. Vike took Dev and climbed through the window as I crossed the room and freed Josiah from his restraints. I climbed out the window, leaving it open behind me so the kid could escape. We ran across the field and into the hidden truck. In the cover of darkness, we gunned it to the lodge and carried Dev inside. We put Dev in a room. He was out like a light, too pulled under by the drugs to communicate. I sat beside him, holding his hand. But the longer I watched Dev, all I could think of was that Josiah kid we’d left behind. “You think he got out okay?” I asked Vike who sat beside me. “Who?” “Josiah. The kid I untied.” Vike shrugged. “No idea.” He pointed at Dev. “So what the fuck so we do now?” “We gotta wean Dev off whatever he’s on.” We watched Dev all night, but he hardly made a move. Then as night turned into a new day, I called up a prospect and told him to come watch Dev while I made a last minute run. When the prospect arrived, I walked into the living room and found Vike sitting around the kitchen table. He raised his eyebrow at me and shook his head. “We’re gonna go find that fucking Josiah kid, ain’t we?” “Gotta check on him. If he’s like Dev, fuck knows what state he’ll be in alone. I can’t in good conscience just fucking leave him. Something in his black eyes told me the fucker was crying out for help, but had no way to fucking ask for it . . . his fucking scarred arms, the way he just stares at nothing. Don’t think he has anyone who gives a shit about him. And I, for one, can’t let that shit go.” It wasn’t long before we found him in an alley near the hospital, ripping up his arms with his blade. The young fucker eyeballed us as we approached, lips pulled back over his teeth as he growled. I held up my hands, watching his unfocused eyes try—but fail—to stay on me. “My name’s AK. I’m here to help. Get you the fuck out of this place and away from that nuthouse. They’ll find you if you don’t come with us and you won’t be getting out again.” It had taken a fucking long time to get him to move—the kid clearly couldn’t be touched if his freak out when I tried was anything to go by. The brother glared at us from the corner of the alley, body tensed. But when the remainder of the drugs in his system pulled him under, knocking him the fuck out, we took him and got him back to the lodge too. Vike carried Josiah into the spare room. I laid him down on the bed and Vike took the first watch of him. I went back to Dev, and I sat beside him, praying that when he came around, he’d be back to the brother I knew. We’d be X and Dev once again . . . “But he was not?” Phebe said. I shook my head. “It got worse. Josiah, Flame, came around. He was fucked in the head, but he could be talked to. And I
don’t know if it was gratitude or what, but he listened to me. Vike took him to the Hangmen compound, and he became a prospect too. But Dev . . .” I trailed off and looked to him at the end of the bed. My chest tightened. “He couldn’t stop living in his head. He would talk to me, eat. But I would find him outside in the middle of the night, waiting for the men who tortured him to come back.” “AK.” Phebe pressed her hand on my forehead. “You are burning up.” I took hold of her wrist and brought her hand to my mouth. I kissed the palm and used the beat of her pulse to try and calm my heart. “AK?” she said. “You are worrying me.” “I got called back to the Hangmen. The war had started with the Diablos, and the prez, Styx’s old man, needed me. He sent a prospect to watch my brother. I had no choice but to go. I was the Hangmen sniper. I was AK. I had to go.” “What happened?” I caught the tremor of dread in her voice. “He got free.” I closed my eyes. “He got out . . .” “You heard from Bird?” Vike asked, talking about the prospect who was watching my brother. “No.” I tightened my hand on the steering wheel. “He missed today’s check-in.” Flame shifted on the back seat, his knives in his hands. He was never away from me now. Me or Vike. Brother was completely fucked, but he was my brother now too. Fucked or not. I pulled into the lodge’s driveway only to see the truck was gone. Ice filled my veins and a strange feeling crept down my spine. “Where’s Bird’s truck?” I jumped out of the truck we were in. Vike and Flame were right behind me. I held up my hand, slowly approaching the open front door. I saw the blood before the body. “Fuck,” Vike spat. Bird’s hacked-up body lay lifeless on the floor. I ducked down and felt the blood —it was still warm. My heart kicked into a sprint. “He’s only been dead a couple of hours max.” I got to my feet. “Fuck!” I screamed, hands on my head. “Dev!” I flew to the truck and pulled out of the driveway fast as I could. I broke every speed limit along the way. I tried to get Tina on her cell. No fucking answer. “Dev, don’t have done something fucking stupid,” I said to thin air.” An hour later I pulled into the driveway to see a truck there . . . Bird’s truck. The blood rushed from my face when I saw the back door was open. There was no sound at all. There were no neighbors for miles. Right now, there was just me and whatever lay in this house. My stomach rolled when I saw Tina’s SUV in the driveway, Zane’s car seat in the back. “No,” I whispered. I pushed through the door. My feet were light as I crept through the small farmhouse, searching every corner. I stopped dead in the doorway to the kitchen. A trail of blood, fresh blood, snaked along the floor. My legs shook, but I forced them to keep going, to step into the room. A sound ripped from my throat when I saw Tina on the floor. Tina’s lifeless body, slashed at the neck and wrists, stab wounds though her heart. Bile climbed up my throat as her dead eyes stared up at me, her face frozen in an expression of shock. Tina . . . fucking Tina. My sister . . . my second mother. No . . . Panic took over . . . Zane. I shot through the house, searching everywhere I could think of. The final place to look was their bedroom. The door was shut. My heart pounded so hard it was all I could hear as I turned the knob and slowly opened the door. I saw blood again. Blood from beside the bed. I walked around, bracing myself for what I might find. The gargled sound of choking on blood hit my ears. I flew around the rest of the bed. Dev was slumped against the side of the bed. His blood poured from the gashes that sliced across his wrist and throat. I dove down and took him in my arms. “Dev! No!” The blood kept coming and I couldn’t fucking stop it. “Dev!” I called out, sobs racking my chest. “What have you done?” “Safe,” he managed to push from his throat. “Safe . . .” I clenched my eyes shut. “No!” I rocked him
in my arms. “Don’t leave me,” I begged as his eyes began to glaze over. “Dev! Don’t you fucking dare leave me!” But he began to still in my arms. His blood was everywhere, on my hands, on the floor. “Dev? Where’s Zane?” I asked as his body started fitting. I held him closer and counted the seconds until he grew still. Thirty-two seconds. Tears fell down from my cheeks and mixed with the blood on my hands. “Dev,” I whispered, rocking him back and forth. My chest was caved in, my heart ripped from it. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t fucking breathe! “Shit,” a voice said from the doorway. I turned my head, not letting my brother go. Vike and Flame stood there, staring at the blood. “Brother,” Vike said in a hushed voice, the fucker serious for once. “He killed her. He killed himself. He thought he was still there. That they were gonna come for him again . . .” I squeezed more water from my eyes. “I think he thought he was saving her, saving himself. He wouldn’t . . . he’s not a murderer . . .” I glanced down at his dark eyes. “He’s my fucking brother . . . . . . He’s my fucking hero . . .” “No,” Phebe whispered as she rocked me in her arms. “AK, no . . .” she said again and I knew she was crying too. She wiped my tears, kissed my skin as she held me close to her chest. “Zane?” she asked. “Where was Zane?” “His Aunt Claire’s. She had taken him for the afternoon.” I blinked and looked into Phebe’s blue gaze. “If he had been there . . . he would have killed him too, Phebe. He would have. His own kid.” “And where is he now?” She looked at the picture of his young face still in my hand. “I don’t know.” “Why?” “Claire banned me from seeing him. She moved away. He . . . he didn’t even go to his own daddy’s funeral. Claire and Tom buried Tina separately, calling my brother a murderer. I buried Dev alone, only Vike and Flame beside me. He didn’t even get a military service.” I rolled onto my back and tried to breathe. “That kid was my whole fucking life, and I ain’t seen him in years.” I looked at the picture of us all on my graduation from the Marines and didn’t even recognize those people anymore. I didn’t recognize me. “He’d be fifteen now.” I ran my hand over Zane’s face. “And I don’t fucking know him. I never will.” “AK.” Phebe laid her head on my shoulder. “I have no words to say to you. I do not know how to be of help.” I felt her in my arms. “You are, just by being here,” I said. “You help because you understand. No other person has ever understood me like you do.” I held her close. “You understand me, and I get you.” Silence stretched as I stared at the ceiling, completely drained. “AK?” Phebe’s sleepy voice finally asked. “Yeah?” “Are they still there?” I tensed and looked at the end of the bed. I knew what she meant. The terrors. I braced myself for seeing those fucked-up faces . . . but then I exhaled a long, long breath. “No,” I said hoarsely, seeing only the darkness of the night. “They’ve gone,” I said, a sudden lightness creeping to my heavy heart. “They’ve gone.” “Mm,” she murmured and rubbed her cheek against my chest. “That is because you are not to blame either.” I glanced down at Phebe’s red hair and took in her words. You are not to blame either . . . I didn’t remember falling asleep, but that night I slept. For more than two fucking hours. And I didn’t dream at all.
Chapter Sixteen
AK
“Hello,” Phebe said as I opened my eyes. She was still lying beside me where we had fallen asleep last night. My eyes felt like they’d taken one hell of a beating. My throat was raw, and I was exhausted. “Hey.” I glanced down to see her hand still in mine. I flinched when I stared directly at a ray of light coming through the crack between the curtain and the window. “It’s morning?” I ran my hand over my bare chest. I must have taken my shirt off in the night. “It is afternoon.” She smiled. “We slept the entire morning and night.” Her smile left her lips, and she lifted her free hand and ran it down my face. “How are you feeling?” “Rough,” I said. Phebe was looking at me, clearly wanting me to say more. I stretched out my neck and thought of last night. Of everything I had confided. I waited for the usual tight chest. The shame and the guilt. And it was there. I was sure it would never go away. But today it was . . . less. “Better,” I said and meant it. “A little better.” Her eyes softened. “Good.” She kissed my hand again. “I have been thinking while you slept.” “Yeah?” She nodded. “I think . . . I think we were meant to find each other, AK. I think we were meant to find each other, to leave hell together.” I didn’t reply. I had no words. “I think that no solution is quick, and no remedy will magically make our pain drift away. I believe that we must go through this pain we are feeling in order to move on. And I believe whatever God or greater power exists above us brought us together so we may heal together. Heal the other in a way that no other person ever could.” Her eyes dipped, and a fuck-off blush coated her freckled cheeks. “At least that is what I have been considering.” She laughed a single laugh. “But that could be me just being silly.” “No.” I put my hand under her chin. I lifted her face, waiting until those shy eyes were back on me. “I think you’re right, Red. I think you could be fucking right.” A beaming smile lit up her face. “What?” “Red,” she said with a sigh. “I like it when you call me Red.” “Yeah?” A nod. “Yes.” I shuffled closer and closer until my nose touched her nose and my lips hovered over hers. “You know what I like?” She shook her head. “Your lips, on mine.” She swallowed and pressed a hand on my chest. The minute her hand met my skin, my cock stirred in my jeans. “You do?” she asked softly. I ran my teeth over my bottom lip. “Mm . . .” I leaned in and brushed my lips over hers until I heard a moan from her mouth. I ran my hand up her bare arm to the thin strap of her nightgown. Her skin bumped at my touch, and I smiled at all the freckles covering her body. “AK,” she murmured and closed her eyes. “Red?” “Kiss me,” she begged. I pushed my hand into her hair. And I fucking kissed her. My lips stung, the after-effects of the fucking crying. My lips—and hers—were swollen, but I sure as fuck wasn’t pulling back and neither was she. My tongue pushed through into her mouth, and she moaned. I wasn’t hurried. I wasn’t fast. Being with her, like this, was different. No bitch had ever known me, not
like this. No one had ever known everything about my demons—not even Vike and AK knew how bad the terrors had gotten. But Red did. And I knew her. Knew of her abuse. The kid. The same guilt and shame that ran though my veins ran through hers too. I broke from Phebe’s mouth, and she gasped for breath. I didn’t stop. I tracked my lips down her neck, pushing her red hair back on the pillow. The two of us took up every inch of this narrow bed, but I liked it. She was here, under me, beside me, and no matter where she or I moved, the other was there. I shifted on top of her, moving her underneath my body. My arms flexed on either side of her head as I looked down at her. Her blue eyes were wide, the pupils blown. “Fucking beautiful.” I pushed the remaining strands of hair from her face. “AK,” she said, and her hushed voice seemed to hold a note of surprise. Her cheeks were flushed, but I could still see her freckles underneath the pink. And then it hit me. She had been whored out, probably been fucked in more ways than most bitches would ever see in a lifetime. But when it came to this, slow, meaning more than seducing and coming, she was fucking lost. Like this, she may as well have been a virgin. Fuck, me too. Ain’t ever taken a bitch like this, face to face, eye to eye. Ain’t ever taken a bitch with honesty laid down between us, nothing left unsaid. And ain’t ever took a bitch I liked. Fuck . . . I liked Phebe. “You . . . you are beautiful too.” She smiled shyly and nervously put her hand on my face. She’d said her daughter had been beautiful and shy. I wondered if she hadn’t been brainwashed and groomed until she was a man’s wet dream, if she’d have been shy too. Fuck, she had beauty in spades. And right now, she was as nervous as hell. Bending down, needing to feel her mouth on mine, I kissed her, quickly breaking away to kiss down her neck. Phebe’s hands wrapped in my hair as I carried on further south—over her collarbone and down until the neckline of her nightdress got in my way. Glancing back up at her, making sure she wanted this, I lifted the hem of her dress and slowly brought it up, baring her legs, her pussy, her stomach and eventually her tits. When she didn’t protest, I brought it over her head and threw it to the ground. I sat back on my heels and looked down at her on the narrow bed. Her skin was bright white, but perfect. My hands landed on her calves, then traced up over her thighs, over her hips, along her stomach until they reached her tits. Slowly and gently, I ran my fingers over the flesh until I reached her nipples. She exhaled a quick breath as the pads of my thumbs ran over her flesh. I met her gaze. Her swollen lips were parted. Her back arched as I touched her, explored her body. But best of all, her nervous eyes, when they locked on me, calmed and settled. “You good, Red?” A small smile pulled on her lips and she nodded. “Good.” I lowered my head and circled the tip of my tongue around her nipple. Phebe moaned and shifted on the bed. I palmed her tit, then sucked the full bud into my mouth. My cock slammed against the fly of my jeans. She tasted fucking perfect. So I took more. I sucked and licked until she started pulling on my hair, silently begging for more. Breaking from her tits, the flesh now wet and red, I licked down her torso to her stomach. My hands stayed on her hips, keeping her in place. “AK,” she murmured over and over. I stopped between her legs. My thumbs stroked down from her hips and along the top of her thighs. “Please,” she begged as her legs spread wider and she bared her pussy for my eyes. Her eyes were hooded, and she was biting on her lip. “Gonna lick you, Red,” I said, my voice deep and raw. Her eyes closed, and a groan slipped from her throat. “You want that?” “Yes,” she whispered. “Please . . .” Needing no more permission than that, I shuffled down the bed until my chest pressed against the mattress and my feet moved off the end. I braced my elbows down, and parting the lips of her pussy with
my thumbs, leaned forward and licked a long stripe from her hole to her clit. Phebe’s hips jerked from the bed, and I had to press them down to keep her place. Her moans were long and just as sweet as her pussy as I did it again, and again. I sucked her clit into my mouth, feeling it swell. “AK,” she murmured. “I cannot take it . . . it feels . . . it feels . . .” I stopped and lifted my head. Her desperate eyes met mine, her cheeks beaming red. “Perfect,” she said. Her hand reached down and ran along my cheek. “So, so perfect.” I saw the tears build in her eyes. I saw her looking down at me like no bitch had ever looked at me before. So I licked her again. I sucked her clit slowly, carefully, listening as she began to lose her breath. Her hands tightened in my hair as I felt her clench around my tongue. Then she stilled, and a loud cry came from her chest and filled up the room. I didn’t stop. I was addicted to her taste as she came into my mouth. I lapped at her pussy until her hand pushed me away. I stood and shucked off my jeans as I watched Phebe depleted on the bed, gasping for breath. Her long hair was splayed on the pillow, wild and untamed. I kicked my jeans aside and stroked along my hard cock. Phebe lay still and just watched me as I slowly climbed over her, gently dragging my hand over her bare skin as I did. I walked my hands up the mattress until they landed on either side of her head. I stared down at her face, not saying a thing. I just wanted to look at her, like this. No bullshit temptress shit. No talk of cocks and fucking and wanting to take me. Just her, like this, nervous and shy and fresh from coming under my tongue. “Christ,” I growled and pushed my tongue into her mouth. Phebe’s hands wrapped around my neck and she pulled me close, like the bitch couldn’t let me go. I didn’t want her to. I was fine just where the fuck I was. Using my knees to spread her legs, I slipped my hips down until my cock ran over her wet pussy. I groaned as I drank her moans. Phebe broke from my mouth and just fucking breathed. “Want you, Red,” I said, my voice rough. “I . . . want this,” she said. Pulling my head back, so I could see her eyes, I said, “I wanna take you. Wanna take this pussy, this fucking bruised soul and this heart. You good with that?” Phebe’s lips shook, and tears filled her eyes. My fucking throat thickened at the sight. “Yes,” she said with a watery laugh, pushing a smile on her lips. “I want that.” Her head lifted and she kissed my lips. “Take me,” she said against my mouth. Groaning, I pushed forward, my cock slipping inside her, inch by inch, until I hit home and bottomed out. “Fuck!” I hissed as her pussy wrapped around me. Phebe’s head fell back on the pillow, and her fingers tightened on the nape of my neck. I buried my face into her neck, inhaling her sweet scent as I moved my hips. My back and arm muscles flexed as I rocked into her, back and forth. Slow, and unhurried. Our breathing was deep and labored. Phebe’s hands fell from around my neck, and a breathy moan came from her mouth. I lifted my head. I needed to see her face. I needed her to know who was taking her. I needed to watch her eyes. I swallowed when I saw them. I fucking almost broke again when I saw them, brimming with tears, slow drops falling down her cheeks as I kept moving gently, filling her over and over again, calmly, fucking softly. “AK,” she mouthed silently. Her lashes were wet, and her lips were shaking. I felt her pussy walls clenching my dick and moved my hips faster. But I never moved my eyes from hers and she didn’t move hers from me. My breathing stuttered when I saw a flash of redness travel down her neck and over her chest. Her hips rocked against mine, and fuck, it felt incredible. She wound her fingers in my hair, then slipped them down to gently cup my cheeks. Her lips parted. I felt her pussy clamp down as she came with a long, soft moan. The feel of her coming, the sight of her face, and those fucking hands on my cheeks saw me following behind. My hands balled into fists as I came, thrusting into her. I stilled, groaning, but never moving my eyes from hers. She stroked my cheeks as I relaxed my arms and
caught my breath. I kissed her then, tasting the salt from her tears in my mouth, on my tongue. I kissed her and kissed her until I had no choice but to break away and take a breath. I pressed my forehead to Phebe’s and closed my eyes. I had no idea what we to call what we had just done, but it wasn’t just fucking. As if reading my mind, Phebe whispered, “Making love.” I reared back so my face was hovering just an inch from hers. Her eyes were wide and searching. “That was it, was it not? That was . . . making love?” I swallowed, not knowing what the fuck to say to that. Love . . .? “I had heard talk of it before, but never believed it could be true.” She smiled, her bottom lip trembling. I wanted nothing more than to fucking hold the bitch and tell her everything would be okay. “It has never been like that before, not for me. This was different. I, with you, am different. I . . .” She thought for a moment. “I am at peace.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “Does that make sense? That you bring me peace?” “Yeah,” I said and, as I watched her face, I realized she did the fucking same to me. “You give me peace too.” By her huge smile, you’d think I’d just told her I was the answer to all her prayers. Fuck, I was starting to wonder if she would become the answer to mine. Phebe traced the lines of my tattoos, then fucking blew me apart when she said, “What if this is simply the dark before the sun?” “What?” “What if we are being held in midnight, AK? Both of us locked in the dark of our pasts. Together. And maybe we must endure the darkness for a while.” I swallowed, eyes fixed on hers. “But then, one day will come the sunrise. The darkness will end, and the sunlight will pour in. Sunrise, AK. Just imagine.” She smiled and nearly broke my fucking heart. “We can chase the sunrise together. We can be the sunrise . . . together.” “Yeah,” I said, unable to get the word ‘sunrise’ from my head. I wanted that. I wanted the fucking sunrise. I wanted the sunrise with Red. “AK?” She pushed my hair behind my ear. “Can we stay here longer?” “Yeah,” I said, knowing we had another week we could kill. “Good.” So I made love to her again before we fell asleep. And not a single nightmare came calling.
*****
I woke, alone, blinking in the dark of the evening. Still feeling raw from last night, from actually sharing my fucked-up past with someone, I walked out of the bedroom. The cupboard had been packed away and closed—but without the lock. The spilled food had been cleaned up. But it was the center wall that had me losing my fucking breath. Two pictures. Two pictures hung on the wall, held up by small nails. Zane and Devin in one, and Tina, Dev, Zane and me in the other. I didn’t hear her step beside me, but her hand came around my waist from behind, and she pressed a kiss to my bare shoulder blade. “They deserve to be shown,” she said softly, then moved to the counter. She took something in her hands and brought it to me. I tried to see what it was, but she was on her tiptoes and threading something over my head before I could. It smelled clean, whatever it was. And when I felt the familiar feel of metal against my skin, I knew. Devin’s dog tags. My heart beat too fast, and I didn’t dare look down. “They boasted your brother’s name. They fell out
of the cupboard when I was putting everything back.” She paused. “I do not think that happened by chance. I think it meant that you were meant to have them, wear them, proudly.” I couldn’t speak, but almost fell apart when she said, “You were not to blame for what happened. You must begin to forgive yourself, or how else will you move on?” “And you?” She smiled weakly. “I will endeavor to accept this too. I replay the memories of each time I saw her in my mind. There are not enough. I should have more, but I am beginning to understand that that was robbed from me. And . . .” She took a deep breath. “And not my doing.” “I’m fucking proud of you.” Her eyes fell. “Thank you.” Looking up through her long lashes, she said, “I am proud of you too.” And fuck, I didn’t expect the blow that compliment dealt. Phebe walked over to the picture of Zane and Devin. “He looks like you and your brother.” She smiled. “More like you.” “Yeah,” I said roughly, still unused to talking about them all like this. “That’s what Dev and Tina used to say. A mini-me.” “I wonder what he looks like now,” she mused, then moved back to the kitchen. I walked outside and started a fire in the fire pit. I sat down in the reclining chair and tipped my head to the sky. Looking at the stars with Devin’s dog tags around my neck, I wondered what Zane’s life had been like. I wondered if he loved Claire and Tom like parents. I wondered if he remembered much of his mom and dad . . . I wondered if he remembered me. I wondered if he liked bikes, like me and his dad always did. My stomach sank . . . I wondered if he hated Dev for what he did. I wondered if hated me. “AK?” Phebe came outside, carrying something in her arms. Her face was bright and excited as she laid it on the ground. “What is this?” I leaned forward to see Dev’s old vinyl player. “It plays music,” I said, remembering how Styx and Ky had said the cult bitches didn’t know shit about technology. “It does?” she said, and her face lit up like Christmas. I couldn’t help but smirk. Her hand ran over the record player and she sighed. “When we used to go out and recruit, when we fished the men, we always had one purpose. To seduce them. But I had a secret.” My eyebrow rose in question. “I loved to dance.” She shrugged. “The brothers that took us eventually let me do it, as they said it made the men want me more. But I did not do it for them. When the music played, I lost all my worries. I lost . . . myself . . .” She laughed and shook her head. “I am a silly woman.” I got up from my seat and went back into the lodge. I found an extension cord and brought it to the player. Phebe watched me curiously as I switched it on and it crackled to life. I moved the pin and couldn’t help but huff out a laugh when a familiar song burst through the speakers. Phebe gasped when the music filled the air around us. “What is it?” I made my way back to my seat, rubbing the back of my neck. “Bowie. ‘Heroes.’” I paused. “Dev’s favorite song. He used to play this song on repeat.” So I had put it on repeat too. Phebe closed her eyes and swayed to the beat. Her white off-the-shoulder dress swung around her legs. Her long red hair hung in loose waves, brushing against her freckled skin as she moved. She smiled and got to her feet. Completely lost in her own world, she lifted her arms in the air and her body swayed to the beat. Her hips moved to the rhythm of the song. . . and I couldn’t fucking look away. I lay back on the reclining seat, keeping my eyes fixed on her as she let Bowie’s words dictate her movements. And I saw it. I saw why man after man would be sucked in by her. The smile on her lips widened as she danced, her pale skin looking bright white against the firelight. And then she opened her eyes. She opened those fucking perfect blue eyes and they landed straight on me. She took hold of the hem of her knee-length dress and swayed the material in her hands as she came
toward me. And fuck, but she seduced me. Bitch was dancing for me, and I knew this was just her. No tricks, no training, this was her feeling the beat and doing what she fucking wanted. Hottest thing I’d ever seen in my life. The track ended, then came back to life. She laughed when she realized it was on repeat, completely giving herself over to what she loved. Not thinking about her kid, or Lilah’s face. About Meister or the fucked-up hell she’d come from. Her gaze locked on mine as she danced in my direction. She lifted her leg and straddled my lap. Her arms looped around my neck, and she tipped her head back, exposing her long pale neck. Her shoulders kept the beat, and her hips ground against me. I hardened in an instant. She felt it, I could tell, because when her eyes lowered, they were leaden. Reaching down, I pulled my cock from my jeans and lifted up her hips. I placed my tip at her pussy and guided her back down. Phebe’s moans were drowned by the music. But she kept moving to the beat, my hands running all over her body. I watched her as she danced, as she took me. She danced and she danced until she came, taking me over the edge with her. Her head fell forward on my shoulder, and she laughed. I tipped my head back, catching my breath. “I like this song,” Phebe said breathlessly. I nodded and smirked. “I always did. Like it even more now.” She giggled. “I like these lyrics. The talk of being heroes.” “Yeah?” “Yes.” She smiled and laid her head on my shoulder. Her head kept time to the beat as Bowie sang about heroes seven more times. “Phebe?” She lifted her head. Her eyes were tired, but they were so fucking alive. “You’re moving in with me when we get back. You ain’t going back to Li’s. You belong with me.” Red eyebrows rose in shock, but then a fucking melting smile came on her lips. “I belong with you,” she said and lay back on me, wrapping her arms around my waist. Making love, she’d called our fucking. I thought about that, running over the words in my head. And fuck, bitch was right. She’d hooked me in, I’d taken the bait, but unlike the other unlucky bastards, she was never leaving me . . . because I’d hooked her in too. For good.
Chapter Seventeen
Phebe
One week later . . .
“Sapphira?” My feet ran over the hard ground, propelled by the racing of my heart. The man pulled her into a big building. I ran, breath stolen as I followed them inside. I choked on the smell. Then saw the man touching her leg as he pinned her down on a bed and pushed potion into her arm. Sapphira’s head fell to the side, and her brown eyes stared lifelessly at me. Her big brown eyes, with that notable freckle to the side of the left. “Sapphira!” I ran forward and took her hand. All I felt was bones and coldness. I pushed it against my cheek, trying to wake her from her stupor, but her eyes just stared. “Sapphira?” I cried, feeling my heart rip on seeing her in such a state of disarray. Her legs were bruised. Her face was bloodied. My beautiful baby was in pain. Forced into this hell too. Her head turned, and I stilled. “Save me,” she said, her voice broken and sorrowful, devoid of life. “Save me, Mother . . . remember . . .” “Remember what?” I asked, squeezing her hand, but her head lolled to the side once more and her eyes closed. I leaped forward and shook her too-thin shoulders. “Sapphira! Remember what?” But there was nothing, nothing but the echo of her whispered words . . . “Save me, Mother . . . remember . . .” My eyes flew open, but my body was paralyzed on the bed. “Phebe?” AK’s panicked voice reached my ears. I concentrated on breathing, but all I could hear was the residual echo of Sapphira’s dream voice begging me to help her. To remember. “Remember what?” I croaked in confusion, my dry throat capturing my words. AK’s face came over mine, his eyebrows pulled down. “Phebe, you were having a nightmare.” I blinked his face into focus and concentrated on his words. A nightmare. It was a nightmare? It felt so real. My heart reacted as though my daughter were speaking to me in real life. Sometimes my dreams felt like memories. Sometimes my memories felt like dreams. It was impossible to know which was real and which was false. I lifted my hand and stared at the palm, at the fingers. I clenched it into a fist. Because I could feel Sapphira’s small, bony hand in my own. Feel her cold, dry skin as if it were still clutched in mine. “Phebe?” AK said again, then pressed his lips against mine. My eyes closed the minute I felt his comforting warmth seep into my mouth. His kiss was gentle, coaxing, and eventually my body relaxed and I slipped my arms around his neck. It was a nightmare. It was only a nightmare. AK ran his finger down my face. “You okay?” I inhaled deeply, then nodded. “I . . .” I swallowed. “I dreamed of Sapphira. She was in trouble.” My eyes shimmered as I recalled her pleading words. “She called me ‘Mother,’” I whispered, my throat catching with emotion. AK’s worried expression softened. “We’ll find her,” he said. I looked at him in confusion. He shrugged. “I already got someone looking.” “You do?” I asked, barely able to believe he was speaking the truth. “Yeah.” He glanced away, then said, “We’ll find her. Wherever she is, we’ll get her back for you.” I studied this man, this man with the kindest eyes there ever were, and launched myself up and wrapped
my arms around him. “Thank you.” I held him as tightly as I could. When I pulled back, I looked about the room. For a moment I was confused as to where we were, but then I remembered we had driven home from the lodge last night. As if reading my mind, AK said, “You fell asleep. I brought you in and put you to bed.” He paused. “It was an intense couple of weeks.” I smiled, remembering the blissful time we had spent at the lodge. The waterfall, the music, the fire . . . the lovemaking. Then it hit me that we had returned. “I must visit Lilah,” I said. AK nodded. “She knows you’re back. She wanted to come see you this morning, but I told her to wait until you were ready.” “I am ready.” I got out of bed. “I . . .” I steadied myself. “I will tell her why I was drinking.” I straightened my back. “I will tell her it all. She deserves to know.” I kissed AK’s cheek and made my way to the shower. After I had cleaned and dressed, I went through to the kitchen. AK sat at the table with Asher. I started momentarily when I remembered that he lived here too. “Phebe, you remember Asher?” AK said, and Asher gave me a tight nod. “Yes. Hello, Asher.” “Phebe,” Ash said, then turned back to AK. “You have to see it, AK. I’ll show you again. Flame couldn’t believe his fucking eyes!” I moved to sit beside AK, but he took my hand and pulled me down to his lap. Asher barely batted an eyelash at the movement. I sat awkwardly on AK’s lap as he explained, “Been teaching Lil’ Ash how to shoot. While we were away he hit the furthest target where we practice. Like the one at the lodge.” My eyes widened, remembering AK getting that target, impossibly so. “Impressive,” I said. Asher shrugged. “I had a good teacher.” I felt AK tense a little underneath me. I knew why that was. I knew that as much as he clearly adored Asher, he was thinking of Zane. Asher and Zane would not be so different in age. The nephew he never got to see. AK looked up at me. “Ash can take you to Li’s, then I’ll go with him to the range.” I leaned into AK affectionately, the action becoming ever more natural. “I will walk.” I glanced out of the window at the bright sun. “It is a beautiful day, and I will enjoy the walk through the woods. I like to walk.” “You sure?” he asked. I kissed his forehead. “I am sure.” I rose from his lap and put on my sandals. Asher went into his bedroom, and AK immediately pulled me into his chest. I lost my breath at the contact of my chest hitting his, and I laughed. His hands cupped my face. “You find it hard, tell Li to call my cell and I’ll come get you. You hear anything you don’t like and it makes you want a drink, same thing. Call me. I’ll get you.” I put my hands on his wrists. “I will. I promise. But I will be fine. This conversation is long overdue.” I moved closer and AK’s lips took my own. I moaned, as I always did when his tongue pushed into my mouth. When he broke away I was breathless. “Go,” he said gruffly. “Before I drag you back to the bedroom and never let you out for the rest of the day.” I laughed as he adjusted the crotch of his jeans. I heard a door open behind us and spun around. Asher stood in his doorway, his face scarlet red. “I will see you soon,” I said. “We’re cooking out tonight,” AK said. “Most of the brothers will be coming down.” I smiled and made my way to the door. The minute I was in the fresh air, I inhaled deeply. I heard Asher laugh at AK inside the cabin, and my heart lost a beat in sorrow. AK was so good with him. It was a travesty that he was separated from Zane. I walked into the covering of trees and breathed deeply, welcoming the fresh air as it filled my lungs
and calmed my troubled heart. The dream of Sapphira that would not leave my mind. I had concealed my worry from AK, how much it had shaken me. After everything he was going through too, I knew he did not need more worry in his life. But I could not free her from my mind. The thought of her on that bed, with the potion in her arm. Her cold arm . . . and her calling me “Mother.” Mother. “Sapphira,” I said into the breeze, trying interpret what the dream meant. Even when I arrived at the edge of Lilah’s home, I could not shake Sapphira’s words, her cries for help . . . The sound of high-pitched laughter made my feet grind to a halt. Grace was running from the house, Lilah on her heels. Lilah laughed as Grace screamed and tried to evade capture. But Lilah managed to catch the little girl and lift her into the air. I stepped out of the cover of trees, and saw the minute Lilah saw it was me. “Phebe!” Grace jumped from Lilah’s arms and ran my way. Her arms wrapped around my legs. I laughed at how rough she was, how excitable. When I looked down, her eyebrows were pulled together. “Where were you?” Bending down, I explained, “I had to go away for a little while. But I am back now.” “You are not living with us?” I shook my head. “No.” I looked up to see Lilah watching, listening. “I live with AK now.” “Near Aunt Maddie?” she asked. “Yes.” “AK is your husband?” I smiled, unsure what to call AK. “Of a sort,” I eventually replied. When I looked at Lilah again, I saw the surprise on her face. “Grace?” Lilah said. “Go read for a while. I need to talk to your Aunt Phebe alone.” Aunt Phebe. I liked those words. Grace did as she was asked, leaving Lilah and I face to face and alone. Lilah came closer and took my hand. “Are . . . are you better?” Sudden sadness hit me for what I had put Lilah through. “Yes.” Lilah’s shoulders relaxed. “And you are with AK?” “Yes,” I said again. Lilah studied my face. I saw more questions coming my way, but I had to tell her what I came here to say before I lost the courage. “Lilah,” I said. “I . . . I must explain something to you.” I laughed without mirth, knowing the pain I suffered was about to rise once more. “About me, and why I did what I did . . . why I drowned out my sorrows. About things that have happened in my life that you do not know. That I want you to know.” “Okay,” Lilah said quietly. I heard the subtle edge of nerves in her voice. “Come over here.” She led me to the chairs on the lawn. Her hand never left mine, a quiet support. And, with a deep breath, I told her everything.
“Phebe . . .” Lilah said sadly when I finished talking. Tears were streaming down her face. “Where is she? Your Sapphira?” “I do not know.” I lowered my head. “But I dream of her often. I see her in my mind’s eye each day. She is always with me, yet so far away at the same time.” I frowned. “Last night I dreamed she was begging me for help. She was hurt and afraid and needed me. I dreamed . . .” I turned my head away to escape Lilah’s stare. Lilah’s hand squeezed mine. “She called me ‘Mother.’” I laughed through my tears. “Finally, Lilah. She called me ‘Mother.’” “Phebe . . .” Lilah whispered in sympathy. “But she does not even know. She believes I am her sister.” I paused. “But I cannot get this dream from my head. Dreams fade, become a forgotten memory. This one grows stronger by the minute.”
“Beauty always says one must listen to their dreams, as there is a message somewhere within them. One which we must listen to. Decipher.” “Beauty?” I asked. “The old lady of one of the brothers, Tank. You will meet her eventually. She is a sweet woman.” I nodded, absently listening to her explanation. But my mind was too preoccupied with what this Beauty said of dreams. That dreams were a message about something. I thought of Sapphira begging me for help. The potion, her hand in mine, her pleading with me to remember . . . trying to find the deeper meaning. “Mama?” Grace’s cautious voice came from the doorway. “I have read four books. Can I come see Aunt Phebe now?” I laughed at how tenacious Grace was. Even in New Zion she had been pushier than other girls. Pushy and beautiful, but her nature muted by the repression we found ourselves in. If Cain had not gotten her out when he did, she would have been deemed a cursed and thus schooled—sexually—by an elder . . . an innocent child, only eight years of age. I thanked God every day that I had hidden her well enough. That she had not fallen into Meister’s arms either. He had always watched her closely. Like he craved her. Like he . . . Ice trickled down my spine. It made me remember something . . . something important . . . Lilah sighed, then looked at me for an answer to Grace’s question. “Of course!” I shouted loud enough for Grace to hear, as whatever bit of information was rising to the surface of my mind slipped away again. Grace sprang from the deck and ran to where we stood. She put her hand in mine and pulled me from my chair. “You know what hide-and-seek is, Aunt Phebe?” “Yes,” I said with an indulgent smile. “We get to go into the woods!” “Not too far, only where I can see you,” Lilah butted in. “I’ll go hide first.” Grace turned me around. “You count to sixty then come and get me.” I heard her running away and began to count. “I know you feel guilty about what happened to me on Perdition Hill,” Lilah said, interrupting my counting. “But you must know what you did for me by bringing Grace into my life. I know you are burdened with guilt. But you gave Ky and me Grace. Nothing else matters beyond that now . . . you made us a family.” Lilah came to stand before me. I stared at her scar and tried not to disagree. Her hand pressed against my cheek. “You would have been a great mother given the chance. You always loved me and cared for me as a child. And Grace adores you, talks of how you cared for her in New Zion when no one else did.” I sucked on my lip to hide the trembling. “And when we find Sapphira again, because the Hangmen will find her, you will get that chance to tell her who you are, that you love her. And she will be the luckiest girl in the world, because she will have you.” “Lilah,” I said softly. She smiled. “And I will be an aunt. I cannot wait.” The sound of rustling leaves came from behind me, and I laughed, knowing it was Grace running through the woods. “Coming, ready or not!” I shouted. I turned from Lilah and ran into the woods. Curiously, with every step, I felt somewhat lighter. Yet something dark remained in the back of my head. Something out of reach that I could simply not decode.
*****
The smell of the smoking barbeque drifted into the woods. I heard the sound of laughter and felt my stomach flip in nerves. This was the rest of the Hangmen. The men who had seen me that night at the bar, seducing, fishing. AK had told me of my actions that night. And as much as he told me I should not be
embarrassed by my behavior, I could not help it. I paused behind AK’s cabin and leaned against a nearby tree. You can do this. I took several deep breaths, and just as I was about to step out of the woods and into the clearing, I saw Ky and AK walking my way. I smiled, about to reveal my presence, but the look on Ky’s face stopped me in my tracks. “They’ve been circling for about two days now. They ain’t done nothing but drive around the compound in a white van. Same fucking time every day: eleven a.m. Like clockwork. Some built skinhead fuckers. But they’re Klan, no doubt. Or Brotherhood—I can never tell these assholes apart.” “Meister?” AK asked roughly, and my heart felt as if it ceased to beat. “Not him personally, but his men, we think.” Ky laughed. “Thinking they can intimidate us. Assholes.” My hand shook on the tree when I thought of Meister. I closed my eyes. Images of him holding me down in New Zion came sailing to my head. Of him biting into my flesh, taking me hard . . . nothing like how AK had taken me. Then . . . I must eradicate what you have seen today from your weak mind. Take all of these new memories away . . . I stumbled when an image I had not remembered before this moment came sailing back to me. A chair of some sort, hard and uncomfortable. Meister’s huge form over me as he injected needle after needle into my flesh. And I fought. I fought to hold on to something I could not forget, had vowed not to forget. I fought and I fought, but it had disappeared. There was nothing. “What’s the plan?” AK said, breaking through my thoughts. “We’re watching them. They don’t look like they’re gonna attack, more just scoping us out for some reason. They can’t see shit from the road anyway. Tanner is monitoring their systems for any red flags. But they try anything, anything at all, we kill them all,” Ky said and hit AK’s arm. “Just wanted you to know. They’ll be looking for Phebe. He knows she’s here. Now she’s your old lady, you needed to fucking know.” “Thanks,” AK said. Ky gave him a wide smile. “Fucking tied down, brother!” He laughed louder. “And to Li’s sister. Does that make us related somehow? You and me fam now, brother?” “I fucking hope not,” AK said in response, and I could not help but feel a warmth in my heart as he laughed. Ky punched his arm, and together they walked back to the clearing. I stayed in the woods for several more minutes, just trying to calm down. Meister knew where I was? Then he would put everyone here in danger. These men did not know him like I did. My stomach dropped . . . Lilah, Grace . . . He would never stop until he captured me. I knew him. I knew how far his obsession with me ran. His men would not simply be circling for intimidation. Meister always had a greater purpose. A loud burst of laughter drifted on the breeze toward me. I made my feet carry me into the clearing. Viking, AK’s best friend, was on his feet. He turned straight to me. “Here she fucking is! The ginger pussy who’s whipped my best friend!” My face paled when all the men and women stared at me. Some regarded me warily, others with kind smiles. I did not know what to do, where to go, or what to think, until . . . “Red. Get the fuck over here.” AK’s voice cut through the music that had started playing. I looked his way and saw him in a chair beside Flame and Maddie. Another dark-haired man, with a beautiful raven-haired woman on his lap, was on his other side. She was pregnant. AK pulled me down onto his knees—a move I had become increasingly used to. His lips came to my ear. “You good?” I turned to face him and kissed him on his stubbled cheek. “I am good,” I lied, not wanting him to worry. Worry that I now knew about Meister’s men. Worry about the nightmare that would not go from my mind, or the fact that I was beginning to remember things about the town I was rescued from.
I just wanted AK to be happy. I had seen glimpses of it at the lodge. I did not want my burdens to drag him back down to darkness. The sound of Viking’s voice pulled everyone’s focus again. “And then this other time, AK and Flame burst into the crack house we were stealing from . . .” Men laughed as Viking told tale after tale. And I liked hearing about AK. I liked hearing about silly things he had done in playful moments with his friend, when the weight of his past had not burdened his mind. My eyes drifted to the raven-haired woman beside me. Mae, she was called. I watched her cradle her stomach as she talked to Maddie. Her husband’s hand lay over her bump too, and I felt that same pit form in my own stomach as whenever I saw a mother and child. Only this time it was worse. Save me, Mother . . . remember . . . Beauty said that we find messages in dreams . . . save me, Mother . . . remember . . . I stilled as my blood ran cold. The potion . . . the bed . . . her beaten face . . . Meister telling me I would forget, that he would make me forget it all . . . No, I thought, my heart spiraling into an uncontrolled beat. It could not be true. She was safe, abroad. I knew she had been taken from New Zion. Judah had promised me . . . Judah . . . Judah, who had lied about so much . . . “You okay?” AK asked and turned my face to his. I forced a smile. “Just tired.” I shrieked as AK put his hands under my legs and lifted me into his arms. In front of everyone, he took me toward his cabin. I looked around to see them all watching us intently. My face burned with embarrassment. “You that desperate for a fuck?” Viking shouted as we reached the cabin’s door. AK flipped his finger at Viking and walked into the cabin. He laid me down on the bed, stripped me of my clothes and then shed his own. He climbed under the covers and drew me into his arms. I did not want him to see how panicked I was inside. AK was perceptive. He saw things within me that no one ever had. I needed to deflect his attention. “You like Viking very much, do you not?” I asked. He rolled his eyes in affectionate exasperation. “Can’t shake the fucker,” he replied. “That night I saw Dev in the hospital, I went to a bar. I needed a drink so fucking bad. It was a biker bar Dev sometimes took me to when we were both on leave. I was sitting at the bar when that asshole giant came and sat next to me. He saw me in my Marine fatigues. Fucker just smiled at me and asked, ‘How many of the assholes have you killed?’ Just came right out and asked me.” AK laughed, and I loved hearing the rumbling sound from his mouth. “I told him to fuck off, and the fucker just laughed in my face. Five minutes later, he got into a fight with some meatheads by running his mouth again. I was itching for a fight after seeing Dev in such a damn state, so I had his back. We knocked out four of the cunts in minutes. He shook my hand, bought me a drink and asked me if I’d like to ride bikes and knock more fuckers out on a daily basis. I said yes. He brought me here, introduced me to Styx’s old man, and by the next day I was the newest prospect of the Hades Hangmen. Fucker never left me alone after that day. Then you know how we got Flame out of the nuthouse, and the rest is history. The Psycho Trio was born. Those two just got me from the start. Did one last tour that I’d already signed up for, then left the Marines for good. Been at this club ever since.” “You love them like family,” I said. “Viking, Flame and now Asher.” AK inhaled and lost his humor. “Yeah. Love all my brothers here, but those two are my best friends. I’d have been fucking lost without them when all the shit went down. They kept me from spiraling down to a place I couldn’t get back from.” His eyes fell. “Like I wanted to do for you.” My heart skipped a beat. “You are a good man, Xavier Deyes.” I placed my hand on his cheek. AK looked at me in surprise, and knowing he was the most special man I would ever meet, I spoke from my heart. “I . . . I love you,” I whispered and saw his eyes widen. “I do not expect you to say it back. I just . . . I just wanted you to
know that my heart is now in your hands. You have honor, and pride, and the kindest soul in existence.” I tried to keep my voice from breaking. I tried to hide this . . . goodbye. “Fuck, Red.” He rolled me onto my back, his eyes searching my face. “I love you too.” My heart swelled more than I thought possible. And AK kissed me. He kissed me, and with such grace and adoration, made love to me, slowly, passionately, lovingly. Afterwards, still wrapped in AK’s arms, I fell asleep. And when I saw Sapphira in my head again, begging me for help, I took her cold, bruised hand and promised, “I am coming for you, sweetheart. I will be with you soon.”
*****
I stopped at the edge of Lilah’s home. Just one more time. I had to see her and Grace one more time. Grace was playing with dolls on the lawn. A smile came to my lips when I saw Ky sitting opposite her playing with dolls too. “Why the fuck am I doing this shit?” he said to Lilah, who was watching them happily. “Because you are her papa and she wanted to play with you.” “You wanna learn how to dismantle a bike, Grace? Get your hands dirty with oil and shit instead? It’ll be fun.” “No.” She thrust a doll at him. “We’re playing dolls. And Jamie-Rae needs to go to the salon to get her hair fixed.” “Fuck my life!” Ky groaned and took the doll from her hand. Lilah laughed at her husband, and my heart ached at how perfect they looked. She had found it—true happiness. “Orrrrr,” Grace sang. “We could play hide-and-seek again?” “Again?” Lilah said in exasperation. “What is it with you and this game?” “It’s my favorite!” “Done.” Ky got to his feet. “Anything but this doll horseshit.” I backed away from the edge of the backyard when I saw Grace head toward the woods to hide. I dashed through to the path, never looking back. I knew it would be nearly time, if Ky’s information had been correct. I kept running until I broke through the trees and onto the edge of the road. There were no cars or trucks yet. It was quiet, so I stood and waited. I fought my nerves. I knew what would be waiting for me. But I had to do it. AK would be safe, and I knew she was there. The dreams were too real to be dreams. He had her. I knew it. Something in my gut told me I had to find her. I had felt something click into place last night as AK slept, holding me close. A truth that I knew was real. He had her. I heard the sound of an engine coming from the bend in the road and took a deep breath. A white van— the one Ky had told AK about last night—approached. I steeled my nerves. This would be my only chance to get to Sapphira. Ky had said they came once a day. This was my only chance. AK read me too easily. If I left it any longer, he would know something was wrong. If I told him what I had remembered, he would never let me do this. But I would not risk his life, or the lives of his brothers. I fisted my hands in an effort to stifle the trembling. The van came to an abrupt stop. A man I did not recognize came out of the van, smiled and shook his head. I did not know him, but it was obvious he knew me. He quickly looked around the woods suspiciously. “It can’t be this fucking easy.” I tried to take a step back. A gun was suddenly aimed at me, two more men coming out of the van with their guns out too.
“Get in,” the first man ordered, and another man opened the back door of the van. Terror held my legs in place and I stayed rooted to the spot. The man nearest me lurched forward, wrapping his arms around my waist. I held back my instinct to scream for help. My captor dragged me toward the van. We were only a step from the back doors when I heard a sound that made my body jerk in horror and the blood drain from my face. “Found you, Aunt Phebe!” I turned my head, only to see Grace burst through the trees and stumble to a stop at the edge of the road. Her blue eyes widened when she saw me in the man’s arms. “Run!” I screamed, sheer terror seizing control of my body. “Run, Grace! RUN!” A hand slapped over my mouth, stopping my frantic order. Grace turned, face pale, and moved to run back into the woods. She had barely made it five yards before the second man had grabbed her by her hair and slammed his hand over mouth. She fought. Little Grace fought, kicked and thrashed against her capture, but the man was too big and too strong. I tried to break free. I scratched and clawed at my captor’s arms. Then the end of a gun plowed into my face, making my vision blur and my head spin. I was thrown into the back of the van, my cheek smashing against the hard floor with a thud. “Aunt Phebe!” I lifted my head, ignoring the lights dancing across my vision to see Grace being thrown in beside me. I scrambled to where she was and took her in my arms. “Grace,” I said, tears beginning to pour down my cheeks. “Wh-Who are these men? I thought we were playing hide-and-seek.” “We’ll be okay,” I said, not knowing what else I could say. “Call Meister. Tell him we got her,” one of the men said as they slammed the doors shut and plunged us into darkness, all except a small light above us. I heard the front doors open and close and the engine turn on. “Aunt Phebe?” Grace’s small, scared voice asked from in my arms. “Come here, sweetheart.” I pulled her into my arms. “You’re bleeding,” she said and I heard her voice tremble. I smiled. “I am fine.” “Where . . . where are we going?” I held Grace tighter, fighting back my tears. “It will all be fine,” I said softly, knowing that every word was a lie. “I will not let anything happen to you, I swear.” Then the van drove away.
Chapter Eighteen
AK
“AK! You here?” Someone was hammering on my cabin’s door. I got up from the table and opened the door. Tanner stood there, rocking on his feet. “She here?” he asked as he came inside. “Phebe?” “Yeah.” “No, she’s gone to see Lilah. Why?” Tanner pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. He held it in the air. Ash came out from his bedroom, looking on. “No such thing as a fucking old folks’ home in that cult.” My jaw clenched as Tanner sat down. I sat down opposite and waited for him to continue. “Though I’ve found a Sapphira. Age fourteen. Blond, brown eyes, ninety pounds, Five foot one.” I frowned, wondering how he knew so fucking much about her. “Where?” He slammed down the paper and pushed it toward me. It was a spreadsheet, like an inventory or some shit. Shipping forms to Mexico, private accounts. “Meister ain’t just trafficking these bitches as hookers in the ghost town. The asshole is selling them. He gets them, uses them as whores, then ships them to Mexico to be sold to who-the-fuck-ever for whatever-the-fuck-ever” Tanner pointed to a row on the sheet. “Sapphira. Cult bitch. Sold by ‘Prophet Cain’—Judah—to Meister months ago. Meister has reels and reels of these order sheets. And he’s making a fucking mint selling these whores off to some dick in Mexico. Sapphira is getting shipped out soon. She’s on his latest form.” I felt the anger sweep through me like a storm. “Guessing the date Meister purchased Sapphira is about the time Judah told Phebe he’d sent Sapphira to the old people’s home, yeah?” I nodded, unable to speak. Then I got my shit together and slammed my fist down on the table. “She was in that ghost town with her all that time? She was there with Phebe and neither of them fucking knew it? Drugged. Out of their fucking minds.” Then the storm turned into a motherfucking hurricane. “And I was there! I could have gotten her out too!” I pushed my chair back, jumping from my seat. “Fuck!” I roared and ran my hands through my hair. “We gotta tell Ky and Styx. I need to go back in, I need to—” The door to the cabin flew open, cutting me off. “Is Grace here with Phebe?” Ky was fucking panting, his face red, breath fast. “No.” My eyebrows pulled down. “Phebe’s with Lilah.” Ky shook his head. “No she ain’t. I’ve been with Li all morning. Phebe never came.” As his words hit me, I felt my breathing sound in my ears. “She said she was going to Lilah’s.” Ky stared at me. “We got cameras on that fucking road, right?” Ky took in what I said. “Fuck! Grace disappeared playing hide-and-seek in the woods.” I didn’t think any further, just pushed out of my cabin and jumped on my bike. I heard my brothers do the same behind me as I raced up to the clubhouse. I jumped from my bike and ran through the door. Hush and Cowboy were in the bar. They were on their feet in seconds. “What’s wrong?” Hush asked. I heard Ky, Tanner and Ash run in behind me. “Cameras!” Ky shouted and ran behind the bar to the small side room where the security cameras were kept.
Smiler came to work the monitors. “What you wanna see? And when?” “Perimeter road. ’Bout two hours ago,” I said, thinking of when Phebe left. I looked at the clock on the wall and felt my blood turn to ice. “Around eleven a.m.” Ky stilled and looked at me. “When those fuckers would be on the road.” Smiler scrolled through until he found the footage, and we saw it there before us in grainy black and white. Phebe walking out of the woods, standing on the edge of the road . . . waiting. She’d been fucking waiting for the fuckers. What the fuck? Bulging veins almost broke from my neck when I saw one of the fuckers grab Phebe and drag her back toward the car. Then out from the woods came Grace. I watched Phebe’s face as she obviously heard her. I saw her mouth open and scream something. Fuck, she was telling Grace to run. I could read it on her lips. But the asshole holding her slammed his hand over her mouth then bashed her head with the gun. She sagged forward, fighting consciousness. Another Klansmen took Grace before she’d even reached the edge of the woods and threw them both in the back of the van. They drove away. There was a heavy silence. “Get the prez,” Ky eventually said to Ash, words ice cold. “Get fucking everybody.” His tone was too calm, and with Ky, that meant he was about to fucking blow. Tanner ran out of the room to the office where the computers were held. Fuck knew what he was doing. But I couldn’t move. I was raging. Seething, Fucking growing killing mad. I just stared at the re-run of Phebe standing on the edge of that road, then being knocked the fuck out. Bitch had been giving herself up. She’d been going back. “Why . . . WHY?” I lost my grip on my anger. I picked up a chair and threw it across the room. Arms wrapped around me from behind and suddenly Flame was in my face. “Calm the fuck down.” “We’ll get her back,” Vike said in my ear. Brother after brother came running into the bar. Then Lilah came bursting in, tears pouring down her face. She ran to Ky. “We’ll get her back. I swear,” Ky said to his old lady I watched Lilah. I braced my body, prepping for anyone to dare and fucking lay blame at Phebe’s feet. Lilah looked at me, and I was ready, braced for a fucking fight. But then she said, “She said something to me yesterday. I have thought of little else since Grace went missing.” Lilah’s voice was thick with emotion. She shook her head. “She told me everything about her past. And she said she also had dreams. One in particular where Sapphira asked for her help. A dream where Sapphira was being drugged and held down by a man . . . just like Phebe had been in the ghost town.” I remembered her nightmare. I remembered her holding her hand out in the air when she was still asleep, calling out Sapphira’s name, gripping someone’s phantom hand in her own. “She remembered.” I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “She fucking remembered that Meister had her daughter too.” Lilah’s head fell in disbelief. “It is true? He has Sapphira?” I nodded. “Just found out.” “She will never forgive herself that Grace followed her and was captured by those men.” And fuck, Lilah was right. If things went to shit . . . if we didn’t get them back . . . “We’ll get her,” Vike said, clearly seeing what I was thinking. “Church!” Ky ordered. We piled into church and took our usual seats. Styx burst in, face full of thunder —the fucking Hangmen mute was out in force. With the slam of the door, church was in motherfucking session.
*****
Four hours. Four hours of waiting for Tanner to find something. Four hours, driving myself insane wondering why Red hadn’t told me what she suspected—that Meister had Sapphira. Why the fuck hadn’t she said shit to me? I would have helped. Boots came rushing into the room, and I got to my feet. Hush and Cowboy pulled their bandanas off their faces. “Nothing,” Hush said. Cowboy nodded. “Gone. Everything was cleared out. Fresh tire marks on the ground, so they haven’t been gone long. About three large vans, I’d say. A couple of trucks too.” I sank down on my seat. Ky was pacing the room. “Where the fuck would they have gone?” I remembered Tanner’s sheet on my kitchen table. “Mexico.” Styx and Ky looked right at me. “On the sheet that had Sapphira’s name on, an order sheet or some shit, it had Mexico as the destination.” The door opened, and Tank and Tanner came in, Bull following behind. “Drop-off tomorrow, over the border. Some isolated farming community about twenty miles out of La Cruz.” Tanner read the notes in his hand. “Buyer meets them there and they do a drop-off. Prick called Garcia.” He looked up. “That’s all the info that Meister had recorded.” The minute Garcia’s name was out of Tanner’s mouth, Styx and Ky went completely fucking still. The temperature in the room seemed to drop about twenty degrees. “What?’ I said and watched the prez and the VP look at each other. Silent, unspoken communication. “What?” I asked louder. Ky’s blue eyes were almost black, pupils blown. His skin was mottling with red, and his hands were clenched into fists. “That’s Diablo turf,” Tank said. We go onto their turf, that’s a declaration of war.” We all looked to Styx, who had lifted his hands. He looked at Smiler and signed, “Get in touch with Chavez, the Diablo prez. Tell him we want through the border, undetected, and we need to meet in a neutral place to do it.” He rolled his neck. “We meet them tonight and get in by morning. We gotta be there when the trucks arrive. Surprise the fuckers.” He looked at me. “I know that’s your bitch, but we need you and Smiler to get us a plan together. Tanner?” Styx looked at the White Prince. “You got us some eyes on this farm place?” Tanner nodded. “Old, but it’s something.” “Get it to AK. He needs to see the plans.” “This treaty with the Diablos gonna stand when we all rock up in their territory?” Cowboy asked Styx. “Guess we’ll fucking see,” Ky answered for Styx. “We’re all going,” Styx signed. “Bikes and trucks.” “We’re taking Rider too,” I said and felt every pair eyes on me. I looked up. “You ain’t seen what this Meister prick does to these bitches. We have.” I pointed to Flame, Vike, Hush and Cowboy. I shifted on my seat. “Fuck knows what state we’ll be getting them back in. ’Bout three hours thirty from here to La Cruz. Something goes down, or he’s hurt Phebe or Grace, Rider’ll be needed. And if Sapphira is there, that bitch has been getting raped and drugged non-stop for months.” I shook my head. “I ain’t taking no chances with any of it. He’s coming. He’s the only medic that knows how to be on the road when shit goes down. Like it or not, he fought with us in the last war, and we need him now more than anyone wants to admit.” “I’ll get him,” Smiler said and left the room. “We leave in an hour,” Styx signed. “Gather all the guns we can.” The gavel was slammed on the table, and we all fled to get our shit together. I saw Lilah waiting in the bar, but I swung outta the back door and onto my bike. I was at my cabin in minutes and gathering my guns. I pulled my favorite sniper rifle from my trunk and made sure I had a fuck-ton of bullets. Ash came bursting in the door, face serious, and moved to the same trunk. He took the gun he’d been practicing with and loaded it up. I put my hand on his arm. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Ash stilled. “I’m coming.”
“Like fuck you are!” I snapped. The kid straightened his shoulders. “I’m driving the van with Slash. Rider’s in the back with all the medical supplies. Styx ordered it.” I stood right in front of him, watching his determined black eyes meet mine, unwavering. “You get we could be walking into a fucking warzone, kid? You get some of us might not make it back? This Meister fucker ain’t no joke.” I held up my gun. “We’ll kill. A lot.” Ash tipped his chin up, defiant. “I’m ready,” he said confidently. “I can shoot. And I’m ready for a war if we get one.” I watched this sixteen-year-old kid. Watched as he changed from a kid to a fucking man right before my eyes. If I wasn’t so full of anger and hate for Meister, I’d have been fucking proud. I grabbed hold of his prospect cut and yanked him forward. “Don’t do nothing stupid. Stick by me or Flame.” “Okay,” he said and released a long breath. I gathered my knives, my Glock and more ammo than I’d ever need and threw it all into a bag. When I stood up, Ash was looking down at the gun in his hand. Fuck, he looked so young. I walked over to him, waiting until he noticed me. “You might need to kill people today or tomorrow. You come, you fight. That’s Hangmen code.” His cheeks paled, but he replied, “I know.” I wanted to say more. But the truth was, the first kill you ever made was not something you could prep for. You do it, change forever, then get the fuck on with life and kill some more. If it happened, it happened. I loaded the van with supplies, then jumped on my bike. Flame and Vike came roaring up beside me. They each flicked their chins as Ash and Slash got in the van and pulled away. Twenty minutes later, the Hangmen rolled out of the compound as one unit. And with every mile made, I let my hatred of Meister build inside me—fuel to this fucking mission. Or massacre, I thought to myself. Because if that dick had gone anywhere near Phebe, I’d kill him worse than any of those fuckers that took my brother. I’d make him pay, strip his flesh and slice through his guts. And as I looked to my left and right, Flame and Viking by my side, I knew they’d be with me too. Meister was going down, and I was getting back my bitch. There was no other choice.
Chapter Nineteen
Phebe
I did not know how long we were in the van, but it felt like hours. Grace had cried in my arms until she fell asleep, exhausted. But I never let her go. I kept her tightly to my chest as I thought of what lay ahead. Fear. I had nothing within me but pure fear. The van came to a stop, and I tensed when I heard voices outside. The voices were low, but deep and most certainly male. I trembled when I heard the sound of feet moving to the doors of the van. Grace woke and raised her head, a confused look on her pretty face as the doors flew open. The men who had taken us reached inside and tore Grace from my arms. Grace screamed and reached out for me. I jumped out of the van, trying to get to her, but a hand wrapped around my hair and wrenched me back. “No!” I screamed, fighting to be free. “Grace!” I broke down in tears when the men led her into a building and out of my sight. I looked all around me and did not recognize the place where we were. The air was as hot and sticky as the Hangmen’s home, the sky still as clear. Fields of green were all around us. A water tank sat in the middle of several buildings, but there was nothing else for miles. “He wants her in Building Two,” one of the men said. With his hand still in my hair, I was dragged down a dirt path. I lashed out, trying to see around me for Grace, but there was nothing. Worse, I could no longer hear Grace’s screams. Just silence. Why was she being so quiet? We stopped at a building. The man holding me opened the door and threw me inside. I landed hard on the stone floor but scrambled to my feet just as the door shut behind me. I bashed my clenched fists against the wood, yelling to be out. But after minutes and minutes of trying, screaming . . . I broke down into sobs and slid down the door. What have I done? I looked around the room. There was nothing but an old table and chair in the center. Then I thought of the man’s order. He wants her in Building Two . . . He . . . Meister. On my hands and knees, I crawled into the corner of the room. I curled against the wall and tried to picture Grace. What were they doing to her? What would they do to her? Meister. He had coveted her in New Zion. And I had just delivered her to him on a silver platter. I chased back the vomit creeping up my throat. Lilah . . . she would never forgive me for this. What have you done, Phebe? The sound of the knob turning in the door made me freeze. I held still, my heart beating a frantic rhythm. I kept my eyes fixed on the door . . . then lost all strength when Meister walked though. He was just as big as I remembered. He looked at me across the room, his blue eyes meeting mine, and a wave of memories rushed to my mind. I remembered being chained to a bed . . . I remembered being kept naked, only given clothes when he claimed I had earned it. I choked on a cry when I remembered being in a bar of some sort. On Meister’s lap, riding Meister in a room full of people . . . then I turned . . . I turned and . . . . . . AK? Kind eyes.
The tree . . . . . . my AK. The soles of Meister’s black boots stepped toward me on the hard ground. My muscles trembled as he stopped before me. I heard every breath I took echoing in my ears. I felt the pulse in my neck, temple and wrists race in an unsteady beat. He bent down. I closed my eyes, yet I still felt his gaze on me. I felt the daggers his eyes threw and the tension he held in his enormous body. I flinched when a finger landed on my face. My nostrils flared as I desperately tried to control my breathing. I wanted to throw his hand from me, I wanted to lash out and hurt him. But fear held me ransom. “Where have you been, my little whore?” his deep, rough voice asked. I froze, my tears falling down my cheeks. A short laugh spilled from his lips. “But I know, don’t I, Liebchen?” His hand left my cheek and pushed into my hair. Suddenly, my head was ripped back and I felt his breath on my face. “Open your fucking eyes, slut,” he demanded. I automatically did as he said, and my gaze clashed with his. My stomach fell. He was seething. The skin on his face was red, and his muscles were strained. His teeth were bared, and veins bulged from his neck. He yanked my hair back again, and I cried out. “You were with one of them, weren’t you, whore? Fucking them, fucking their cocks like the cult cum-slut that you are.” Meister reached down and slammed his hand between my legs. I screamed, unable to hold back my reaction when he dug his fingers into my folds, ripping at the flesh. Meister’s rough, unshaven cheek rubbed against mine, burning my skin. “After everything I gave you. After saving you from dying along with all the other dumbfucks at that cult, this is how you repay me?” Shaking and fearful, I managed to open my mouth and ask, “What have you done with her?” Meister’s head drew back, and he smiled. “You mean the little eight-year-old pussy you brought me as a gift? The one I’d wanted in the cult from the minute I saw her?” His malicious smile caused my skin to shiver. “Nothing. She is safe. A girl as pretty as her, untouched and a virgin, is going to make me fucking fortune.” He pulled me closer by my hair. “That gift almost . . . almost makes up for your disobedience. You’re a good little whore-fisher, Phebe. Bringing me only the top-quality bait for my buyers. I should have you on staff. We’d make a fortune putting your skills to use.” My eyes closed, ignoring his taunts, relieved that Grace would remain unharmed for now. “Open your motherfucking eyes!” Meister snarled. He jumped to his feet, pulling me to stand. My scalp felt on fire as I struggled to escape his hold, the pain that was shooting down my spine. I was slammed against the wall, my lungs losing air at the impact. Meister’s huge body pressed against mine. He lifted my dress and, ripping my panties in two, thrust his fingers inside. I screamed. “What’s wrong?” His lips ran over my cheek, a dark contrast to his hands scraping and stabbing within my channel. “Did he not take you like this? The sniper? Xavier?” I froze, my eyes colliding with his in shock. “Xavier Charles Deyes. Plano, Texas. Scout Sniper, Marines. Sergeant-at-arms for the Hades Hangmen.” He smiled wider, then licked over my lips. “I know everything about him. I know his brother killed his wife. I know he has a nephew who’s still alive, lives with his Aunt Claire and Uncle Tom.” He nodded his head in approval. “Good-looking kid. I went to his school and made sure it was really him. Zane’s his name. He kept Deyes as his surname, even though daddy-dearest went postal and hacked up his mother on the kitchen floor.” He sighed. “I’ve got to make sure I target the right people, Phebe. This war shit ain’t no horseplay.” My eyes widened in horror. Meister looked affronted. “What? You thought I’d just let them get away with taking my girl?” He shrugged. He brought his fingers out of my channel, leaving the tips resting at the entrance. “Shame you came back so soon though. It was unexpected.” I searched his eyes. What did he mean by that? “I’d just bought three barrels of cesium. I was in the middle of making a dirty bomb, real
potent shit. I was going to watch that Hangmen compound burn to the fucking ground, a smile on my face, with all those bastards inside.” He shook his head in mock-disappointment. “All their sluts and kids too. The bastards deserve it. I did some digging on that MC. It used to be an all-white crew; they had a noblacks rule. Did shit right. But now they have a black-and-white mutt riding beside them. The Hades Hangmen, just another fucking letdown to the white race.” “You are insane,” I whispered, thankful that he did not get to go through with his plan. Lilah . . . Grace . . . AK . . . all their family. The children. Meister froze, then rolled his head my way. “Insane? No. I’m in a fucking war, a war I’m going to win.” He forced his fingers back inside me, so roughly I knew he would have drawn blood. “And you were going to be my woman. The one beside me when the Brotherhood and Klan unite and take back what is rightfully ours.” He leaned in until his mouth was at my ear. “So I had to get a replacement. I need a whore, after all. I’m fucking Meister. I needed a good little Aryan princess on my arm . . . and on my cock. Meine Liebchen.” Meister tore his hands from between my legs, and I sagged against the wall. He marched to the door and ordered something from one of his men. Meister shut the door again and rested his back against the door. He stared at me, and I never moved my eyes from him. I just watched him, wondering, fearing, what would happen next. The door opened, and someone was flung inside. I pushed off the wall when I saw the figure on the ground. It was . . . “Martha?” I said almost inaudibly, shock stealing the sound. Martha moaned in distress and pain. But she turned at the sound of my voice, and I saw her face. It was cut and bruised black and blue. Her hair was tangled and filled with dirt. But when she saw me, I knew she was no longer under the influence of the potion, because her eyes truly saw me. They recognized me. “Martha.” I stepped forward, but Martha scurried backward and shook her head, arms out. Tears were falling down her cheeks. “I am sorry.” She shook her head again, face contorting. “I had no choice.” She flicked her terrified gaze at Meister, who was still watching, amused, from the door. His arms were folded, and there was smugness in his blue stare. “Sorry for what?” I asked, dread filling my veins, drop by heavy drop. “You see, Liebchen, I could not understand why you attacked Dale that day, weeks ago. Why, when I had ordered you to stay by our shack, you disobeyed me. You had never disobeyed me before. You were always such a good little whore. Always obedient. Then I remembered you were trying to get to someone in the barn. Someone you knew. Someone you wanted to save.” He pointed at Martha. “Or at least two people. You knew this one too, I saw it in your eyes.” He paused. “But then there was the kid on the bed. My biggest draw, my most used piece of pussy. And I knew there was more to it.” I swallowed, whipping my head to Martha, who was now sobbing on the floor. “I pulled them off the cocktail that kept them under my command and decided to get some answers from them. The other one, the young, golden pussy, never cracked. Not once. Fucking strong-willed slut. But this one . . . ” Meister walked to Martha and lifted her up by her arm. “This one squealed like a fucking pig. She told me why you wanted the other slut freed so badly.” I held my breath as Martha shook her head. Her eyes were so ashamed, so filled with guilt. “No,” I whispered, my legs beginning to lose strength. “A daughter,” Meister said and smiled. A wide, cruel smile. “A fucking daughter you had at twelve years old.” His head tilted to the side. “It seems you always were a slut, Phebe. Fucking men when you were a child? No wonder you were so good on my cock. By the time I got to you, you had that shit down to perfection.” “I am sorry, sister,” Martha said, and my heart cracked for her. She was black and blue, too thin and so broken. No more than a living corpse.
I opened my mouth to tell her there was nothing to forgive, when Meister’s hands suddenly moved and snapped her neck, the loud crack of breaking bone echoing off the stone walls. Martha’s lifeless body crumpled to the ground. I screamed seeing my friend’s eyes forever staring at me, her neck disjointed. I screamed and screamed as Meister moved to the door and opened it. A guard entered, dragging another person with him. And then the everything seemed to stop—my thoughts, my heart, the breath in my lungs—as Sapphira was thrust before me. “No!” I shouted and Sapphira’s head lifted up to face me. Her brown eyes filled with tears, and her hands covered her mouth. “Phebe?” she said through her cut and swollen lips. I watched her face twist in sadness, and she tried to run toward me. Meister pulled her back against his body, and I snapped. Pushing my feet forward, I charged at Meister. I needed to get him away from my girl. But before I could, a blow came to my stomach and my knees hit the ground. I was wrenched up by the guard, who held on to my arms, keeping me back. “Sapphira!” I shouted, watching her eyes grow large with fear. “Phebe!” she called back. Meister sliced his hand across her face. Her head lolled to the side, dazed, and Meister took hold of her cheeks, forcing her to face me. I cried, choking on anger at seeing my daughter in this monster’s arms. Meister could see it in my expression, I knew. He smiled coldly. His hand moved down to her breasts, and he squeezed the flesh. Sapphira cried in his arms, but he had no sympathy for her. I tried to move, to get to her, but I was bound by the guard’s incredible strength. Sapphira looked down and saw Martha’s dead body. She struggled to be free, fear taking her over, her screams loud and shrill. Meister held her still. “I told you I needed a replacement when you left,” Meister said again, and I blanched. He stroked Sapphira’s cheek. “When I found out who she was, I knew it had to be her.” His hand ran down her torso, until it reached her core. I moaned in anguish as he touched her between her legs. Her brown eyes fixed on mine—begging, crying for help. “And her pussy is tighter. So fucking tight.” He shrugged, groaning as though that fact brought him pleasure. “I’m guessing that’s due to her age. Fourteen.” He shook his head. “So fucking good to own. To lick. To taste. Perfect teenage pussy.” I whimpered, unable to bear him speaking of my daughter in such a way. With his eyes on me, he said, “And she fucking loves it . . . watch.” Meister put his hand on the back of Sapphira’s neck and pushed her forward. Her feet stumbled as she tried to keep upright. Meister bent her over the table in the center of the room and kicked up her soiled dress. I lost control. Every fiber of my being flared to life at the thought of Sapphira on that table, being forced. And when she looked up at me, her eyes helpless yet resigned to her fate, I could not do anything else. I kicked. I kicked and I scratched the guard holding me, frantic and completely wild. “Fuck!” the guard cried when I managed to hit between his legs. His arms fell from me, and I charged forward. I ran at Meister, full force, and pushed on his chest. He only stumbled back a fraction. But it was enough for Sapphira to get free, to back away. And I swung. Fists formed, I lashed out at his face. I struck and I struck, until Meister’s patience broke and he struck me across the face. I fell at the blow, fell until my back hit the table. But he kept coming, face raging, his strikes hitting every target—my face, my stomach, my chest. “Phebe!” I heard Sapphira call, crying behind me. But all I could think was that she was safe now. I had saved her from him. Meister yanked me closer to him. His blue eyes were on fire. “You want a fuck that bad, slut?” he asked through gritted teeth, spitting on my face. I did not answer, but instead let him spin me around and slam my chest down onto the table. The wind was knocked out from me, but when I looked up, I saw the guard that had previously held me holding my
daughter instead. And she was breaking her heart, crying. She watched, she looked into my eyes as Meister lifted my dress and rammed himself inside me. Still sore from his fingernails cutting my insides, his fingers taking me so harshly, and my face still throbbing from his blows, I kept my expression calm. I smiled weakly, trying to tell her I was okay. I smiled at Sapphira and kept her gaze. If she held my eyes with her own, she would not see Meister plowing into me so roughly. She would not see me wanting to scream out in agony at the pain. He took and he took, but all I could think was that I was glad it was me and not Sapphira. I could not have seen that . . . it would have killed me. Meister grunted and bellowed behind me until I felt his hips jerking. Until I heard him shout through his release. I felt his seed spurt inside me and breathed, knowing that it was over. Meister leaned over me, and with his mouth at my ear said, “Tomorrow you will both be out of my life and going to hell. Then I’ll go after everyone you love. Your sister at the Hangmen and that prick you’ve been screwing. Each will die. Slowly. And they’ll die knowing you condemned them. Damned them.” Meister signaled for the guard to release Sapphira. She stood on the spot, not knowing what to do. I heard the men’s footsteps move toward the exit and the door close behind them. When I looked to check they were gone, my legs collapsed and I fell to the ground. I tried to lift my body, but I could not. “Phebe!” Sapphira’s soft voice sounded like the welcome of heaven to my ears. “Phebe,” she said again. Tears flooded her face as she looked down at me. When I traced her gaze, I saw the blood coming from between my legs, staining my upper thighs. “It is okay,” I said, and almost broke when she came to my side and knelt beside me. I drank in her beautiful features. And I let my tears loose when I saw that freckle I had always loved to the side of her left eye. “You are hurt.” She tentatively reached out her hand, unsure where she could touch me. But I wanted to feel the touch of her hand so much. I reached out and took it, bringing it to my face. “Why?” she said and cried harder, her walls tumbling down. “Why did you do that? He . . . he has hurt you so badly.” “I could not let him hurt you anymore.” I tried to move my legs. Sapphira put her arms under mine and helped me move to lean against the nearest wall. She was so skinny, so weak, yet she carried me . . . my baby. She sat down beside me. I took her hand, and I saw her newborn hand in the center of my palm fourteen years ago. Then her four-year-old hand in mine as we ran around the fields on one of my visits. Her shaking hand in mine when she had received her first touch from a man. All of it my daughter . . . my beautiful daughter. “You are mine,” I said, unable to hold back the words any longer. “You are my miracle, my little girl.” My voice was cut and broken, but I felt Sapphira tense beside me. When I looked at her confused face, I smiled, even through the gutting pain. Because she was here beside me. She was here, when I thought she had been lost. There was no more pain now that I had her hand in mine once more. Her eyes were wide as she listened to me confess my biggest secret. As I watched her, I felt such love for her, so much it was indescribable. “You are mine,” I told her again, never breaking her gaze. “Mine.” I kissed the back of her hand and tried not to break down at the sight of her cut and bruised face. “I . . . I do not understand,” she said. Her hand trembled in mine. I held on to her tighter. “I gave birth to you when I was twelve.” Sapphira sucked in a shocked breath. I felt her pulse race on her wrist and saw her eyes shimmer. She blinked, her long lashes like feathered fans as she tried to comprehend everything I said. I cleared my throat, tears streaming down my cheeks. “They took you from me. They took you from me against my will and would not let me have you.” I leaned in and kissed her forehead. “But I fought to see you. I did everything I could
to see you.” “You . . .” she whispered. “You are my sister. You told me you were my sister . . .” “I had no choice. They would not let me tell you the truth. They did not want us to become too attached.” I laughed without mirth. “It did not work. From the minute you were born, you were my entire soul.” Sapphira’s bottom lip quivered as she stared at me. She searched my face as if seeing me as someone new. “I wanted you too,” she said softly and inched closer to me. “I would ask for you all the time, but they said you would not come to me unless I did as they ordered. I . . . I wanted you. My sister Phebe.” “You did?” I asked in disbelief. She smiled slightly. “My favorite moments were when you came. I would count the days in between wondering where you were.” She dropped her eyes then, looking up at me nervously, said, “I . . . I always wanted a mother.” Her words shattered my heart. My eyes drifted to a close. “Phebe?” she said urgently, and I smiled. I smiled through the pain and the tears. “I always wanted you too.” I opened my eyes and saw Sapphira staring at me with nothing but love in her gaze. Then she looked at Martha’s body on the floor and sadness quickly overcame her. She broke. My daughter broke, and for once in my life, I was here to offer comfort . . . I was here for her . . . I took her in my arms, pulling her into my chest. And she came. She took the solace I offered and caused my heart to soar. I rocked her back and forth, kissing the hair on her head. I held her in my arms, and even in this hell, I could have been fooled into believing I was beside a river in heaven, peaceful and content. Sapphira cried. I cried as I held her. “Shh,” I soothed and heard her stuttered breaths. She fell apart in my arms for minutes and minutes, until her breathing calmed and she slowly came back together. Taking advantage of the silence, I said, “I did not know you were here.” Sapphira stiffened. “The prophet, or who we all believed to be the prophet, told me he had saved you.” I winced. “I thought you were safe.” “I was given to Meister,” she said, and I felt the guilt take root. “I . . . I do not remember much of that until . . . until a few weeks back when he brought me around.” She hiccupped. “He wanted me . . . he used me as his. Wanted me as his white princess, he said.” Her words sent a stab of pain into my stomach. Sapphira lifted her head. “I cannot believe this.” Blushing, eyes timid, she ran her finger over my forehead, down my cheek and over my lips. “My mother,” she said and the sound of that name from her lips punctured my heart. “You are my mother . . .” She laughed a single laugh, then her forehead creased and she began to weep. “And you saved me from him,” she said. “You took my place. And he . . . he . . .” “Always,” I promised and laid her head upon my shoulder. “Why is life like this?” she asked softly. She looked up at me, and I met her gaze. “This . . . painful. This sad.” Uncontained sadness burrowed inside of me at the life she had. That she had lived. “It is not,” I said and watched the surprise blossom on her cheeks. “Out there, there is happiness to be found.” “Truly?” she asked. “I have seen it. I . . . for a short, precious time, I lived it.” Her eyebrows rose. “And what is it like?” “Beautiful, if you only let in the light. If you chase the sunrise.” I smiled to myself. “There is a man out there who made me believe in something I thought was forever lost.” “What?” “Love.” I glanced down at my daughter. “I have loved you. I have loved you, yearned for you, yet have been wounded every step of the way. I have a sister—you have an aunt. Lilah. And I watched her be hurt too many times to count. And you have a cousin, Grace, who you would simply adore.” “I do?” she said in shock.
I nodded. “Then there is AK. The man who showed me what good truly means. Showed me love without condition. A man I left as I could cause him no more pain. He has suffered too much in this life too.” Then my heart fell. “But Meister has Grace. She is here . . . somewhere.” Sapphira’s eyes closed. “What . . . what will happen to us? What will become of us all?” I held her tighter as she rested on my shoulder once more. “I do not know,” I said honestly. “But I will fight for us. For you and Grace. I will . . .” I kissed her, stroked my hand through her blond hair. “I will fight for my daughter.” Sapphira’s breathing steadied into a soft rhythm, and without seeing her face I knew she had smiled. “Daughter,” she murmured and wrapped her arms around my waist. “Mother . . . I like the sound of that.” As she fell asleep against me, cradled in my arms, I realized that wishes and hopes could come true. I had rocked her to sleep when it mattered most. And although I did not know what Meister planned, I would never let her down again. In this dark moment, I cherished every second of this time. This silent time with my daughter back in my arms. As a baby, her heart had beat next to mine. And in my warm embrace, it beat once again, making me whole. After all these years of struggle, I had my baby back with me. Asleep, comforted by my touch. And I would die to keep her safe.
*****
“Where are we going?” I gripped Sapphira’s hand. The guard did not speak as he dragged us from the room in which we had slept. He forced us into the bright morning light and toward a waiting van. Three larger vans were beside it. Meister stood, waiting. He watched as the door was opened and we were thrown inside. “Aunt Phebe!” a familiar voice shouted as I hit the floor of the truck. Sapphira came in beside me and I pulled her to my side. Grace was tucked into the corner of the van, looking fearful. “Grace,” I said in relief and she scurried into my arms. “Aunt Phebe . . . I am scared,” she cried and tucked her head into the crook of my arm. I shook my head, tears springing from my eyes as I tried to think of what to do. But I had no answers. Gentle fingers wiped away the droplets from my cheeks. I turned to see Sapphira giving me a watery smile. More pain than I had ever felt in my life rushed through me when I realized that all of this—this pain and suffering, this rough treatment by men—was nothing new to Sapphira. It was all she had ever known. Grace’s head lifted and looked across at Sapphira. I hugged Grace tighter. “Grace, this is Sapphira . . .” I inhaled deeply and said, “My . . . my daughter.” I heard Sapphira’s breath hitch, knew she felt the strangeness those words conjured as much as I did. But they felt right, and when I nervously met Sapphira’s eyes, I saw a sense of peace settle within them. “Your daughter?” Grace sniffed. “Yes.” Sapphira ran her hand over Grace’s head. “Nice to meet you, Grace,” she said shyly. “You too,” Grace replied. I had little time to enjoy the moment. The doors were slammed shut, and we were plunged into darkness. So I held on to my niece and my daughter, my hands clasped tightly in theirs. And as we rolled away, I prayed to whoever was listening that I could somehow get us out of this alive. We deserved our chance at happiness.
Chapter Twenty
AK
Secluded farm, La Cruz, Mexico
My stomach was flat to the roof as I waited, the sun coming over the horizon. It beat on my back, taking me back to Iraq. I breathed steadily, eyes scanning the abandoned farmhouse. We had been here for two hours now, flanked by the cover of darkness. I checked the other positions: Hush and Cowboy at the north, Tank, Tanner and Bull at the south. Flame and Viking were to the west, and beside me were Styx, Smiler and Ky. Ash and Slash were in the dilapidated barn we were using as a hideout, with the truck and the bikes. Rider had been given a gun and told to guard the truck. Fucker could be handy in a fight. The meeting with Diablos had gone surprisingly smoothly. “We need passage to Mexico,” Ky had told Chavez, the Diablos’ prez. Like Styx, he had inherited the title when Styx had killed his father in the Mexican war, straight after Chavez’s dad had put a bullet in Styx’s dad’s skull. There was no love lost between the two sons, both in their twenties and of similar build and savageness. But with a “You owe us, and when the time comes, I’ll be cashing that shit in,” from Chavez, the deal was done, and we’d crossed the border, no questions asked, no detection from the cartel, border patrol, or even better, Meister and this Garcia. “Heads up,” Ky said from beside me as kick-up from the dirt road mushroomed in the distance. I whistled, telling all our brothers shit was about to go down. I focused through my scope and watched as a single Escalade approached. I tightened my hold and set to strike. The farmhouse was silent as the Escalade came to a stop. It was bulletproof, armored. Expensive as shit. Fuckers clearly expected trouble on a daily basis. And they had money. A lot of it. I breathed deeply, watching, blocking everything out, as the door opened. A muscled Mexican stepped out of the driver’s side, rifle in his hand. He scanned the area, but clearly, having been here many times before, expected no trouble. Exactly what we fucking banked on. He opened the back door, and a slick-looking motherfucker stepped out onto the dirt. He was tall and toned with jet-black hair. The boss. Garcia. I heard Ky growl. Styx put his hand on his shoulder. I glanced to my left. Ky’s face was more livid than I’d ever seen in all the years I’d known him. Styx didn’t look too different, but that fucker knew when to be patient and when to kill. They knew this asshole. Clearly. And by their reaction, this fucker wasn’t easy meat. But there was no time to find out more. Three more men got out of the back seats. More muscle. But that was it. Five in total. The buyers. Traffickers. Minutes passed while they all talked and laughed. Like being about to trade my fucking woman was nothing to their prick lives. I wanted to pull the trigger so bad. I wanted to blow a hole in each of their skulls, but there was still no sign of Phebe. No sign of— The sound of oncoming trucks came from the dirt road. I turned, silently, and through my scope saw four
vans: three large ones and one small one. My heart started firing, but I held my cool. I felt the tension coming from Ky beside me. I checked the brothers were ready. They were braced, guns at the ready. Two minutes later, the trucks stopped, and Meister jumped out of the cabin of the smaller van. The drivers of the main three vans remained in their seats. The smaller van kept my attention. If the cult whores were in those vans, what the fuck was in the smaller one? Meister and Garcia shook hands, and I wanted to laugh. The king of the Aryan Brotherhood doing business with a Mexican. Hypocritical fuck. They talked, and we waited. Then a loud shout came from the back of the smaller van. The hair on the back of my neck pricked up when I recognized that fucking voice. Phebe. And she didn’t stop. Her hands smashed on the doors so loud that Meister’s back stiffened in annoyance and he marched to the back. He threw the doors open, and through my scope I saw three figures: Phebe, a blonde and . . . Grace. I held out my hand and hit Ky’s arm. I pointed to the van, signaling she was there. Then Meister was pulling Phebe from the back. No sooner had her feet hit the dirt than he sliced his hand across her face. Her head snapped back, and when I looked up close, I saw that she was beaten . . . and my blood boiled when I saw the dried blood on her dress. He’d touched her . . . that fucker had touched her. I breathed through my nose, forcing myself to calm. Meister dragged the other two figures out. A blonde came out first, and I knew. I just fucking knew who it was. Phebe, lashing out at the guard who had come to join Meister, was screaming, fighting to get to her. Sapphira. He threw Sapphira to the ground, her thin body crumpling to the dirt. She stayed down, too scared to get up. Meister pulled Grace out, but the fucker wasn’t rough with her. Instead, he held her hand and took her to Garcia. Garcia smiled and crouched down. His hand pushed Grace’s hair from her face, and I heard Ky losing it beside me—a low growl of seething anger, followed by, “That asshole’s gonna fucking die.” That was all the fucking warning I got before all hell broke loose. Ky fired a shot straight at Garcia. But just as the bullet left his barrel, Garcia’s guard moved in front of him, taking the shot. The side of the big fucker’s head blew off and he fell to the ground, and the place exploded into chaos. “Fuck!” Ky hissed. Guns fired in all directions. Ky and Styx rushed down the stairs of the building, plowing into the fray. I aimed and fired at another Mexican guard. He fell as I hit my target. Garcia jumped into the back of the Escalade and shut the door. The bullets pinged off the metal, not getting through. Grace screamed, covering her ears at the sounds. Ky dove for his daughter, but as he did, Meister grabbed hold of her and wrenched her to his chest. He took out his gun and held it to Grace’s head. Ky stopped dead, as did Styx. Heart pounding, I lined up my shot, placing the bullseye at Meister’s head. Calm. Breathe. Focus. But before I could pull the trigger, a shot fired from behind him. The bullet came smashing through his skull, brain and bone hitting the air. My head snapped up as Meister’s huge body fell forward, dead, blue eyes forever open, landing on top of Grace. Ky had flipped him off her in seconds, picked up his daughter and run back in the direction of the barn. I turned my head, looking to see who had shot the prick. Phebe stood with a rifle in her hand, hands fucking shaking and cheeks paling. She’d fucking hit him.
Direct hit on Meister. Sapphira was still on the ground, hiding her head with her hands. Two more men came running at Phebe. I took one out, then the other, not letting a single one get near her. I had just lined up my next shot, some AB driver who had jumped out of the van, when a gunshot went off behind me. In seconds I rolled onto my back, ready to strike whoever was there, and the body of a Klansman slammed to the roof beside me. I looked up to see who had taken the fucker out. It was Lil’ Ash. His gun was held out, nostrils flared as he stared down at the now-dead skinhead. “Ash,” I said. His black eyes were wide with shock, but he managed to look at me. “I saw him come up the stairs. I had to follow.” “Ash—” I heard the sound of tires screeching from the road. I rolled back onto my front and saw all three of the vans pulling out onto the dirt road, abandoning the Klansmen who were still fighting my brothers. Flame was hacking some cunt up with his knives; Viking was shooting at any fucker that moved. And then I saw him. Saw some Klansman get off the ground, bleeding from a gunshot wound in his shoulder. Phebe was looking around in a daze, hands bloodied, face pale, lost, trying to find Sapphira. She’d gone. Where the fuck had she gone? Then I saw, almost in slow motion, as the Klansman pointed his gun at Phebe. I scrambled for my rifle, determined to end this fucker. And I shot, sending a bullet through his heart. But he’d already fired his gun before he hit the ground. I watched helplessly. I watched as Sapphira came running from behind the cover of a van and pushed Phebe out of the way. And I watched as the bullet sailed straight through her stomach. Her brown eyes were wide, turning to Phebe as she fell to the ground. I ran. I fucking ran the minute Phebe lifted her head and saw Sapphira on the ground. I was there in seconds, taking out the final few fuckers that got in my way. I followed the sounds of Phebe’s frantic cries and ran to where she sat, screaming and crying with Sapphira in her arms. Blood mushroomed across Sapphira’s white dress, fucking bright-red blood coming from her stomach. “No!” Phebe screamed as the shooting came to a stop. The vans had gone; the Escalade had escaped too. Garcia had got away. “Rider!” I shouted and dropped down beside Phebe. She was a fucking mess, beaten, bruised and clearly raped, but her blue eyes were wild, fucking cut, when she met my gaze. “Sapphira!” she cried harder, almost unable to breathe. I thought I’d seen pain before. I thought I’d seen the fucking terror of loss. But in that moment I realized I hadn’t seen shit. Phebe, my fucking Red, was dying along with her daughter. Fucking heart broken and bleeding out. Rider came sprinting to Phebe. Our van came seconds later, Slash at the wheel. Grace was in the front of the cabin, her little hands on the glass, trying to see Phebe and Sapphira. “I need her in the back,” Rider said. I picked Sapphira up in my arms. Phebe reached forward, trying to get her back from me, fucking losing it more, second by second. “Get in the van, Red,” I ordered, trying to be quick. Phebe stumbled to her feet. I laid Sapphira on the floor, and Rider got to work. He split her dress, and I watched as he rubbed his hand down his face, seeing the wound. It was bad. It was fucking bad. I could tell by his reaction. “We need to go, now,” he said and got the fuck to work. I lifted Phebe in beside Sapphira. She fell to her knees at her daughter’s side. She held her hand and rocked back and forth. Phebe was already emotionally too far gone. Red was fucking mentally tapping out.
I turned and saw my brothers getting back on their bikes. Then I saw Ash, standing on his own, staring at his fucking hands. I sprinted over to him. “Ash,” I said, and he looked up. The kid hadn’t even seen the commotion, too fucking busy freaking out about his kill. “You good?” He numbly nodded his head. “I need you to ride my bike back to Austin.” Ash nodded again. “Ash?” I pushed, and Flame appeared behind him. Ash looked at his older brother and swallowed. Flame’s hand clenched at his side, then clenched again. “I got him,” he said, then awkwardly as fuck, put his hand on Ash’s shoulder and squeezed. I saw the fucking tears build in Ash’s eyes at the fact Flame was touching him. At the fact he’d killed. Flame was fucking touching him. I gave my keys to Flame, then turned and ran back to the van. I slammed the doors shut and sat beside Phebe. I pulled my bitch into my arms as Rider worked on Sapphira. As we moved out, Phebe looked up at me, her lifeless daughter on the floor before her, and I didn’t like what I fucking saw in her eyes. She was dead. Her eyes were fucking dead. The tears had stopped, she was numb, but her hand held tight to her daughter’s. So I held on to her. I just fucking held on.
*****
Phebe
“No,” a voice screamed from beside me. I blinked and then heard two shots. I turned, and Sapphira jerked before me. I was confused. I did not know what had happened . . . until she fell . . . she fell to the ground. I dropped beside her, then I saw it. Saw the blood pouring from her stomach. Saw her brown eyes watching me, silently begging me to save her. “Sapphira.” Her eyes began to close. Panic gripped me as I the blood kept coming. I pulled her into my arms, trying to wake her up. “Sapphira!” I screamed, realizing she would not wake. I brought my hands to her face. She was getting cold . . . she was getting cold . . . AK was carrying me out of the van, but I would not let go of Sapphira’s hand. I could not. She needed me. “I am her mother,” I said as we entered the clubhouse. But my hand fell from hers when AK pulled it away. “I am her mother,” I repeated numbly. “She needs to go, Red. Rider needs to get the fucking bullet from her stomach.” Cain and some of the men took her into a room. I let AK lead me to the room to wait at the doorway. But as I watched her hand fall to the side of the bed, her life draining from her veins, as I watched her face grow paler, and as I watched Cain try . . . try but fail to save my girl, I knew it was too late. She was gone. I felt it within me. She had gone. My daughter . . . she had died. I did not save her. When the time came, I had failed . . . I tried, but like everything else, I could not save her . . . when it mattered most . . . . . . I failed. I was going to lose her when I had just gotten her back. When she had just called me “Mother”. When we had our chance at a better life. My feet backed away. And away again. “AK, I need your help,” Cain said from beside Sapphira. AK brushed past me. But I kept backing away. I saw AK taking a bag and pushing a needle into her arm. The potion. They were giving her potion. She was never coming back. They needed the potion to take the pain away, because her pain would never go. She was never coming back to me. To be in my arms. To be in my heart. I came to a door, and needing to be alone, needing to be away from the blood and the pain and the
evidence of my failure pushed it open. I staggered into the room, using the countertop as a guide. I did not know where to go. I did not know what to do. I needed this pain in my heart to go away. I needed the image of Sapphira, bleeding in my arms, to go away. My hand knocked something over. I looked down. I had spilled a bottle of pills. Pills. I knew pills took the pain away. I cleared the fog from my eyes and looked around. A bottle of alcohol was on the opposite countertop. That took away the pain too. Taking the bottle, trying to see through the tears, I pulled off the cap and grabbed a handful of the pills. I swallowed one, then took a drink. I did it again. I did it again and again until the pain began to fade. I did it again and again until my eyes closed and I woke up in a familiar forest. I wiped my eyes as I drank in the beauty of the bright green trees. The grass was soft under my bare feet. My arms were clean of bruises and . . . there was no pain. “Mama?” I closed my eyes at the idyllic sound of a softly spoken voice. Mama. “Mama, you are here.” There was no pain in her voice, no fear. There was just . . . happiness. Opening my eyes, I looked toward the river. Sapphira was sitting on the grass. She was dressed in white, her long blond hair falling to her back in soft waves. And she was smiling. “Sapphira,” I said and ran to where she sat. I dropped down beside her and took her in my arms. She fit so perfectly, like it always should have been. “Are you at peace now?” I kissed her forehead. “I am now you are here,” she said and placed her head on my lap. She sighed as I stared at the glistening water of the river. “Can we stay here, Mama?” She looked up at me with her beautiful brown gaze. I leaned down and kissed the freckle on the side of her eye that I adored. “We can stay,” I said, knowing we would be happy here. “Good.” She drifted off to sleep. And I smiled again. Because all was good. At last.
Chapter Twenty-One
AK
“You think she’s gonna get through this?” I asked Rider quietly, so Phebe wouldn’t hear me. Rider dropped the bullet into a tin beside him and looked up. Had to give it to the ex-prophet, fucker had gotten his head down and dealt with this shit without complaint. Turned out he took down a few Klansmen in the process too. We hadn’t seen another truck come up late in the shootout. Rider took out the driver and another before one got away. The one Ash took out before he could kill me. He nodded. “Stopped the bleeding early enough. She needs more blood, waiting on her type, but she should be okay. Bullet hit to the left of her stomach—no vital organs were touched. Luckily. She should be okay.” Relief ran through me. I rocked on my feet as he began stitching her up. “Thanks,” I mumbled. Rider’s head snapped up in surprise. I reluctantly met his eyes, and he nodded his head. “After what Phebe has done for me, for Bella, and after finding out Judah did all . . . this.” He looked at Sapphira and gritted his teeth. He’d been told the whole story of his brother’s trafficking side dealings. Fucker took it hard. Most of the shit had been going on for months, all behind his back while he was still prophet. I actually felt something close to sympathy for the asshole. I turned to look at Phebe at the back of the room. She wasn’t there. “Phebe?” I walked closer to the door. I stuck my head out into the hallway. “Phebe?” I tried again. I ran to the bar, wondering where the fuck she was. Vike was sitting at the bar. “Have you seen Phebe?” I asked. “She ain’t been in here,” he said. I ran out into the hallway again and started checking the brothers’ club rooms. Most of the brothers were sleeping or gone the fuck home. I burst out of the doors and into the evening air. Hush and Cowboy sat in the yard, drinking and smoking. “You all right, mon frère?” “Phebe?” I repeated her name again, starting to really fucking panic. “Not come out this way,” Hush answered. “Been here since we got back.” I tried to think. Tried to imagine where the fuck she could have gone. I darted back into the clubhouse and just started checking doors, one after the other—storage, armory, fucking bathrooms. Then I got to the door that led to a break room behind the bar, where whoever was working could catch a smoke or drink. I slammed through and froze in my tracks. An overturned bottle of Tylenol was on the counter. There were only a couple of pills left. My pulse raced. Then my motherfucking heart dropped when I saw a pair of feet sticking out from around the corner. Pale, dirty and covered in dried blood. “Phebe!” I turned the corner. “No,” I said. I dropped to my knees. “Phebe.” I picked her lifeless body up in my arms. Her head flopped back, and a stab of pain sliced through my stomach. “No!” I looked to her left. An empty bottle of Jack lay beside her, one that I knew would have been full or nearly full when she’d picked it up. I pulled her closer to my chest and looked at her face. She was still covered in blood, still fucking broken and bruised, and I couldn’t fucking take it. Not again. Not another fucking one. “Phebe!” I shouted, and heard someone come in behind me. I turned, not giving a fuck about the tears running down my face as I held her lifeless body in my arms. “She’s hardly got a fucking pulse,” I said to
Vike. “What was it?” He got on his knees beside me. “Pills and Jack.” “Get her up,” he said. Too many past memories came crashing to my head. Dev, Tina . . . and now Phebe. I couldn’t, I couldn’t . . . “I can’t lose her too.” Vike’s blue eyes met mine. “You ain’t going to, brother. I swear. Just get her chest up.” Vike’s hand slapped across my cheek. “She needs you, ’K. You know how this goes. You know this shit. She needs to puke that shit back up.” He took hold of my cheeks in his hands. “She’s still fucking alive. This ain’t Dev. She can be saved.” This ain’t Dev. His words broke something in me, and I got my shit together. Flipping Phebe to her front, unable to watch for any injuries, I pushed my fingers into her mouth and waited until she gagged. I didn’t run for a fucking bucket, and I had to force myself not to look down at the blood between her thighs or else I’d fucking fall apart. Then a moan came from Phebe’s throat, the fucking small noise sounding like goddamn heaven. “Come on,” I urged and pushed my fingers down further. A choking sound came from her mouth, and then she puked. I kept going, Phebe’s cocktail of Tylenol and Jack spilling all over the floor. “Get Rider,” I said to Vike. I leaned down and saw her eyes. They were rolling, fighting consciousness. “You’re not fucking dying on me, Red,” I said. Phebe’s eyes opened a fraction. “I ain’t letting you go.” I said just as Rider came into the room. “OD’d,” I said. “Think she’s got what she can up.” “Get her into one of the rooms,” Rider said without missing a beat. “Mine,” Vike said. I picked her up in my arms, watching as she fought for consciousness. I laid her on Vike’s bed. Rider came in seconds later. He pushed a needle straight into her arm and got her hooked up to an IV. “We might need to pump her stomach,” Rider said. He checked the pulse in her wrist then the one in her arm. “Her pulse is strengthening.” He looked at me. “Was there anything left in her stomach?” “Nothing.” I pushed her soiled hair out of her face, fighting not to break again. “She needs a bath.” I closed my eyes and swallowed against the fucking lump in my throat. Then I looked down between her legs. Her dress still covered her, but the blood was there. “He fucking raped her.” My voice cracked. I was losing the battle with my fucking tears. “Look at the fucking state of her.” I looked at Vike. “How much can one person fucking take?” My hand hovered over her swollen lips and cut face. She was so fucking beautiful. And she wasn’t fucking dying on me. “We can’t take her to the hospital like this. Either her or Sapphira. The cops would be on our asses in seconds,” Vike said to Rider. “You gotta fix them up here. You need anything, me and Flame will get it for you.” “Okay,” Rider said. I held Phebe as Rider checked her stats. A long sigh came from his mouth. “She’s getting back to normal. Her blood pressure is climbing again, and her pulse is getting steady.” He got off the bed. “Keep her here overnight so I can check on her while I watch Sapphira too.” “Okay.” I looked down at my bitch. Fuck, she had just got her daughter back and she did this . . . and then it dawned on me. “She thought she’d lost her,” I said, watching Phebe’s sleeping face to make sure she was still breathing. “She thought Sapphira had died. Died saving her . . . her mother, when all she ever wanted to do was save her.” No one said shit to me in response. But I wasn’t really talking to them anyhow. I kissed Phebe’s forehead, feeling the warmth filling her skin under my lips. “Wake the fuck up, Red. I . . . I kinda fucking need you.” I shut my eyes and pulled her closer. Didn’t know when Vike left, but the next time I looked up,
the saline was hanging from a metal stand. I laid Phebe down on the bed and lay down beside her. I took her hand in mine and watched her breathe. And I stayed awake all night, making sure she was breathing. If she was breathing, she could come back to me. So I fucking watched her breathe.
*****
The brothers watched me from the bar as I carried her outside. Flame and Vike were at the truck, waiting. Ash was there too. “You good, kid?” I watched as he manned the fuck up and nodded. He wasn’t. I knew it. I remembered my first kill. Dev had given me a whiskey and told me it’d get easier from that day on. And it had. I sat in the back with Phebe as Vike drove us home. The minute I got in my cabin, I took her straight to the shower, turned it on and stripped her of her clothes. Her eyes flickered open, searching for me. “Gonna wash this shit off you, Red.” I placed her down as I shucked off my clothes too. I took her under the spray and washed her down. She moaned in my arms when the water hit a bruise, and I had to clench my jaw when I got between her legs. Vike had paid some lady doctor to check her and Sapphira. She’d said that Meister fucker had scratched her and hurt Phebe’s cunt. Weren’t anything lasting, would just hurt for now. Sapphira had been raped too, over and over again over months—which we knew. She gave them shots and tested them for every fucking disease under the sun. Every one came back negative. Thank fuck. So I washed her. I cleaned her until she was my Phebe again. Red hair bright and skin like fucking snow. And those freckles. Those motherfucking freckles. I dried her and took her to the bedroom. Our bedroom, because this time she was going nowhere. Not a fucking chance. I climbed into bed beside her and held my goddamn breath as she turned to me and smiled as much as she could through her cracked lips. “You are here too?” she whispered. “My two great loves with me, happy and at peace.” Her eyes closed and she sighed. “I could not have dreamed I would be so lucky.” My eyebrows pulled down, wondering what the fuck she meant. “I will introduce you to her, AK. You will love her.” She laughed lightly. “And she will love you. Because you are so easily loved . . .” She slipped back into sleep, and I laid my head down beside her. I closed my eyes, keeping her hand in mine so she couldn’t get away again. And the wait began. The wait for her to return to me. So we could start again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Flame
I left Vike’s place and walked to my cabin. I opened the door and saw Ash sitting on the couch, staring at the unlit fire. He didn’t even look up when I shut the door. His face was pale and his hands were clasped together on his lap. I heard Maddie in the kitchen. I walked past Ash, but he still didn’t look up. When I got to the kitchen, Maddie turned. Her face was strange. She was worried. She held her hands out. I took them with mine and pulled her into my chest. Maddie’s arms wrapped around my waist. I inhaled her scent and closed my eyes. “How is Phebe?” “At AK’s,” I said. “But she hasn’t woken up yet.” “And Sapphira?” “Alive.” Maddie stepped back and put her hand on her forehead. “What a mess. Everything is a mess. Grace is okay. She is shaken and scared, but Lilah and Ky are with her.” Maddie’s eyes shimmered. “She was so young to have that happen to her. And Sapphira.” My bitch took a took breath. “I . . . I know what her life was like. Being forced into that kind of servitude.” “Maddie,” I growled, unable to stop the fucking burning in my veins at the thought. But her eyes went to Ash on the couch. “He is young too.” She looked back to me. “I do not know what has happened. He would not say.” “He killed someone today. He saved AK’s life.” Maddie’s lips parted in shock. Her face paled, and she looked at Ash again. “No wonder he is so lost.” She wiped a tear from her eye then faced me again. She took my hand. “You must speak to him.” I felt ice fill my chest. “I don’t know what the fuck to say.” Maddie stepped closer until she was up against my body. Her hand came onto my chest. “Flame, you have been there. You have lived this life. Which means you have been in this position.” She paused. “What happened to you? How did you cope with it?” “AK,” I said, thinking back to my first kill. It was a Diablo. We had been on a run when we were attacked. I stabbed the fucker right in the heart. I stabbed him and watched him die. “AK sat me down, gave me a whiskey and told me I would never feel that way again. Feel bad at taking life. That it would get easier.” “And did it work?” “I didn’t feel bad in the first place,” I said and watched Maddie freeze, then nod her head. “I liked it. It made the flames in my blood not burn so bright.” Maddie reached up and brought my head down to hers. She kissed my mouth. Then she took my hand. “But Asher is not like you, Flame. I can see from here that he feels this moment heavily in his heart. I think he is in shock. He keeps staring at his hands.” Maddie kissed my fingers. Bumps broke out on my skin. “He needs you, Flame. He needs his brother.” My heart started beating too fast. “I don’t know what to say. I’m shit with this stuff. I’ll just wait until Phebe is better and AK is back. He’ll talk to him.” “He does not want AK,” Maddie said and put my hand over her heart. “He wants you. He only ever wants you.” Maddie smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It was sad. I didn’t like her being sad. “Asher
came straight here, Flame. About an hour ago, when you were still at the clubhouse. Here, Flame. Not Viking’s. He did not pine for AK. He came to our home. For you. His brother.” A tear ran down Maddie’s cheek. “He came where he felt safe. You made him feel safe.” I wiped the tear from her eye and felt my stomach tighten. I held out my hand. “I put my hand on his shoulder.” Maddie gasped. “When?” “Afterwards. He was being weird. I put my hand on his shoulder, then I rode next to him all the way home.” Maddie’s bottom lip shook. “You protected him. Looked after him.” “Did I?” I furrowed my brow. “I made sure he got home. Made sure he rode AK’s bike straight. His hands were shaking bad.” Maddie smiled as she cried. And this one was a good smile. “He needs you, Flame.” Maddie hugged me again, and I kissed the top of her head. “You see this?” she asked. “This embrace?” I held her close, confused. “Yeah.” “Asher may need one too.” I fucking froze, every muscle in my body tight. “I can’t.” “You can,” she said, then looked up. I looked down into her green eyes. “Like me, he loves you. And you love him. He is safe for you. He may need to know that he is loved right now. A hug will give him comfort.” “Maddie . . .” Maddie pulled back and walked to a cupboard. She took out two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. She poured two glasses—just like AK had done for me years ago. She brought them to me. “You remember what AK said to you?” I nodded. I remembered every word. “Then take one of these to Asher and tell him the same. It will help him. I promise.” I took the glasses from Maddie. “I will be waiting for you in our bedroom.” “Maddie . . .” I said again, not sure I could do it. “I love you.” She went into the bedroom, leaving me alone with Ash. The whiskey in the glasses sloshed from side to side. I frowned, seeing my hands were shaking. You remember what AK said to you? I thought of Maddie’s words then walked toward my brother. He didn’t lift his head until I sat on the couch beside him. I looked into the fire too. Nothing to see but burnt ashes. Clenching my jaw, I thrust out my hand in Ash’s direction. “Here,” I said, holding out a glass of whiskey. Ash didn’t do shit for ages, but then he took the glass from my hand. His fingers touched mine. They were ice cold. They were shaking. I heard his breathing. It was weird, stuttered and low. I glanced to the side and saw his head was down. He held the whiskey in his hands, not drinking. “Drink,” I said. Ash looked up. His cheeks were pale as fuck, and his fucking eyes were wet. Tears were running down his face. My gut twisted. I didn’t know why. I pointed at the whiskey again. “Drink.” He didn’t. Just sat there, looking at me with tears running down his face. I knew I’d be shit at this. I told Maddie I couldn’t do it. You remember what AK said to you? I closed my eyes and remembered AK that day. I remembered what he did, like Maddie said. I just had to tell Ash what AK told me. AK had started by putting his hand on my shoulder. Opening my eyes, I looked down at my hand. I clenched my fingers in a fist. I could do this. I could touch Ash. I had to. Reaching out my hand, fighting the urge to pull it back, I put it on Ash’s shoulder. It felt fucking weird. I
wanted to pull back, but I imagined Maddie’s green eyes. Imagined her smile as I did it. Ash swallowed and met my eyes. I wanted to look away, but I fought the need and repeated—word for word—what AK had said to me. “Come on, Ash. You need a drink.” Ash’s mouth was open a little, and he looked at my hand on his shoulder out of the corner of his eye. I didn’t think he was gonna do shit, but then he brought the whiskey to his mouth and took a sip. “All of it.” I downed my own. The liquor burned my throat. But it made things better. Ash finished his too, then wiped his cheeks with his forearm. “It gets easier,” I said, saying AK’s words to Ash in exactly the same way he’d said them to me. “From this moment on, it becomes second nature and don’t bother you as much. I promise.” Ash blinked, blinked again. “I just keep picturing his face as he stared up at me from the ground.” My teeth gritted together. “He had brown eyes. I keep seeing his fucking brown eyes, Flame.” “He was scum. He deserved to die. And you saved AK.” A weird pain pulled in my chest at the thought of AK being killed. I didn’t like it. I didn’t fucking like it. Ash held out his hands in front of him. “I keep thinking I see blood on my hands. I keep washing them, but I still see blood sometimes.” I had fuck all to say to that. AK hadn’t said anything else to me that night years ago. Then Ash looked at me again, and his face screwed up. He was crying. Fuck, he was crying. I tightened my hand on his shoulder, but he just cried more. Panic surged through me. I looked at our bedroom door, but it was shut. I had to get Maddie. She’d know what to do. But then Ash’s head fell forward. I didn’t like how he looked. It made my heart hurt. I heard Maddie’s words in my head. Like me, he loves you. And you love him. He is safe for you. He may need to know that he is loved right now. A hug will give him comfort . . . I stared at my hand on his shoulder. Everything in me told me to push him away. But when I saw his shoulders fucking shaking, I couldn’t. I took a long fucking deep breath and yanked him to my side. I put my arm around his shoulders and brought him into my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut and breathed through my nostrils, trying to fucking calm down. Ash stopped making a sound. I opened my eyes, thinking he would say something to me. That he would look at me and make me push him away. But he didn’t. Instead he gripped onto my cut and cried some more. I stared at the ashes in the fire, just working on keeping my shit together. He was touching me. He was touching me. He’s good, I told myself in my head. He’s your fucking brother. Ash stayed that way for ten minutes. I counted the minutes in my head in seconds. Eventually he let go of my cut and lifted his head. His face was red and blotchy. He ducked his eyes from me when I looked at him. Staring across the room, I asked, “You okay now?” “Yeah,” he rasped then cleared his throat. “Thanks, Flame.” I nodded my head. Something fucking weird burst in my chest. It was warm. It didn’t know what it was. “Sorry for being a fucking pussy,” he said. “Not a pussy,” I said. “You killed. You’re a Hangman. You’ll kill again. I don’t feel it, but AK told me most people freak out. You’ve freaked out. It’s done. Won’t happen again.” “Yeah.” It got quiet. Real quiet. I didn’t know what else to say, but Ash spoke first. “Sorry I came here. I just wasn’t thinking, and the next thing I knew I was at your door.” His face was bright red. “I’ll leave soon. Go to Slash or Vike. AK has a full house again.” I didn’t like the fact that he’d be going to Slash or Vike. “You like it in this house?” I asked. Ash looked up; I saw it in my peripheral vision. “I love it,” he said quietly. “I like being with you and Madds.” “Stay here tonight.” I got up from the couch. I couldn’t take all this talking shit anymore. “Really?”
I nodded. “Madds never changed the back room. It’s yours.” “Thanks, Flame,” Ash said. I was almost at the bedroom door when I looked back. Ash was on the couch. I glanced at the back room where he would be staying tonight. I thought about him being there every day. And I . . . liked it. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and said, “You wanna live here?” Ash never said shit in response. I opened my eyes, about to just leave him the fuck alone. Ash was on his feet, looking at me from the other side of the couch. “You mean it?” he asked. “You want me to move in?” “You got a room. You should use it.” “Yeah.” He smiled. My jaw clenched. “Don’t tell AK yet. Wait ’til all this shit with Phebe is done. He might take you leaving bad.” “Okay,” Ash said. I nodded and turned the knob on my bedroom door. I needed to get away now. My head was too full. “Flame?” Ash called, making me stop. I didn’t look back. “Thank you.” He was speaking real fucking quiet. “For everything. I . . .” I heard him take a deep breath. “I think I’m gonna like living here.” I nodded again. I had no words. I pushed through the door and slammed it shut. Maddie stood by the bed, waiting. She was fucking crying too. “What?” I jumped forward. “Why are you crying?” “I love you, Flame,” she said, taking my hands. I frowned. “I don’t understand. Why are you crying?” “I heard you speak to him.” She smiled. “And I heard you ask him to live with us.” “You told me before that I should think about it. I have. I asked him to move in. He said yes.” Maddie threw her arms around my waist. “I am so proud of you, Flame,” she whispered, and I felt my chest get tight again. “Just when I believe I could not love you even more, you go and prove me wrong.” “I love you too,” I said and kissed her head. Then I froze. Every fucking part of me went still. My eyes were on the bed. Maddie had been drawing. Releasing her, I went to the bed and picked up the sketchpad. Ice filled me, and I looked up at Maddie for answers. She shrugged. “It is not true yet. And I know that it may be a while before we are ready.” She came toward me, and I stared at the picture again. I didn’t know what the fuck was happening in my heart and my stomach, but I felt hot and cold. Fucking confused. “It is just something I wonder if we could have one day.” Maddie laid her head on my bicep. Her hand ran down the picture. I was there. She was too, and in her arms was a baby. “I did not know if we could ever do it. But hearing you with Ash just now made me believe that, perhaps, one day, when we are stronger still, that we . . . could.” “Maddie.” I looked down at her head on my arm. I swallowed and tried to imagine her like Mae was now, stomach growing. And I didn’t feel the flames heat up. In fact, they calmed. Maddie lifted her head. She smiled. I kissed her mouth and said, “Maybe . . . one day.” Then I kissed her again. Still holding the picture in my hand.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Phebe
My eyes fluttered open at the feel of someone’s hand on my forehead. “Phebe?” a familiar voice said. “Mm?” I murmured, not wanting to leave the woods. Yet the hand pulled me away. My soul yearned for that touch, for the heart of the person that soul belonged to. A magnet’s pull. “Phebe,” he said again, and I opened my eyes. As the room came into view, I smiled. “AK,” I said and felt my heart fill with light. “Yeah,” he said gruffly. “I need you to wake. You’ve been asleep for a couple of days now.” As his words sank into my bliss, I felt a darkness begin to puncture the light. My mind raced, showing me things I did not want to face . . . Meister dying under my hands, Grace screaming . . . and then . . . then Sapphira’s body in my arms, her hand growing limp in my own. “Sapphira,” I cried, the impact of her loss instantly too much to endure. I wrapped my arm around my stomach and tried to find some release as the sadness gripped me. I felt arms cradle me and pull me to a hard chest. AK. I knew his scent. “I cannot take this,” I whispered and let the tears fall. “Red.” He put his hand under my chin, forcing me to lift my head. “Look at me.” I did as he said, and his handsome face came into view. “She’s alive.” I stopped moving. I stopped breathing as his words washed over me. “She lived. Sapphira, she lived.” Shock rendered me speechless, numbing me completely. “What?” I eventually choked out, reaching out to steady myself on his wrists. “She’s alive. Fuck, Red, she’s awake. And she’s asking for you . . . she’s asking for her mother.” My chest tightened and my breath shook as I listened to his words. “She died in my arms. She was born into my arms, and I was there as she died too. My baby . . . my girl . . . I saw her both arrive and leave me.” “She didn’t die, Red.” His head turned in the direction of the bedroom next door. “She’s through there, and she just woke up. She wants you. She’s scared, and she wants her mom.” AK’s voice was husky and raw. His eyes shone as he looked at me, and I could tell by his face that he was not lying. “She is here . . . with me,” I said, the words sounding like a trick. AK nodded, and devastation hit me. “I thought she was gone. I thought I had not saved her. I thought she died trying to save me. And I could not . . . I could not bear the burden . . . that she would have died for me, when I should have died for her.” Tears flooded my eyes and I choked on my sorrow. AK’s hands cupped my face and tilted my head up. “Because she loves you, Red. She never knew you as her mother, but when it came to it, she took that fucking bullet for you because you loved her even when you were held back from telling her.” He nodded. “She knew. She fucking knew.” I fell into his chest and broke down. I held on to his shirt as I shook my head. “I am sorry. I am so sorry . . . what I did, after what happened to your brother . . .” I heard AK fight back his sorrow. “Just don’t fucking do it again.” He wrapped his arms around me. I looked up at his kind eyes. “I kinda like having you around.” He tried to smile, then kissed my lips. It hurt and I flinched, but he was gentle and brief. “Now get in that room and see your kid. This time it’s on your terms, Red. She needs you.” “She needs me,” I said. Nerves fluttered inside me. Taking AK’s hand, I got out of the bed. I was dressed in a long nightgown that Bella had given me. My body ached, but I had to get to Sapphira. When we arrived at her closed door, my hands started to shake. I turned to AK. “What if I cannot do it?” He looked at me curiously. “What if I am bad at this . . . at being a mother?” “Impossible.” He tucked my hair behind my ear. “You were fucking made for this moment, Red. All the
shit, it led you right to this moment.” He was perfect. I slowly turned the knob and opened the door. I could not contain the emotions that hit me as I saw Sapphira, clean and awake in the center of the neatly made bed. Her brown eyes were scared and large, but when they saw me nervously enter the room, they filled with something else entirely. Gone was the fear, and in their place was . . . love. Love and happiness . . . and it saw my heart soar to an unknown height. “Sapphira,” I whispered, my voice breaking as the sob I tried to hold back came forward. I walked as fast as I could to her bed and sat on the edge. Careful of her injury, I stared down at my daughter. I had never felt so blessed. Her fingers twitched on the bed. As if they craved my touch, as if they needed me. I softly threaded my fingers through hers. I sighed and she sighed. Meeting her watery gaze, I said, “I thought I had lost you.” Sapphira smiled and shook her head. Then her hand gripped mine tighter. “I thought I had lost you too.” Her voice was as sweet as it had been in my dream. “You saved me,” I said, feeling my heart break at the memory. “I had to.” She tried to get closer. I moved for her, placing my hand on her soft cheek. Marks still remained, but she had been cleaned. She looked like an angel. My angel. “I could not imagine a world without you in it.” My eyes snapped to hers, and her skin blossomed with an embarrassed blush. “You could not?” I whispered, and I felt each of her words cement a permanent place in my heart. “No.” A single tear fell down her smooth cheek. “You . . . you are my mother.” I watched her try to smile through her tears. An elated laugh came from my throat, and I kissed her head. “Yes, I am,” I said and could not help but smile. I sighed and moved back. Sapphira looked to the doorway. I followed her gaze and saw AK standing there. I smiled when his dark eyes met mine. “That is AK.” He tilted his head in a hello. Turing back to my . . . daughter, I said, “He is my love. A part of my heart.” “The one you told me about?” she asked shyly, ducking her head from his attention. “Yes.” “I met my aunt, Lilah.” She smiled. “I like her. She cleaned me when I woke.” I closed my eyes, embracing the wash of joy I felt as I thought of my beloved sister caring for my precious daughter. I heard AK move from the door, and Sapphira watched him go. “Do we get to live the life you spoke of now? The one you told me existed if we only survived?” “Yes.” I squeezed her hand. “We get to live the way we always should have.” Her eyes fell nervously. “I . . . I get to be your daughter here?” A pause. “A real daughter?” “If you want that,” I said, praying with every fiber of my being that she said yes. She looked at me again through long lashes. “D-Do I get to call you . . . Mama?” The last word was a whisper. But it was a grace. A blessing, pure and simple. A softly spoken pardon for all of my wrongs. A new start. “Yes,” I said and took her gently in my arms. “Yes.” Then my heart bloomed when she whispered, “Mama.” I closed my eyes and savored the sound. Fourteen years. Fourteen years to hear that uttered from her lips. “Mama? What about the others? The other sisters that had been captured?” My heart broke. “They have gone, sweetheart. No trace . . . and I fear no hope. The men here have tried to seek them out the best they can, but their whereabouts are tragically unknown.” Sapphira was silent at that news. I was not sure she could take anymore sadness. My daughter had had her fill in her young life. “Mama . . . ?” Sapphira said softly, a few moments later. “Can you stay with me while I fall to sleep?” “Of course,” I said, almost breaking with joy. I laid my body beside Sapphira on the bed and wrapped
my arm around her shoulders. She fell against me and gave a happy sigh. “Will you tell me about this world?” she asked, tiredness in her quiet voice. “It is like nothing we ever knew, sweetheart.” I closed my eyes and thought of AK. I thought of his kindness, his laughter, his pure heart. I thought of Lilah laughing as she ran over her lawn with Grace. And I told her of it all. All the good we were robbed of in our lives, and I knew my girl would now get to see these things too. It was not long before I heard her breathing steadily with sleep. I looked down at her asleep in my arms, and a realization hit me. I had finally done it. I had stayed with my daughter, telling her a story as she fell asleep. And I would never have to leave her again. She was safe. And I was forever changed, all because of one man. I bent down and kissed her head. “I will never let you down. This is my solemn vow.” Leaving her to rest, I made my way from the bedroom and followed the smell of AK’s cigarette smoke. He was sitting at the kitchen table, lost in thought. He wore a white shirt with his leather vest and his dark jeans. His long hair was resting on his shoulders. All the time, all I could think was he is mine. He must have heard my feet on the floor, as his head turned toward me. I moved beside him and placed my hands on his cheeks. I saw the confusion in his eyes and said, “You have saved us.” My voice caught, but I kept pushing through. “You did the impossible and gave me my daughter. You gave me a chance to be a mother.” AK swallowed and exhaled deeply. “And you gave me back the beat to my heart.” I kissed each of his cheeks. “I love you, Xavier Deyes. I love you more than I knew was possible. You are my grace. You are my redemption.” “Red,” he said roughly. I sat on his lap, sighing when his hands wrapped around my back. I stared into his beautiful eyes. “You have given me this gift, this moment where my hell has ended. And now you need it too. Save yourself the way you try so hard to save everybody else.” He looked away, but I guided him back to me. “I will be here with you. As will your family.” I pointed out of the window. “Viking, Flame and Asher. And Sapphira too. We will all be here for you.” He watched me. He watched me for so long that I knew he had become lost to his thoughts. Then he kissed me, gently, reverently, before bringing me to my feet. “I gotta make a call,” he said and walked outside. “Tan?” I heard him say. “I need your help in tracking someone down.” And I smiled as I sat at the wooden kitchen table and looked about the cabin. I heard the birds singing outside. I heard the sounds of Flame and Viking coming over to talk to their best friend. And I knew this was it. This was the life I never thought I would gain. AK and Sapphira, forever by my side. I was home.
Chapter Twenty-Four
AK
Two weeks later . . .
I pulled my bike to a stop at the address Tanner had given me. Fucking Austin. The house had been in Austin. Right beside me all along. Phebe’s arms tightened around my waist, and her mouth came to my ear. “Are you okay?” I closed my eyes, and all I could see was Dev and Tina. I saw them only in my head now that the terrors had stopped. Nothing would stop the nightmares, the memories, but things were . . . better. “Yeah,” I said and knew we both understood I was a fucking liar. Phebe’s arms came from my waist, and she got off the bike. She stood on the sidewalk, dressed in leather, her long red hair back in a French braid. Fucking perfection. She held out her hand. “We are here now, AK. Let us go to the door.” I got off my bike, fucking clenching my fists as my hands shook. And no matter how many deep breaths I took, I couldn’t calm myself. I knew I wouldn’t be able to. Because I knew how wrong this shit could go. I was under no illusions. I expected to have the door shut in my face and the cops called on my ass. For all I knew, they wanted me for breaking Dev outta the nuthouse all those years ago. No doubt Claire and Tom would have told them my part in it. I gripped Phebe’s hand as we walked up the path to the massive white-painted house. Part of me relaxed at the sight of such an expensive place. Zane grew up here. He’d had more money than Dev or Tina could ever have given him. Not that money meant shit. But at least he hadn’t been in a shithole. When we arrived at the door, Phebe leaned into me. I looked at her freckled face, and she smiled in encouragement. “This probably won’t go well,” I said in warning. “I know,” she replied, then nodded at the door. I lifted my hand and knocked three times. I stood back, waiting. I looked down at myself and wondered if Claire would even recognize me. I was wearing faded jeans, a black shirt and my cut. My hair was long. The last time she’d seen me it was still short. And fuck knows I’d aged. The door opened. Phebe’s hand squeezed mine as I slowly looked up into Claire’s older, but familiar, face. It took her a while to see who I was, then I saw her eyes widen. “Xavier?” she whispered, bringing her hand to her mouth. Her eyes tracked over me, studying how I looked. “Claire.” My fucking voice was raw. “I don’t believe it.” She shook her head. Her hand dropped from her mouth. I braced myself for her wrath, braced for her to tell me to get the fuck gone. But instead, she sighed. “We’ve been looking for you for a real long time.” I froze. I froze and felt Phebe take in a long inhale. Claire pointed to the table and chairs on her wide front porch. “Let’s sit. Tea?” I still couldn’t speak, so I was thankful when Phebe smiled and said, “Yes, please. Thank you.” Claire went back into the house, and we sat down. “This is good,” Phebe said and brought my hand to her lips. She kissed the back of my hand. “I thought she was gonna slam the door in our face.” I looked across at the picturesque suburban street. “She blamed me, Red. She fucking told me to my face that it was all my fault.”
“It was not,” Phebe said vehemently. I smiled at her defense of me. I wasn’t sure I’d ever forgive myself for what I did, but I fucking appreciated how she wouldn’t stop trying until I did. Claire came back outside and placed down the tea. She handed us each a glass and nervously sat in the seat opposite me, running her hands over her floral dress. “Tom was transferred from Plano when Zane was twelve.” I stilled as she mentioned my nephew’s name. “We’d heard you had come to Austin too, and from the minute we arrived—before that, in fact—we’ve been searching for you.” “Why?” I asked gruffly. Claire’s shoulders sagged. “Because he missed you, Xavier. He missed you so much.” I didn’t expect the fucking lump to build in my throat, but then I didn’t expect that Zane had wanted me . . . after everything. “It was a lot, you know? Losing Tina and Dev like he did . . . the way he did. His parents gone in such a violent way. But what I will never forgive myself for was him losing you too.” Claire straightened her shoulders and flicked away a tear that had fallen from her eye. “I was so hurt by what Dev had done to Tina. I was so angry, was so blinded by fury, that I believed I was doing best by sending you from his life.” She regarded me with guilt in her gaze. “I blamed you.” Her words were a fucking blow to my chest. “I blamed you and thought you would hurt Zane too.” My hand tightened around the glass in my hand. “It was my fault.” I looked down at the ice melting in my tea. “I fucked up. I fucked up, and all the shit that came to Dev and Tina—fuck, to Zane—was all on me.” “AK,” Phebe said in a hushed voice and clutched my arm. But I couldn’t look at my bitch. If I did, I knew I would fucking break. “He had PTSD, Xavier,” Claire said, and I lifted my head. “I had to have a lot of counseling. It took me years to deal with her death.” Claire choked on a sob. “She was my baby sister. And he killed her. Dev, the boy she had loved since high school . . . I couldn’t comprehend it. Couldn’t believe it.” She pulled herself together. “But over the years I had it explained to me in such a way that I do understand now.” She sniffed. “What Dev went through in Iraq . . .” I tensed. “The little help he got when he returned, left to fend off the darkness alone . . . I can understand how it happened. He never truly came back. He remained living in that time until he died.” She swallowed. “It still hurts. And there isn’t a day goes by that I don’t think of Tina, especially if Zane does something that she would have done—a gesture, an expression, saying a certain word.” Her face crumpled. “It has been very hard.” “I know,” I said and felt my own fucking tears rising. “But I was wrong. That boy didn’t cope well with losing Dev and Tina.” Claire glanced away to gain composure. When she looked back, she said, “But you were his best friend. He idolized you above anyone, and he knew you were out there somewhere. He didn’t understand why you weren’t coming to see him. “I told him it was me. I told him I had sent you away because I was angry. And he hated me. For a while there, he had a real hard time.” She blinked, her eye makeup running some. “But he is a good kid, Xavier. A kind boy. Smart boy.” She broke down, and I held out my hand and covered hers. It was trembling. “They would have been so proud of him.” She laughed sadly. “He looks like you. Just like Dev. Like a Deyes man.” My head dropped as she told me that. Her hand flipped under mine and she squeezed my fingers. I still couldn’t fucking look up. “He begged us to look for you. He wanted you so badly, his Uncle X. We cashed in every favor we could with friends in the police, government, but it was like you had fallen off the grid.” “I had,” I said when I could finally look at her again. My cheeks were fucking wet, but this was Zane she was talking about. My fucking nephew wanting to see me. Needing me, and I wasn’t fucking there for
him. After everything he’d gone through, I hadn’t been there. “We had to give up eventually.” Claire shook her head. “But every time we go out anywhere, he looks for you. We believed you were in Austin, so he never stops looking.” Claire’s eyebrows came down. “And here you are, at our door.” “It was time to come find him,” I said. I felt Phebe’s cheek land on my arm. “He’ll be home soon.” Claire checked her watch. “School will have gotten out. He’ll be here any minute now.” The nerves that accosted me were so fucking strong that I had to fight to fucking breathe. Then I felt Phebe tense beside me. I didn’t look up. By her reaction, I knew he was here somewhere. “He does look just like you,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. That was all it took for me to raise my head. I heard the gate open before I saw him. He was looking at my bike, his head turned in that direction as he walked up the path. Then he turned. He turned and looked toward the porch. Brown eyes, long brown hair. Jeans, a white shirt, and black boots on his feet. Fuck. It took him a second to see me. But when I stood, looking right into his eyes, I saw his brief confusion come clear. And I fucking saw the recognition hit home. He was tall, like me, and for a fifteen-year-old, fairly stacked. But it was his fucking eyes that I couldn’t get past. Because looking back at me was Dev. My brother was looking at me through his kid. His backpack hit the ground, and he stood dead still. “Uncle X?” he said, and it sliced right through me. His voice that I once knew as belonging to a kid had dropped. He sounded just like Dev now too. “Hey, kid.” I stepped forward. But I stopped when I saw his eyes close and his head drop. I panicked, panicked that he didn’t want me here after all. But when a low sound came from his mouth and he launched forward up the steps to the porch and wrapped his arms around me, I fucking broke. The kid was crying. Fucking holding me so damn hard that I fucking broke too. I held on tight to my nephew and wasn’t sure I could ever let go. Last time he was in my arms like this he was little and thin. Now he was anything but, but it still felt the same. My chest still felt as fucking big. “I’ve missed you,” he said and I clenched my eyes shut. “Missed you too, kid,” I said hoarsely. Zane pulled back his head and searched my face. “I don’t blame you,” he said. I had to turn my head from his gaze. “I know he was sick from the war. But I don’t blame you for anything you did. You tried to help him.” “Fuck, kid.” I wiped my eyes with my forearm. Zane stepped back, and I saw him looking at my cut. His watery eyes widened. “You’re in the Hangmen?” His eyes lit up. “Yeah,” I replied, confused how he even knew who the fuck we were. You’d think I’d just told the kid I was Jesus fucking Christ by his reaction. “I see them all the time riding through downtown.” He focused on my cut. “AK,” he read. “That’s your road name?” I nodded, a smirk on my lips. “You like bikes?” Zane put his hands in his pockets and nodded. He looked over his shoulder at my bike. “That’s yours?” “Yeah.” “Aunt Claire?” Zane asked. “Can I show Uncle X the garage?” “Sure,” she said, smiling. I caught Phebe watching, her fucking heart breaking. I held out my hand and pulled her in to my side. “Zane, Phebe. Phebe, Zane. Phebe’s my old lady,” I said to my nephew. Phebe shook his hand. “Very nice to meet you, Zane,” she said. “I have heard so much about you.”
“You have?” he asked in shock. “Yes.” She smiled. “And I have seen many of your pictures too.” I saw the kid about to fall apart again, so I put my hand on his shoulder. “The garage?” Zane exhaled deeply, then led me around the back of the house. He opened the garage and flicked on a light. I didn’t make it through the doorway. I didn’t move a damn step when I recognized the bike that sat in the middle of the garage floor. “Is that . . .?” “Dad’s? Yeah,” Zane said. The word “Dad” hit me like a blow to the chest. He moved beside the old Harley Davidson Low Rider, more rust than anything now. Zane crouched down beside it and ran his hand gently over the seat. “Dad never cared much for it when he came back from Iraq. After they . . . died, Aunt Claire put it in storage with all their other stuff. She couldn’t look at anything until a year ago, and that’s when I saw it.” He stood. “She let me bring it home and work on it.” “You work on bikes?” I asked, suddenly feeling Dev’s presence beside me. His kid liked bikes too. It was always the plan. Serve our country, drink beers and just fucking ride when we were home from tour. I always imagined Zane doing the same one day. I wasn’t too far wrong. “I love them.” He came over all shy. “I ain’t too good at them yet. Learning mostly off YouTube and shit like that, but I’m getting better . . . I think.” “YouTube?” I shook my head. Zane laughed at my horrified reaction. I stepped further into the garage and ran my hand over the bars of the bike, remembering Dev riding beside me, fucking free with the wind. A good memory for once. “You wanna learn from real mechanics? Bikers who know what the fuck they’re doing?” Zane’s mouth dropped open. “You serious?” “As a heart attack. My brothers know a thing or two about this shit.” I winked at him, and he burst out laughing. “Yeah,” he answered quickly. He paused. “At the Hangmen compound?” “’Course.” “I ain’t able to ride bikes yet though. Aunt Claire says I’m not allowed until I’m older.” “Fuck that shit. I’ll teach you,” I said, and Zane swallowed. “Yeah?” he croaked. “Yeah.” He stared at me and I stared at him. “You look like him.” I said and my fucking heart cracked. Zane bowed his head. “I miss him. I miss them both so fucking much,” he said, his voice breaking. I put my hand on the back of his head and pulled him in to my chest. “I fucking miss him too. Both of them.” Zane didn’t say shit for ’bout thirty seconds, then said quietly, “And I miss you, X . . . so damn much.” “Never again. Yeah?” I said and fought harder than ever before to not fall apart. “You mean that?” He grabbed hold of my shirt like he was scared I would disappear. “I swear it.” “Good,” he said softly. We stayed like that for a fucking age. And eventually, I could breathe. For the first time in years . . . I could breathe. “You wanna come to a cookout soon? Stay for a few days? At the compound, then the lodge?” Zane stepped back and wiped his eyes with his shirt. “With the Hangmen?” “Yeah.” I laughed at the excitement on his face. “They’ll be there. Introduce you to my road brothers and best friends. Lil’ Ash too.”
“Lil’ Ash?” “You’ll like him, kid. ’Bout your age. Likes bikes.” “Cool,” Zane said, then fucking smiled. “Yeah . . . cool.”
*****
Phebe
By the time we returned to the cabin, it was dark. AK and I had spent the evening with his nephew. He caught AK up on what he had missed—school, life events, plenty. I did not understand most of what they talked about, but I did not care. It was blessing enough to see him reunited with his nephew. He was . . . happy. “Saff staying with Li tonight?” AK asked as he closed our cabin’s door. “Yes,” I replied and turned to stand at AK’s chest. I ran my hands down his cut, threading my hands underneath and pushing it off his shoulders. His breathing changed, his nostrils flaring under my touch. “What’cha doing, Red?” he asked, his voice low. I moved my hands to the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his toned, muscled stomach. His tattoos stood bright against his olive skin. I pulled the shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor. Leaning forward, I peppered kisses across his chest, moving to lick around his nipple. AK hissed and pushed his fingers through my hair. “Red . . . you ain’t ready.” I looked into his eyes. “I went to the doctor yesterday with Lilah. I was given the all-clear, as they say.” He searched my eyes, then moved his hand to my cheek. “Even so, not sure you’re ready in there.” He tapped my head with his free hand. I closed my eyes, letting the fact of how much he cared for me take root. A strange concept indeed. I let my forehead press against his and spoke from my heart. “I need you . . .” I did not want Meister’s touch to be the last on my body any longer. “There is only one man’s touch I ever want on my body again —given freely, and lovingly.” I met his dark gaze. “Yours.” “Red,” AK murmured. I led him to our bedroom, closing the door behind us. I unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them off his legs. I stepped back as AK stood before me, gloriously naked. I slipped my jacket, tank and bra from my torso, then slid my leather pants down my legs. I never broke AK’s stare as I removed my panties and stood up straight. “Beautiful,” AK said, his voice raspy, as I held out my hand. He took it without hesitation, and I led him to the bed. I lay down and he lay beside me. I stared into his eyes and pressed my mouth against his own. I let my lips worship his lips and let my heart fall into perfect sync with his. I moved over his chest, moaning as his rough hands landed on my back. His soft tongue pushed into my mouth, and I could taste him. I felt his hands on my skin, felt his heat merge with mine. I felt it all. I allowed myself to feel it all. I did not block out a single second. Breaking from his mouth, I kissed down his neck and chest. I kissed his torso and moved down to the muscled V that led to his manhood. AK groaned as his legs shifted in anticipation. Taking his length in my hand, I looked up into his eyes to see them glazed and dazed as he stared right back at me. “I love you,” I whispered. His eyes flared as I took his manhood in my mouth, slowly and gently. “Yeah, Red,” he hissed and ran his hands through my hair with the softest touch. I moaned as his taste burst on my tongue. My eyes closed, and I savored the feel of him like this with me. “Come here,” AK said. I crawled up over his body, confused. “Wanna taste you too.” He guided my hips toward him until my legs were over his face, my stomach pressed against his. I rolled my head back when his mouth came
between my legs. His tongue explored me, and I stroked his length in my hand. Needing to taste him again, I bent down and took him back in my mouth. I licked him and sucked him until I could no longer take the feel of his tongue at my core. My cheek flattened on his thigh as he held me in place and licked me until I broke apart into a million pieces, falling slowly back into place. AK lifted me and laid me down onto the mattress, then climbed above me. He spoke no words as he placed his hands on either side of my head and moved between my legs. I brushed my hands through his hair, locking his dark stare as he pushed inside me. He was as gentle as a feather as he filled me, carefully, beautifully . . . all so I felt no pain. “You good?” he asked. “Yes,” I replied. I ran my hands over his arms as he rocked back and forth. His warm breath ghosted over my face, the heat from his body kept me safe, and tears came to my eyes at the reverent expression on his face. If I had not heard the words from his mouth, I would have known he loved me by the way he stared into my eyes. By the ease and gentleness in his movements, and by the way he cradled me close. As if I were precious. As if I somehow made him complete. He completed me too. “I love you.” I needed him to hear it as many times I needed to say it. “Love you too, Red.” I smiled, then I spoke what lay in my soul. “Before this, I did not know that home was a heartbeat. Or two, in my case. Beating in perfect sync with my own. Yours and Sapphira’s, the cleansing lullaby to my sins.” “Red . . .” “Repentance is a form of sorrow, AK. Grace is a form of joy. We have shed tears for every sin we have sowed. It is now time for us to smile. Smile and chase the light. Embrace the blessings we have been given. Together.” “Yeah,” AK said, and I knew I could love no greater than I did in that moment. And we made love. As the minutes passed, he took me once again, eradicating any man from my past. Healing the scars my body had endured, and burrowing his heart inside mine. As our breathing became labored and we followed the blinding lights of our pleasure, I let the tears fall thick and fast. Healing tears of joy, washing away all the shame and guilt remaining in our hearts. And as AK laid his head against my shoulder, I held him close, vowing to never ever let him go. “I am forever thankful for the day you tied me to that tree.” I felt him still. AK lifted his head and smiled a sweet, confused smile. “It was the first act of grace I had ever been given. And as I stared into your eyes, I saw myself. My reflection looking back at me . . . my wounded soul.” “Yeah,” he rasped. I knew he was telling me he had felt it too. “The devil’s man with the angel eyes.” I breathed. He breathed. We kissed. Broke apart. “The damned souls who together found grace.” “Red,” he whispered and held me close to his heart. And I closed my eyes and smiled. Because for once, there were many things to feel happy about. At last.
Epilogue
AK
Two weeks later . . .
Ky and Styx sat awkwardly in their seats as we waited for them to speak. Church had been called. “That wasn’t the first time we’ve encountered Garcia in Mexico.” Ky shifted in his seat, and Styx nodded at him to continue. “Y’all didn’t know I had a sister until I got hitched to Li. Elysia, or Sia as we call her.” He shrugged. “She wasn’t brought up in this life, so we never talked about her.” He paused. “But when she was seventeen, me and Styx had to get her out of some trouble . . . trouble caused by Garcia.” “What kind of trouble?” Hush asked. The brother was tense. Fuck, so were we all. Ky’s jaw clenched, and I could see he was one second from losing it. “She got involved with him. Then he took her. Y’all saw what he deals in. Trafficking motherfucker. Me and Styx got her out before it was too late.” “He’s been looking for her ever since,” Styx signed, then took a shot of his Jack. “Sia’s been in hiding all this time. That’s why she ain’t here often. We can’t risk it.” “He wants her back,” Ky said, and I had to give the brother credit, he kept his cool. “Diablos have been in touch. Garcia’s sniffing around again since our little trip to Mexico. Trying to get intel on us.” Styx paused, then met each of our eyes. “He’s looking for her again.” “What does that mean?” Cowboy asked. Ky’s eyes narrowed on our two Cajun brothers. Fucker didn’t like them sniffing around his sister either. “Means that fucker’s not done with my sister.” Ky leaned forward, eyes fucking flaming. “And if he comes back to Austin for her, I’ll be slicing the prick’s dick off and making him eat it whole.” “Graphic, brother.” Vike wiggled his eyebrows. “I like it.” “For now, we protect her. Watch the situation and see how it plays out. But y’all needed to know what could be coming our way,” Styx signed. “We ever gonna get the full story on what went down years back with him?” I asked, and Ky sat back in his seat. “Eventually. But not fucking today.” “We should know,” Hush said. “I wanna know what she went through.” Ky’s suspicious eyes were back on Hush and Cowboy. Neither brother even flinched. “I said not the fuck now.” “Any other news?” Styx signed, stopping Ky from castrating the Cajuns for their interest in his sister. No one said shit, so I lifted my hand. “Going to my lodge this weekend for a cookout. Y’all are welcome. Bring tents and shit if you wanna stay over.” I heard their silence. I hadn’t mentioned the lodge since Dev died. I straightened my shoulders, ignoring it. “My nephew is coming. Zane. Wanna introduce him to y’all. He’s . . .” I cleared my throat. “He’s a good kid. Loves bikes. Looks like me. Fifteen.” “Future fucking Hangman!” Vike said. I smiled, wondering what the fuck Claire would have to say about that. “Then we’ll be there,” Ky said. “Grace is at yours almost as much she’s at ours anyhow.” I laughed. Her and Sapphira were attached at the hip. “Saff ain’t met none of y’all either. Gonna try and get her to come out too. She’s kinda fucking shy. Hasn’t dared meet no one yet.” “We’ll all be there.” Styx signed, and I saw all my brothers nod their heads. I fucking loved this club.
Fucker was getting married in a couple of weeks, probably didn’t have the time, yet he was making it for me. Didn’t matter when you needed the club, it was always there. “One more thing,” I said as Styx went to slam the gavel down. “I’ve invited Rider too.” The silence was thick. “Fucker did wrong. I get it. But he saved my bitch and her daughter. Wouldn’t have either of them if he hadn’t stepped the fuck up. He took out Klansmen at the shootout and, fuck, Phebe likes him, and Bella.” I met Styx’s hard, hazel gaze. “I get he ain’t a brother, but I vote for him being allowed back onto the premises for cookouts and shit. He’s a good doc, saves us from having to go to the hospital and raise the suspicion of the cops, and he can fight. Don’t patch him in again as a brother, couldn’t give a fuck. But that’s where I’m at. Thought y’all should know.” Styx rolled his lips together, pissed. “Second it,” Smiler said. No surprise to anyone. “Ah, fuck. Me too,” Vike said, shrugging. “And me,” Flame said. I hid my smile. The fucking Psycho Trio never failed to have my back. “Us too,” Hush said, pointing at himself and Cowboy. Cowboy rolled his head toward me, lifted his Stetson and winked. Styx slammed the gavel on the table. Church was done. No decision would be made anytime soon. I didn’t care. I’d said my piece.
*****
The lodge A few days later . . .
“Will they all stare at me?” Sapphira asked Phebe. Phebe paused in brushing her daughter’s hair. They were in the second bedroom, with the walls now bright white and a new bed just for Saff. Vike and Flame had helped me get this place together. New paint, new staining. New everything. We had to start again. “They are eager to meet you.” Phebe wrapped her arms around Sapphira’s shoulders from behind. I saw Sapphira’s eyes duck at the gesture, a fucking small smile on her mouth. These two fucking killed me on a daily basis. “No one will judge you. And Lilah, Mae, Maddie, Bella and Grace will be there too. We are all of the same background. You like them, feel safe with them. And we will all be there with you.” “Okay,” Sapphira said. Phebe stepped back and turned Sapphira to face her. “You are so beautiful, sweetheart,” Phebe said with tears in her eyes. Sapphira was dressed in a long purple dress. Phebe was in her white off-the-shoulder dress that I fucking loved. Both bitches were stunning. Both mine to protect. “Thanks, Mama,” Sapphira said. I took that as my cue to go. But not before I saw the fucking blinding smile that came on Phebe’s lips. She never got sick of that word: Mama. I entered the living room of the cabin and stopped dead. Zane was looking at the pictures above the fireplace. I walked beside him. He didn’t move. Didn’t think he could speak even if he wanted to. “Had that fucking photo with him every time he went on tour,” I said and heard Zane’s slow release of breath. I fought back the tightness in my chest. “Would stare at it for hours. Missing you.” My gaze moved to the one beside it. “I remember that day,” Zane said. “You do?” “I remember the moment the shot was taken.”
I stared at the picture, as did Zane. I reached into the pocket of my cut and pulled out what I wanted him to have. When I looked at Zane, he was already watching me. And he’d seen what was in my hands. “Ain’t sure if you’d want them.” I felt the cold metal in my hands. “It’s a fucked-up situation we got. And ain’t sure if you’d want anything of his like this. I just wondered, because he was your dad—” “I want them,” Zane said quickly. I nodded and dropped the dog tags into his hands. The kid had me fucking choked up. His eyes watered as he ran his fingers over Dev’s name and number. “I’m . . . I’m proud of him, you know?” He ignored the tear that rolled down his face. “I’m proud of what he did for our country.” I nodded, because I couldn’t fucking speak. “I’m proud of you both.” He lifted his eyes to mine. “I get it didn’t end well. But . . . but Claire told me how proud Mom was of you both, you and Dad. And I remember her saying that what you were doing was important. That you were both brave.” “He’d be proud of you too, you know?” I said. Zane smiled. “You think?” “I know it. You were his life.” Zane’s head dropped, and I threw my arm around his shoulders. “And you got me now. I ain’t your dad, but I’m your uncle, and I’m here whenever you need me.” ‘I know,” Zane said, and I led him outside. Ash was straight over. “Zane, you shoot?” he asked. The two fuckers had hit it off from the minute Zane came to the compound two days ago. Knew they would. Good kids, the fucking pair of them. “Nah, my aunt didn’t let me. Always wanted to though,” Zane said. Ash looked at me. “AK’ll show you how, won’t you?” Zane looked up at me hopefully. “Sure.” “Now?” Ash said. “You gotta show Zane the target you can hit in the trees.” Ash turned to Zane. “Your uncle can fucking shoot. Never seen anything like it.” “Can you?” Zane asked, and I saw the fucking pride in his eyes. “Show me, I mean. I know you’re good. Sniper and shit.” “Sure,” I said. “Ash?” He looked up. “Talk a minute?” Ash’s eyebrows pulled down in confusion. “Zane, give us a few?” Vike walked past just at that moment. “Zane! You can help me decide which tits I like better on these porn stars. It’s like fucking Sophie’s Choice!” He threw his arm around Zane’s neck and led him away. I walked to the side of the cabin, taking a bottle of Jack from one of the tables. When Ash and I were alone, I said, “I ain’t had much time to speak to you over the past few weeks.” I took two shot glasses from my cut and poured out the Jack. I handed one to Ash. “But I’m gonna tell you what my brother said to me when I got my first kill.” Ash raised his eyebrows. “It gets easier,” I said, hearing fucking Dev’s voice in my head. “From this moment on, it becomes second nature and don’t bother you as much. I promise.” “I know.” Ash lowered his eyes. “You do?” He shrugged. “Flame sat me down afterwards and talked to me.” He gestured to the bourbon. “He gave me a shot too.” He smirked. “Told me you did the same to him when he got his first kill.” “I did.” I remembered. Ash nodded. “He reminds me of you sometimes. I think . . . I think in some ways he models himself on you.” I was shocked, fucking rooted to the spot. “You mean a lot to him.” “He means a lot to me too,” I said. “As do you, you little shit.” Ash laughed at me. “Speaking of, I’m getting some plans drawn up to get another bedroom in my cabin. Then you can come back home.” He’d been staying with Flame since Sapphira had moved in. Ash went silent, then looked away. “What?” “AK . . . Flame has asked me to move in with him and Maddie.”
My eyebrows shot up in surprise. “When?” “A while ago.” “And?” A smile pulled on his lips. “I said yes.” I blinked, not sure I could believe it. “You good with it?” “Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “I want to. Since I’ve been staying there . . . he’s been good with me. Different. I . . . Better than I could have imagined.” He shrugged. “I like it.” “Well, fuck, kid,” I said. “AK?” he said. “I . . . I just wanna say thanks. For everything you’ve done since . . . you know, I came here. I . . .” He rocked on his feet. “You’re my brother too. Like Flame. And I . . . I just wanted you to know that I’m grateful.” I swore these fucking teenagers were gonna give me a fucking heart attack. Turning me into a weeping fucking pussy. “Get here, fucker.” I pulled him into my chest and kissed his head. “You need anything from me, I’m right next door. You’re welcome anytime. Doesn’t work out with Flame, you’re back with me. Yeah?” “Yeah,” he said and stepped back. “She needs to be with her mom anyway,” Ash said. “Sapphira.” I nodded, knowing it was true. Little bitch was jaded at the world, a fucking hermit. “We ever gonna get to see her?” Ash asked. “We all wanna see what she looks like. Speak to her. Never got a chance to even see her at the shootout, and she’s been hiding ever since.” “Maybe today. Bitch is real shy, kid.” Ash nodded. I held out my shot. “Well, kid. Here’s to you saving my ass and moving in with Flame.” He laughed, and we knocked back our liquor. “We’d better go rescue Zane from Vike,” Ash said. I followed him back to the fire pit. Some of the brothers had returned from their hike to the waterfall. Styx and Ky had started the grill. They all looked good here. Dev would have loved it. “You’ll look out for him, yeah?” I said when I saw Zane’s eyes widen at something Vike had said. “Yeah. I like him.” Ash put the shot glass on a table. “He’s like you in a lot of ways.” I glanced back across to Vike and Zane, who were sitting with Hush and Cowboy. Zane was laughing. “He’d make a good prospect too,” Ash said as he walked away. I met his black eyes. He was smirking. “Just saying.” Ash walked over to Zane, and the two of them made their way to the target range. I followed behind. Another kid to teach how to shoot.
Two hours later, when night had fallen and the fire was lit, I sat down on a chair. Zane, Ash and Slash were across the pit, drinking beer and shooting the shit. I watched them, a new fucking trio. Shit, I felt old. Someone sat down in the chair to my right, another in the one to my left, as I looked around for Phebe and Sapphira. Sapphira hadn’t wanted to come out yet. Wasn’t sure if she ever would. She was freaking out. I knew who sat beside me without even looking. “Your old lady making an appearance anytime soon?” Vike handed me a fresh bottle of Bud. “Hopefully,” I said. “She doing better now?” he asked, serious. “Yeah. She’s better. Now realize she wasn’t addicted to drink or smack. She was addicted to forgetting all the shit in her life. Forgetting the fact she had a daughter she was banned from.” I thought of the past couple of weeks, of her smiling face, her fucking kind heart. Her on top of me telling me she loved my sorry ass. My chest filled with warmth. “She’s good.” “She’s ginger.” Vike smirked. “What?” he said when I raised my brows. “We gingers are a fucking
unique species. Nails. We’re all fucking nails. Made from pure Viking stock.” I laughed, hearing Flame do the same. “And you sure do have a thing for us. Needing me in your life, then Phebe. Shit, brother, if you were that hard-up for freckles I would have let you see my anaconda years ago.” “I’ve already seen it a million times . . . not by choice.” I shook my head. “And every fucking time you were impressed.” “AK.” Flame nodded toward the door of the lodge. My heart fucking pounded, near breaking from my chest, when I saw Phebe holding Sapphira’s hand, slowly leading her outside. Saff was nervously looking around the backyard, looking as if she were about to bolt any second. I saw my brothers all look her way, giving her a nod of their heads before getting back to whatever they’d been doing. Phebe led her toward the other cult bitches on the other side of the fire. Vike elbowed me in the side. “Look about,” he said and pointed to Lil’ Ash. Ash was frozen, beer suspended in the air, as he watched Sapphira walk past him and sit next to Lilah and Grace. I shook my head, groaning, when Zane and Slash tried to pull his attention. But his huge fucking black eyes wouldn’t get the fuck off Saff. She clearly saw it too, as she looked up, gave him a small fucking stunning ghost of a smile, then ducked her head again. Ash looked as if he wanted to go over and speak to her, but he just sat back, never taking his gaze off her. “Ash just got a huge fucking boner for Saff,” Vike shouted. Then he jumped from his seat. “Gotta go and rip into him over this shit. Priceless!” Vike rushed to Ash, who was still staring at Saff, like his eyes were glued on her or some shit. “Ash! Me and you need to talk about a new development, fucker!” Fuck my life. Vike sat down next to Ash, and I saw the kid cover his face in embarrassment when Vike threw his arm around his neck and started giving him shit. I turned to Flame. He was watching his kid brother too, no emotion in his eyes. “He’s moving in with you?” Flame tensed. His eyes drifted to Maddie, who was sitting with Mae, feeling her bump. “Yeah.” “You asked him?” He nodded and took a sip of his beer. “Maddie thought it was time.” “And you?” “I agreed.” “You gonna be good with him being there?” Flame’s head dropped, and I knew he was having doubts. “Don’t know. I can’t . . . I can’t talk to him like you. Don’t know what to do if he gets upset or shit. Probably fuck him up.” “Nah. You’ll be good,” I said, and Flame lifted his head. “Yeah?” “I know it.” Flame’s hands tightened on his bottle. “He told me you talked to him after the shooting.” Flame nodded. “That was good.” “It’s what you did to me. Just copied you.” “I know. So just keep doing shit like that.” Flame grew silent for a few seconds, until he said, “Thanks.” I looked at my brother. He never said thanks for anything. His jaw clenched. “Thanks for watching him . . . when I couldn’t. When my head . . .” “Always.” Clearly feeling too much emotion, Flame jumped off the chair without a word and bee-lined straight for Maddie. She was up and on his lap in seconds. I watched the brother calm the minute her hand was in his. Needing a piss, I went into the lodge. A.A. Bondy’s “When The Devil’s Loose” started playing outside. I grabbed another beer and moved to the doorway, and then I stopped right in my tracks on the mat. Phebe was on her feet, dancing around the fire with Grace. Just like the first night she had danced for me, her hands were in the air and her eyes were closed, a fucking heartbreaking smile on her lips. Grace imitated
her as Sapphira smiled from under lowered eyes, watching her mom from the safety of her seat beside her aunt. Anyone could see how much she loved her with just one look. And I couldn’t tear my eyes from Red. I watched her through the whole song. Then when the next song played, her eyes snapped open and immediately sought me out. As Bowie’s “Heroes” came on and Phebe found me there, watching, a loud laugh, fucking raw happiness, came from her throat. And my bitch never took her eyes off me as she danced. Stunning. Beautiful. Mine. And fucking free. I drank my beer as the song played out. Then I looked down to the mat at my feet. Two pairs of boots still sat there, shined to perfection, on either side. As I looked over the backyard, seeing my brothers chilling, seeing Zane laughing and happy, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. “We’re okay, Dev,” I whispered so only he could hear. I swallowed and felt a smile come onto my lips. “We’re all gonna be fucking okay.” A hand slipped into mine, and when I opened my eyes, Phebe was before me. “You good?” she asked, using my own words on me, a fucking twinkle in her eye. So I took her mouth. Felt her moan. “Yeah, Red. I’m good . . .” I breathed. Exhaled, then said, “Sunrise . . . I’m just embracing our motherfucking sunrise.”
The End
Bonus Chapter
Lil’ Ash
“Wrench,” Flame said from beside his bike. I took the wrench from the tool box and handed it to him. Flame didn’t look up. He didn’t speak, just kept working on his Harley. We’d worked on mine all morning, now we had moved onto Flame’s as the night came in. Most nights after school and most weekends we did this. And I fucking loved it. I loved just being with him. Loved being in his house. Loved eating with him and Madds. Loved sitting with him. I knew he’d never speak to me like AK did, but that was okay. He was Flame. And fuck, he tried harder with me day after day. I saw it. Maddie’s smiles confirmed it. “Asher? Flame?” Maddie’s voice called us in from Flame’s garage at the back of his house. “Dinner!” she said and Flame jumped to his feet. He threw the wrench in the tool box and I followed him through to the cabin. Maddie placed the food on the table and we took a seat. “Did you get all your homework done, Asher?” Maddie asked. “Yeah.” She smiled. When I looked up, I watched Flame watching Maddie. Whenever she smiled he always stared at her. His face never changed, but his eyes did. He fucking loved her. Anyone could see it. “How is Zane liking his new school?” she asked just as I swallowed a fork full of food. “He’s good. Sits with me at lunch and stuff. It’s just classes we don’t share.” AK had asked Zane if he wanted to attend the same private school as me—AK was paying. His aunt agreed and Zane was quickly enrolled. AK claimed it was for a better education, but everyone fucking knew it was to have him closer to him. Our school was close to the compound, small and discreet, never got involved in Hangmen shit. And Zane came back here every night to see his uncle, before AK drove him back to his aunt’s house. AK couldn’t have been happier. He had Phebe and he had Zane. He was different these days. In a good way. Calmer. Less troubled. Just . . . happy. “Good,” Maddie said. “Maybe one day Sapphira will get there too. When she has adjusted to the outside world more.” The minute she said Sapphira’s name my stomach tightened and the room fucking skyrocketed in temperature. Sapphira. Only seen her once at AK’s lodge. Fuck, she was the prettiest bitch I’d ever seen. And she’d smiled at me. A fucking beautiful smile. She only stayed out a couple of hours before going back into the lodge. I never spoke to her. Had never spoken to her. But I still couldn’t get her dark eyes and blond hair from my head. She was there every time I closed my eyes. Hell, she was there every minute I was awake. “Yeah,” I said and quickly ate the rest of my food. When I was done, I took my smokes from my back pocket. “Going for a smoke,” I said and pushed out of the back door. I lit up my smoke the minute I hit the fresh air. I took a long drag and walked toward the back woods. I crossed the boundary between Flame and AK’s cabins, just walking wherever my feet led me . . . . . . then I fucking stopped dead in my tracks. Sapphira. Sapphira was stood only a few feet from me staring up at the stars. I swallowed, my heart fucking slamming against my ribs. She was dressed in a long black dress with long sleeves. Her hair was hanging down her back and, even just by seeing her from the back, I knew her face looked fucking perfect. I rocked on my feet, fucking trying to pluck up the courage to speak, when suddenly my foot snapped a
twig under my boot. Sapphira spun around in a flash. She jumped, making a small, frightened noise when she saw me stood behind her. I held up my hands, my smoke still burning between my fingers. “Shit. Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” I said and watched her massive brown eyes widen. Her pink lips parted as she caught her breath. Even in the dark I could see her cheeks blaze with red, then her arms wrapped around her waist. She was breathing funny, real fearful. Then she spun on her heal and rushed toward the door of AK’s house. Before I knew it, my mouth opened and I said, “You ain’t gotta be scared of me.” Sapphira stopped dead in her tracks, but she never turned around. My pulse raced when she stayed in the backyard, unnmoving. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.” She gave no reaction, so I tried something else. “I used to live here, with AK. And Phebe, your mama, for a bit. Now I live next door.” I watched Sapphira’s head tip slightly to the side as she listened to me speak. I fucking held my breath as her shoulders tensed . . . then she began to turn. Her head stayed down and her eyes never looked up, but I didn’t fucking care. It meant I got to see some of her face again. I took a step closer, watching her blond hair blow in the breeze. My stomach clenched again. She was so fucking beautiful. “You like living with AK?” I asked, trying to encourage her to speak. I wanted to hear her voice. Sapphira nodded her head. I smiled. “He’s the best,” I said. I tried to think of something else to say. Something to keep her out here longer with me, but I couldn’t. I fucking fell apart around this bitch. Had no idea what the fuck I was doing. Sapphira turned and started walking toward the door. I saw AK and Phebe through the kitchen window, sat at the table, and knew I was on borrowed time. As much as AK loved me, he was hella protective of Sapphira, like she was his own daughter, one no one fucked with or risk the wrath of his fist. And I was pretty sure he would threaten to cut off my dick if he knew how I felt about her. I knew she’d been put through hell like Madds had been in that cult and through Meister. I knew she was younger than me by two years, was damaged. But I’d thought about her pretty much everyday since the lodge, and I couldn’t fucking stop if I tried. I had tried. Nothing worked. She was always there in my head. “My name’s Lil’ Ash. Or Ash. I never got to tell you that at the lodge.” I didn’t think she’d respond. I didn’t think she’d speak. But she looked up at me through her long lashes and, shocking the fuck out of me, whispered, “Ash.” I thought I saw her lip flick up at the side into a tiny smile. I thought I saw her blush. Then she fucking smashed through any barriers I had left when she lifted her head, meeting my eyes and said softly, “I am Sapphira. . . or Saffy. . . or Saff.” And I smiled. I smiled and flicked my smoke to the ground. I stepped forward, wondering if she’d run. She didn’t. So I stepped further forward, and forward again until I was stood right before her. She was short and slim and I towered over her. But I liked it. I liked that I could maybe protect her. That maybe she’d feel safe beside me too. I heard her breathing increase. I saw her body start to shake in nerves. It fucking broke my heart. Wiping my palm on my jeans, I held out my hand. “Nice to meet you . . . Saff.” Saff tensed and stared at my offered hand. Just as I was about to lower it again, I watched as she slowly unfolded her arm and, with small shaking fingers, put her hand in mine. Her grip was nothing stronger than a feather, but it was warm. Then sucking in a stuttered breath, she whispered, “Nice to meet you too . . . Ash.” No sooner had the words left her mouth than she pulled back, lowered her head and scurried back into
the cabin. But I didn’t move. I stayed rooted on the spot, trying to fucking breathe, trying to fucking do anything but follow after her, speak to her again . . . until AK came walking out of the door. “Ash? You here for me, kid? You good?” “I’m good, AK,” I said, still feeling Saff’s warm, shaking hand in mine. Still seeing that blush on her cheeks and flicker of a smile on her lips. Letting a smile pull on my face, and a fucking warm feeling fill my veins, I said, “I’m real fucking good.”
Check out, ‘I Do, Babe: A Novella (Hades Hangmen Book 5.5)’
Hades Hangmen Series
It Ain’t Me, Babe (Hades Hangmen #1) Heart Recaptured (Hades Hangmen #2) Souls Unfractured (Hades Hangmen #3) Deep Redemption (Hades Hangmen #4) Damnable Grace (Hades Hangmen #5) I Do, Babe: A Novella (Hades Hangmen #5.5)
Upcoming Hades Hangmen Novels
Crux Untamed (Hades Hangmen #6) Darkness Embraced (Hades Hangmen #7) And many more. . .
Playlist
Until We Go Down—Ruelle Close Your Eyes—RHODES Poison—Vaults Human—Rag ‘n’ Bone Man Remains—Bastille (Vs Rag ‘n’ Bone Man Vs Skunk Anansie) Lay My Body Down—Rag ‘n’ Bone Man Ends of the Earth—Lord Huron Dream—Imagine Dragons Set the World on Fire—Early Morning Rebel Bring Me Life (feat. Jonny Fears)—Kove Burden—Amos Lee Breathe Me—Sia Scars—James Bay Devil’s Girl (feat. Melody Michalski)—Overnight Ain’t No Easy Way—Black Rebel Motorcycle Club When the Devil’s Loose—A.A. Bondy Cry Little Sister—G Tom Mac Hung My Head—Jonny Cash Breathe—RHODES Hero of War—Rise Against Heroes—David Bowie Sense of Home—Harrison Storm Burning Ground—Brandon Jenner Pray To You Now—The White Buffalo Grace—Rag ‘n’ Bone Man Highwayman—The Highwaymen
To listen to this playlist click here
Acknowledgements
Mam and Dad, thank you for all the support. Thank you to my husband, Stephen, for keeping me sane. Samantha, Marc, Taylor, Isaac, Archie, and Elias, love you all. Thessa, thank you for being the best assistant in the world. You make the best edits, keep me organized and are one kick ass friend to boot! Liz, thank you for being my super-agent and friend. To my fabulous editor, Kia. I couldn’t have done it without you. To my trusted beta readers, you did it again. Thank you! Neda and Ardent PRose, I am so happy that I jumped on board with you guys. You’ve made my life infinitely more organized. You kick PR ass! To my Hangmen Harem, I couldn’t ask for better book friends, thank you for all for everything you do for me. My Flame Whores, you make each day that little bit more special. Thank you. Jenny and Gitte—you know how I feel about you two ladies. Love you to bits! I truly value everything you’ve done for me over the years, and continue to do! Thank you to all the AMAZING bloggers that have supported my career from the start and the ones who help share my work and shout about it from the rooftops. Thank you to all my wonderful author friends. It would be a scary world without you to lean on. And lastly, thank you to the readers. Without you none of this would be possible.
Live Free. Ride Free. Die Free!
Author Biography
Tillie Cole hails from a small town in the North-East of England. She grew up on a farm with her English mother, Scottish father and older sister and a multitude of rescue animals. As soon as she could, Tillie left her rural roots for the bright lights of the big city. After graduating from Newcastle University with a BA Hons in Religious Studies, Tillie followed her Professional Rugby player husband around the world for a decade, becoming a teacher in between and thoroughly enjoyed teaching High School students Social Studies before putting pen to paper, and finishing her first novel. Tillie has now settled in Austin, Texas, where she is finally able to sit down and write, throwing herself into fantasy worlds and the fabulous minds of her characters. Tillie is both an independent and traditionally published author, and writes many genres including: Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance, Young Adult and New Adult novels. When she is not writing, Tillie enjoys nothing more than curling up on her couch watching movies, drinking far too much coffee, while convincing herself that she really doesn’t need that extra square of chocolate.
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Table of Contents Glossary
