Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 107118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
“Hush?” I heard echoing around me. “Hush? What the fuck?” others spat as I pushed through the dancing sluts and made a beeline for the motherfucker I wanted to see. My hands clenched. My skin looked pale. I hadn’t checked a mirror, but I knew I would look like shit. I’d barely slept. Barely eaten... and I’d left my meds behind.
I didn’t fucking care. Only rage and an addictive numbness controlled me now.
It felt fucking good to let go. To let twenty-six years’ worth of anger fuel my every move. Knight’s move thinking—no direct path, just doing whatever the fuck my soul told me to do.
Right now it was screaming at me to do this. To feel this.
Grinding to a halt at Titus’s table, I didn’t wait for him to see me. I threw my fist into his smug fucking face, feeling my knuckles split as they slammed into his jaw. His head snapped back and he launched to his feet.
Brothers, some I knew, some I didn’t, gathered around. Metal music, the kind that blasted through your heart, pounding your pulse, echoed around the room. The minute Titus saw it was me, a slow fucking grin pulled on his lips. I threw my jacket on the floor, my “Austin, Mother Chapter” patch showing on my cut. I knew his gaze would find it.
“Back, traitor?” he spat. My simmering blood began to boil. I narrowed my eyes. He was a lying sack of shit. I knew it. He knew it. But as I caught the savage eyes of my gathering former brothers, I knew they all thought me the sack of shit who’d thieved right under their noses.
The black brother. Of course it had to be me responsible for the missing money.
Titus’s lip curled. He threw the slut that was pawing at his arm back by her head. He was a big fucker. And when his fist flew out, smacking straight into my cheek, I let the pain travel through me. I let that shit settle in my bones . . . and I let it take hold.
Let the fucker burn.
It felt real fucking good.
Turning my head back to my old prez, I smiled, tasting the blood he’d spilled when the edge of his fist had clipped my lip. But I didn’t lash out. I wasn’t here for that.
I was here to be ground down. Here to be torn apart. Here to forget who the fuck I was.
I was here to be fucking destroyed.
I wanted to take it. I wanted to welcome everything this asshole could give. I wanted his fists, his punches, his kicks . . . I’d even welcome his blade.
I longed for his gun.
Another iron fist came barreling my way. Fist after fist flew at me, until I could no longer feel my face. Until my eyes blurred with sweat, or blood, or both. And all the time I kept smiling. Not saying shit, as Titus’s face grew redder and redder. As the prick got a hard-on for beating the mix-breed he chased out of his den with lies and racist bullshit.
Another blow took me from my feet and down to the floor, but I didn’t cage my ribs with my arms. Instead I lay on the floor, open and fucking waiting. The noise of the bar became muted as Titus’s steel-capped toes kicked into my ribs. Fists and kicks rained down.
“Hush!” a distant voice called. I closed my eyes, encouraging the blood that was being spilled to seep onto the floor. My eyes rolled. My body became so numb that I didn’t even know which part of me was being beaten anymore.
But I felt two hands grab the shoulders of my cut and drag me from the room. This time I fought. I didn’t wanna be fucking saved. I wanted to feel this. Physically feel everything that had haunted me for the past nine years. “No!” I tried to protest, choking on the blood that flowed down my throat.
The sound of the bar faded to a distant hum. Somebody lifted me and put me into a truck. I slipped in and out of consciousness as we drove somewhere. I wanted to go back. Wanted to let Titus finish what he started.
The vehicle came to a halt. Suddenly, I was on a couch. My eyes tried to open when water splashed down my face. “What the fuck, Hush?” a voice snapped. “What the fuck were you thinking? Why you back? You got a fucking death wish, brother?”
My eyes closed again. I prayed that Titus had achieved what I’d bargained with Hades for—that I’d never wake up.
*****
The smell of coffee hit my nose first. I tried to breathe, but a slash of pain sliced through my head as I did, feeling like a crowbar scraping along my skull. I cracked open my eyelids, one at a time. The bright light from the window stung my eyes. I groaned when I tried to move. My hand moved to cradle my ribs.