Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 202(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 202(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
“On the topic of truths—”
El had wanted to keep Trig out of his problems, but that just didn’t seem possible anymore. “Okay! I lied! I knew they were from a cartel! That’s why I tried to off myself, because I heard they boil people alive and shit, and I just… I borrowed money, well, drugs technically. I had a buyer and transport arranged, and it was supposed to work, and be the answer to my problems, and it all went south, and now I’m fucked. I’m so fucked.” He closed his eyes and wheezed for air.
The silence he got in response was so loud everyone could hear him breathe frantically.
How pathetic was he? An adult who’d been on his own for so long yet kept making idiotic mistakes that put him in danger. Trig was right. There was something wrong with him, but he couldn’t address that something on his own.
The hand on his chest moved up, stroking up his neck to eventually settle on the side of his overheated face.
“Look at me.”
Fright made El stiffen, but he couldn’t deny Trig any longer and opened his eyes even though they were damp with tears that only emphasised how useless he was.
“I can’t take it back, Trig,” he choked out and sobbed again, shattered into little pieces only one man in the world could put back together.
“I will help you,” Trig whispered and made a broad gesture with his free hand. “These guys are my family. They could be yours too. We’ll help you.”
Tooth cleared his throat and crossed his thick arms over his chest, contemplating it all with a deep groove between his brows. But as scary as he’d been with the torture devices in hand, he didn’t try correcting Trig or claim El wasn’t his problem.
El swallowed, frightened like a mistreated animal. “Please take me out of this chair,” he said, resigned to his fate, whatever it might be.
He’d lost the will to run, and his life was now in Trig’s hands. He had no idea what the future held, since the cartel would still be after him, if not more viciously now, but once Milk unstrapped him and took his cuffs off, all El could think of was hugging Trig. His knees were still weak with fear when he stumbled into the sturdy arms he knew so well, and a whimper he was unable to hold back escaped his lips.
“I’m sorry. I should have never dragged you into my shit…”
Milk snorted. “I can think of a few ways you can pay off a debt.”
Trig glared at him, and the dumb bastard raised his hands before El could have shoved at him. “It’s not like it would hurt him.”
“Shut up,” Tooth grumbled as Trig closed El in his arms, enveloping him in the soothing warmth he’d been missing for too many years. “Call the guys for Church, Milk. The party’s over.”
Chapter 9 - El
The clubhouse was a carnage of broken glass, plastic cups, paper plates, and dirty boot marks left in spilled beer. With darkness still looming over the city like soot, the bright lights revealing the mess were a pathetic attempt to fool those present that it wasn’t the middle of the night. But El didn’t buy it, and his eyelids were getting heavy despite the coffee he’d had half an hour ago.
The motorcycle club members were still debating El’s fate behind closed doors, while he was stuck in the bar area with Lucky and Misha. El could have taken on a lightweight metalhead and a guy with no legs, but that wasn’t the point. They were there to supervise him and call reinforcements if need be, not fight him if he tried to run.
He wouldn’t try that anymore.
He’d made his bed, and it was time to lie in it.
Trig was out there, fighting his case against his biker brothers, because he cared for El and would not abandon him. Their relationship had never been transactional in nature, so despite El attempting to walk out on him—again—and despite all the hurtful words that had been said, Trig remained steady in his feelings to a point where El briefly considered running just because Trig didn’t deserve to be dragged into his shitty problems. But this time, he would stay. For Trig.
“Tooth should have made the hangarounds stay,” Lucky mumbled, dragging a large black trash bag across the floor and picking up litter with hands in thick yellow gloves. With his lush hair tied into a messy nest at the back of his head, he looked like Rapunzel-turned-Cinderella. Though last time El had checked, Cinderella never tried to guilt any of her animal friends into helping her while Lucky’s gaze kept slapping across him and Misha every thirty seconds.
Misha exhaled and rested the ankle of his prosthetic leg on top of his knee, leaning back on the leather sofa into a more relaxed position. “It’s four in the morning. Why don’t you just—”