Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
“We gonna have trouble with the cops over this?” Tank pointed at the picture of the dead Mexicans that was still on the table.
Styx shook his head. “Nah. Paid the sheriff off. He was glad they were gone. He knew it was an easy payout, coming to us for hush money.” Styx threw Ash’s prospect cut on the table and sat back down. He looked at me. “He needs to cut this shit out,” Styx said. “I’ve only been fucking easy on him because he’s your brother and he lost his best friend. But if he keeps pushing me…”
AK cleared his throat. “He likes to kill, Flame. That’ll serve him well in this club, but he’s being too fucking reckless, leaving trails. If he’s caught by cops that ain’t on our payroll, he could serve serious fucking time. Destroy his damn life.”
I looked around the table. They were all looking at me. I didn’t want them all fucking looking at me. I hated people watching me.
AK turned to Styx. “I’ll speak to Ash. Keep a better eye on him.” He turned back to me. “He needs to calm the fuck down, brother. I get that he lost Slash, but the kid’s only eighteen. He’s fucking spiraling. He’ll wind up dead if he fucks with the wrong people.” A pain, like I was being shot, swept through my stomach. Ash couldn’t die. He was my brother. I didn’t always understand him. But he was family. Him and Maddie, and AK and Vike, the club. But I didn’t know how to make him better. Maddie always knew the answer to everything, but even she didn’t know this one.
“Fucker’s a mini Flame,” Viking said. “Morphing into you by the day.” Viking nodded at Tank. “Nice job on those flame tatts, by the way. Ash’s sleeves are looking sick.” Tank saluted at Viking.
I glared down at the table. I didn’t want Ash to be like me. I was fucked up. A damn retard. Ash was better than me, smarter, wasn’t slow or stupid. I didn’t want him to be a psycho with flames in his blood, one of the devil’s own.
Styx slammed down the gavel. My brothers left the table, but I stayed in my seat. I didn’t know how to save Ash. I didn’t know how to fucking save myself. I hadn’t saved my mama. I hadn’t saved Isaiah. Not long ago, I wanted to die too. Begged AK to end it, when the fire in my body began to destroy me. Maddie had saved me. But Ash didn’t have a Maddie. He didn’t have anyone to calm the flames, to fight the demons in his soul. He was alone.
Maybe he needed a Maddie of his own.
“Flame?” I lifted my head. AK stood beside me. “I’ll drive us to the hospital in one of the club’s trucks.” He flicked his head in the direction of the door. “Phebe’s been there with Lilah since she went in. I’m picking her up. When you leave, take the truck Zane drove. The kid is coming back with me. Him and me need to have us some real fucking words.”
I followed AK to the truck. When we pulled out of the compound, we saw Styx up ahead. “He’s picking up Mae, and meeting Ky and the kids,” AK said. But I didn’t fucking care. I still felt that stabbing feeling in my stomach. Shit was making me feel sick. I couldn’t get Ash out of my mind. Or his face, as he looked at me then slammed out of the room. Why did he look at me? Did he want something from me? Did he want me to say something? Should I have gone after him? He didn’t want me. He didn’t want to talk to me in the hallway before church. He never wanted to talk to me. He didn’t even talk to Maddie anymore, and he’d always spoken to her.
“I don’t know how the fuck to make him right again,” I blurted. I couldn’t fucking sit still—there was too much shit in my brain, too much fog I couldn’t break through, so many questions and thoughts that my head fucking ached. I couldn’t get out of the damn fog. It never really cleared, but some days it was thicker and darker than others. Some days I got lost. Today, I was fucking lost.
I didn’t mean to do it, but my hand dropped to my wrist. I felt the scars on my arms under my fingertips, all the thousands of slashes I’d given myself over the years. I felt the steel of the knife in my pocket burning in my jeans. I closed my eyes when I felt the flames in my veins licking higher, smothering the cold blood that was rushing too fast, trying to run away. I couldn’t fucking take it. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I dug in my nails into my flesh, to stop the flames, to sate the fire. I hissed at the sharp slash of pain. The scars beneath my fingers began to throb as if they had their own heartbeat, pushing the blood underneath them to the surface, letting it escape. I remembered how the knife felt as it sank into my skin. The steel allowed the blood to escape, to cool the fuck down, the fucking pleasure it brought—