Finding my composure, I run to the kitchen and grab the first aid kit. As soon as I return, Alec moves his hands away from Ash’s neck, sighing and shaking his head in defeat. I race to put the pressure back on, but blood rushes from his wound like a tapped faucet. His skin is pale, his eyes staring into nothingness. He’s gone. I move to Ice and gently lift his hand away. There’s a nasty hole in his arm. “The bullet has to come out,” he tells me, and my eyes expand. I can’t do that.
“We don’t have time for this,” Kai steams, pacing the floor.
“I’ll come with you,” Alec announces, and acid races up my throat.
“N-No,” I stutter, blood coating my shaking hands. “You can’t go. You’re just a kid.” I laugh, but there’s no humor to it. It’s a frantic, fearful plea.
“Alec, I respect the hell out of you for offering, but your old man would take me to ground if I took you anywhere. Stay with your girl. I don’t need back up.”
“The hell you don’t, killer,” Jimmy growls as he walks into the room holding a shotgun. “But you have it. Alec, wake the place up. And tell Jackie and Barb to get this shit cleaned up. These motherfuckers will sleep through anything.”
It took twenty minutes for the doctor to arrive, and another fifty to dig the bullet out of Ice’s arm, stitch him up, and leave.
As soon as my dad and the rest of the brothers arrived back, I was sent to my dad’s room, and I’ve been here ever since. Showering the blood from my skin made me feel ill. Ash is gone. He was young, and now he’s bug feed. It physically hurts my heart to think of Alec patching in, leaving one night on a run, and coming back riddled with bullets. A sob catches in my throat. Grabbing a pillow from the bed, I hold it to my face so no one can hear me cry.
A light rap on the door sends my heart stammering. Shit. Throwing the pillow down, I swipe at my face and inhale a couple deep breaths before opening the door to see Alec freshly showered, a look of exhaustion on his beautiful face.
“Hey,” I say, limply, lifting a shoulder and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Hey.” He tries to smile, but it falls before ever finding purchase. “If I leave the door open, you want to sit with me for a bit and watch a movie? I can’t sleep.”
I lunge at him, wrapping my arms around his waist and burrowing my face in his chest. His hands stroke through my hair for a few silent moments. “Can we not do the slasher flick?” I mumble. “I can’t handle more blood tonight.”
“We can do whatever you want.”
This…holding each other…I want to do this forever…
Five
Alec
Seventeen years old
My stomach feels queasy from the beers being shoved at me all night. “Cheers,” another brother bellows, and a chorus rings out.
“Another drink, kid?”
“No thanks.” I shudder, and Jimmy roars with laughter, patting his meaty hand on my chest, rattling my ribcage. How the hell do they drink all day and night? My old man pulls Jackie onto his lap, slipping his hand up her skirt, gaining him a squeal, then a moan. He’s getting married to my mother again tomorrow. This will be the third time. They break up, divorce, and then get back together more than they have hot dinners. Even though she knows he’s a cheating asshole, she constantly forgives and forgets—until she doesn’t. Women are crazy.
“Smell that, boy.” My old man groans, sticking his fingers under my nose. The brothers explode in amusement. Smells like I could catch something from inhaling that. She’s probably got half the brothers’ cum inside her. Whenever my dad gets back with my mom, for the first few weeks, he tells Jackie to fuck off, and she offers her pussy around his brothers to try to spark jealously. All it does is brand her less worthy of the ol’ lady title.
“That’s club pussy,” he jeers, slapping her ass and grabbing a handful of her tits. “Come with me.” He pushes her off his knee, and she slips into a new prospect’s lap. They call him Rage, a miserable, barely-contained mountain of fury. He frowns at her and pushes her ass to the floor, causing her spill a couple beers, which leaves her extremely unpopular to the brothers who are all intoxicated and want to stay that way.
“Bitch, you better get your fat ass to the bar.”
“My ass isn’t a fat, asshole,” she snaps.
“You fucking broke Rage’s leg.”
They carry on, throwing jabs back and forth, while my father walks me down the hall to my room, his hand on the back of my neck.