I fought the lump in my throat as I stared at them. Sia murmured in her sleep and turned, her arms searching for Cowboy. He brought her closer, sensing even in sleep that she was his. As they rolled to face each other, I saw the identical carvings on their backs. Every muscle within me tensed. Black and white. They’d been punished because of me. Because they were with me. Knives permanently scarring their skin, because they dared to love me. I’d known from the minute I met Sia, the moment I fucking fell hard for the bitch, that this would never have worked.
I was weak. Let my heart rule my head. I wasn’t being smart. I was being selfish. And now it had hurt them.
And it could have been so much fucking worse.
Indoors, where no one could judge, we worked. But outside, in the real world, we weren’t accepted. There would always be fuckers looking down on us. And it would be their words that wounded. That would stick like tar and feathers, suffocating us one by one until there was no air left for us to breathe.
They belonged together. It was time to free Aubin. Protect Sia . . . and learn to fucking walk alone.
They’re not mine.
“Au revoir,” I whispered and snuck out the door. I got my bike and rolled it down the road until the sound of the engine wouldn’t be heard from the apartment.
Climbing on the saddle, I ran my hand over the place that held my picture. As I pulled out onto the open road, I let my bike take me to a place I hadn’t been for too long. With glassy eyes, and hands shaking, I rode hard.
To confront the demons from my past.
And join them in hell, if that was the way it had to go.
Chapter Thirteen
Hush
The lights of New Orleans passed by in a blur. My knuckles were white as I gripped the handlebars. I’d barely stopped. My pounding heart kept me going. It was amazing—acceptance. Freeing everything from your mind. Freeing the people you loved from carrying you as their burden. The weight I’d carried for so long had lifted, leaving only a determined numbness.
Without Sia, without Cowboy, I had no family left, no one close to me that mattered. The club had suspended us. Even after I went into Mexico, I was under no illusion—after taking Sia as ours, we’d still be forbidden from club life by Ky. Mexico wasn’t gonna help us keep our patch.
The picture of my parents burned in my pocket. Every fucking memory I had of the small-town hicks came rushing to the surface. Of cunt after cunt hitting me, calling me, throwing shit at my parents as they held their heads high and defiantly walked through that bigoted town hand in hand.
I turned down country roads until a building came into view. Taking a back way that I knew wouldn’t be manned, I killed my lights and followed the path to the clubhouse that had once been my sanctuary.
My eyes lost focus as I walked through the door and marched down the hallway to the bar. It was late, the middle of the night, but I knew these fuckers. They’d all still be here, drinking and fucking. Titus had this place like a fucking frat house. Ox would never have tolerated that shit.
I threw open the door. The room was a cloud of smoke and whores. I searched the faces of my old brothers, until I heard a loud laugh and fixed my gaze on the one I was looking for.
“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.
I tasted blood in my mouth. I looked around the room. “Good. You’re awake,” a voice said, a heavy Louisiana accent lacing the words.