“Yes,” Sandman said, getting to his feet and walking out of church as if none of us mattered. We all just stared…dumbstruck.
“Where the fuck is he going?” Ravage asked.
“Fuck if I know?” I said, watching his retreating figure. Rolling my eyes, I added, “Is there anything else?”
“Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.” Ghost said.
“Good. I’m going to bed. Ghost, have everyone up and ready by nine. We ride at ten.”
Leaving church, I headed upstairs.
Thank fuck this day was finally over.
Twenty
Savage
None of them fucking cared. I watched all of them as they laughed, ate, and had a fucking merry old time. My sister was fucking dead, and none of them gave a fuck.
Fucking assholes.
Every. One. Of. Them.
I didn’t want to be here.
I wanted to go hunting. I was going to, right after I sobered up. It wasn’t my fault Reaper found my ass first. Fuck he was a dick about it too. Couldn’t even bother himself to sit down with me and have one God damn drink in remembrance of my sister. You know the sister who fucking died for him and this fucked up club. But no. He hauled my ass out of there like I was some drunk teenager berating my ass about responsibility and shit.
He wouldn’t know fucking responsibility if it bit him in the ass.
I chuckled at that.
God, I was a funny asshole.
Taking another long swig of the bourbon, I snuck up to my room. I watched as everyone went about partying it up and having a fucking jolly good time.
And where was I?
I was fucking grounded.
Locked in my bedroom until I stopped being an asshole.
Me! A fucking asshole?
I wasn’t anything the sort. I was just grieving. So, what if I chose to drown my sorrows in liquor and sex. It was my right. She was my fucking sister. None of them understood.
She was mine.
Mine to protect.
And I failed.
Oh God did I ever fucking fail.
I was the one who fucked up.
She was dead because of me.
I shouldn’t have let her go in there.