He toyed with me.
Played on my emotions.
He lied to me from the beginning.
He didn’t want me.
He used me to get what he wanted.
What hurt the most was that I was actually falling for him. His smiling face, attention to his niece, concern for my well-being, and kisses were all a lie.
He was just like the rest of them.
Club first. Use any means necessary to get what the club needed. I should have known. Instead, I let my guard down, let him in.
“I fucking hate you! You hear me, Savage. You are nothing but a lying, whoring bitch. I never want to see you again. You disgust me!” I screamed, as Savage lowered his eyes, my words cutting him to the bone.
“Sit down,” Reaper sternly said, pushing me back in my seat.
“Fuck you!” I shouted. “I’m not saying shit.”
Reaper took a deep breath, sat in the chair next to me, leaned back then sighed. “Have it your way, Jess.” Turning to Ghost he nodded.
In the next second, Ghost punched Savage hard in the face. When Ghost stepped back, rubbing his knuckles, Reaper whistled. The door to the shed opened and in walked all the brothers.
All standing looking at Savage.
“Now, before this gets ugly. Tell me about your tattoo.”
“Fuck off,” I growled.
“Vicious.”
I watched in horror as Vicious walked over to Savage and punched him in the face breaking his nose. Savage grunted, as blood poured down his face. When he looked back at me, I could see the pleading in his eyes. Begging me to say something, anything but I didn’t give a fuck. He made his bed and now he could lay in it.
They could kill him and I wouldn’t give a shit.
I was done with this club. I hoped they all rotted in hell.
“The tattoo,” Reaper asked again.
Saying nothing, I stared blankly at the fucking idiot. He was sorely mistaken if he thought beating the shit out of Savage would break me. I had no loyalties to this club. None. My childhood friend was dead because of this club. There was no fucking way I was going to betray her after she paid the ultimate price. They’d have to kill me first before I ever did that.
“Maverick”
The man who used to bring me ice-cream and let me sit on his Harley walked forward, flipping a knife in his hands. He stopped to look at me, waiting for what I didn’t know but when I said nothing, he sighed, raised his hand and let his knife fly.
Savage screamed as the knife embedded itself in his left thigh.
I flinched, looking away shifting in my seat.
The pain Savage was feeling had to be immense. I was a nurse. Trained to help, to save people. I thought hearing Savage’s scream of agony would have made me happy. Happy that he was feeling what I was but it did the opposite.
No matter what he did to me, I couldn’t let him suffer like this.
I wasn’t the monster.
They were.