“Leppard? What the fuck?” I screeched, covering myself with my shirt.
He stood in the doorway just staring at me, perusing the bare parts of my skin with a hunger in his eyes I’d never forget. He reeked of alcohol, a smell I couldn’t erase from my mind if I tried. It’s a permanent memory, one that I wish I could digest and wash away.
Leppard slammed down the bottle of Jack that was in his hand, moving into the room like a predator ready to rip me apart.
“What are you doing?” I screamed as his possessive hands grabbed my shirt and threw it to the ground.
“Taking what’s rightfully mine!” he bit out, throwing me down on the bed. The little clothing I did have covering my body was ripped away, leaving me vulnerable to his unwanted advances.
“My brother thinks he fucking owns you, but we know better, don’t we, Shasta?”
Tears pricked my eyes as he climbed over the top of me, my screams muffled by his hand that covered my mouth, shutting me off to the world.
He didn’t try to get me wet or anything remotely close to foreplay. He just took me, his cock ripping me apart as it forced its way in, and took what once only belonged to Adam.
I’ll never forget that night, or the ones that followed. Every night was the same. He’d find me when I was alone, force me to fuck him or suck him off, then leave me discarded like a piece of trash, wondering what I did to deserve any of it.
The only good thing that came out of it was my ability to clear my mind, ridding it of all the nasty realities that came with being raped and abused by someone I once respected. Allowing my mind to find a blank space filled with peace and serenity was the only way I survived. Although, it never lasted long, but it was long enough to change me forever and question everything I knew about myself.
When it kept happening, I had to shrug it off as something that happened in motorcycle clubs. The other girls were passed around so often you never knew who was going to be next. I figured I was just like them, and that the Prez of a club had special privileges other members didn’t have.
It wasn’t until the day Sabbath actually caught us that I realized how wrong I was. Leppard taking me every night wasn’t normal. In fact, it was heavily frowned upon because I was Sabbath’s Ol’ Lady. But that didn’t change the fact that it happened, or the aftermath that came from Sabbath finding out. Leppard was now six feet underground for what he did, but Sabbath wasn’t here to save me now, and both Clash and Snyder were probably dead. All I had left was the blank space of serenity that I found all those years ago, that safe place I ducked into when someone took what didn’t belong to them.
It's all I had now…
BAM!
My body was flung forward as his heavy mass fell on top of me, pinning me between the mattress and his lifeless form.
The man was rolled off the top of me, and then I felt possessive hands curl around me, familiar hands that I knew too well.
“Shasta, baby, I’m here. Oh my god, I’m here.” Adam’s voice was like sweet honey to my ears, and I turned in his arms, burying my face into his massive broad shoulders.
He kissed the tears as they fell down my face, clutching me like I was his everything.
“Baby, I’m so sorry I didn’t get here sooner. Shh, don’t cry. Everything is going to be okay.”
This was the second time in my life that a man had been shot for raping me. Although, this time, the rival member didn’t get a chance to stick anything in.
“Adam?” My head slowly lifted so I could look into his deep brown eyes, and I got lost in the comfort and familiarity they brought me.
“Yeah, baby, it’s me. I got a tip that the Crows found out your location and were on the move. I texted Snyder and Clash, but I guess it wasn’t in time. I’m so sorry.”
Hearing the names of the two men that I betrayed Adam with sent me into a whirlwind of panic. The last time I looked, Snyder’s body was on the floor, and I had no idea where Clash was.
“Clash? Snyder? Are they okay?”
There was a loud groan from the other side of the room, and my heart thrummed vigorously inside of my chest when I saw Snyder begrudgingly stand.
“Yeah, I’m okay, Shasta.” He clutched his shoulder, cradling the same arm he was shot in before. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get another shot off. The motherfucker shot me in the same goddamn arm, and I went into shock for a bit.”
“It’s okay, Reese, I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Sabbath eyed me curiously, then shot a look at Snyder, who suddenly looked like a deer caught in headlights.
“You know his real name?”
“We got bored waiting for your ass to get here,” Clash answered, appearing in the doorway. “So, we shared a few secrets.” He looked unharmed other than a few bruises on his face, new ones that weren’t inflicted by Snyder when he punched him the other day. “You know, if you were two minutes later, I would’ve been dead.”