I fucking listened to it.
Despite me wanting to tell everyone what he did to Nina, I kept my fucking mouth shut, but that didn’t stop me from having nightmares about what I saw and had to do with her body. I could now add pro at dismembering body parts and keeping secrets to my list of things that make me a fucking loyal as fuck member of this club.
But it seemed like Sabbath was surfing another manic episode, and this time he wasn’t just gone, he was borderline psychotic.
My vision returned as his grip lessened.
“I swear—” I choked out. “I said nothing.”
“Then where’s the body?”
“I—I don’t know. You said the Crows knew where the cabin was. Is it possible Hoax had someone watching it?”
He moved backwards, his hand leaving my throat. It was quickly replaced with my own, attempting to soften the strangulation feeling that was throbbing my trachea.
“Yes, you’re right, Wasp. So fucking right. This is all Hoax’s fault. This smells foul, it has Crow shit written all over it.”
He started to pace. Moving crazily back and forth across the room, mumbling things to himself.
“We act tonight.”
“Sabbath...”
“They all must die.”
“Think this shit through. You’re asking us to go to war.”
“The war ends today,” he gritted out, stopping only so I could see the seriousness in his eyes. “Get the rest of the men. We attack in twenty.”
“Sabbath, come on, man. Think this through. What happens if they do have her body? How are you going to explain it to the rest of the club? You killed her, then you fucking disposed of her piece by piece. She didn’t deserve that. Nobody fucking deserves that kind of fate.”
He glared at me.
“Last I checked, Wasp. You fucking helped me bury the body.” He smirked. “That makes you a fucking accomplice.”
My fists clenched.
“I didn’t fucking kill her, Sabbath. That was all you. You forced me to come.”
“I didn’t force you to do shit. You came running, like the good little dog you are.” That smirk slid sadistically across his face, making him look pretty damn proud of himself. But we both knew the truth. He only called me to clean up his dirty work.
“Fuck you. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but I’m no murderer. That’s your fucking game. You fucking murdered Leppard, you fucking murdered Nina, so who’s next? Shasta? The club? You’re fucking delusional and explosive. We should strip you of your fucking patch, you aren’t worthy of it anymore.”
He moved fast, but this time I dodged his outstretched hands, which led to him knocking me to the ground.
“Not worthy? NOT FUCKING WORTHY? Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for this club. I’m why this club is what it fucking is. You all would be nothing without me.”
He started punching me. His fists connected with conviction and purpose. I knew from the first punch he was out to kill me. I was his only link to Nina’s murder. With me still breathing, I could bury him. The knife wound wasn’t enough anymore. The only way to shut me up was to kill me. We both knew that.
His punches took me back to an extremely dark place, one that I didn’t want to revisit. Visions of my past overpowered me, and I returned to that scared child, curled up in a ball on the floor of the apartment I shared with my mother, taking the abuse I tried to suppress.
I told myself I’d never return to that weakened state... I said I’d never become that guy ever again. It’s why I became who I am.
Depraved... thriving on punishing those who were weaker than me. I was no better than the man who molded me into the battered and bruised shell I was back then. I was a monster—but that’s what happens when monsters procreate. They create an image of themselves.
Was that why Sabbath was the way he was? Was he a product of abuse as well? Was the monster inside of him a mirror image of an abuser of his past?
I did my best to fight back, but he was more powerful and stronger than me at that moment, invoking his inner demons to unleash the physical pain he was determined to inflict.