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Shorty sat off to the back of the room, away from everyone, with a smug as fuck look on his face. A look I’d take the greatest of pleasure wiping off in not such a subtle way. I didn’t take my eyes off him, glaring at him, letting him know exactly what I was thinking. Still he sat there, glowering back at me in defiance, like he didn’t deserve to be pushing up daisies. Cheeky fucker wouldn’t be so smug for long.

Arsehole.

Granted I had no idea how to get out of this predicament but what I did know for sure was his hours were numbered. I had to keep hope all else was not lost. This couldn’t be how my life went. I’d had a taste of something else and I wanted that back more than anything. I had to figure out how not to be the bargaining chip, to be able to walk out this room a free man, while ensuring Ayden and Sophie were safe.

A few minutes of silence passed, everyone weighing up the other, the tension thick in the room. I heard Lucca say my name and I dragged my eyes reluctantly from Shorty. If he felt uncomfortable at all, the bastard refused to show it.

“What?” I snapped as I turned to face the table, locking eyes with Charlie. He sat at the head, of course, asserting his dominance in a showy way that grated on my last nerve. Charlie watched with interest, his hands steepled under his chin as he scanned the table. I was sure I caught a flash of delight flit across his face, but it was wholly understandable, he was just about to walk away with his prize, whatever the fuck it was.

Chrissie was off to his side, but she didn’t look up and for once I couldn’t get a read on her subdued posture. It didn’t really matter anyway; there was absolutely no interest in her. I knew why she had done what she did, Christ, it was as plain as the nose on my face and all I felt was disgust. The scenario had been way different, but in my eyes, she was no better than Shorty in her actions. She hadn’t cared about the consequences, cared for nothing but herself.

“What?” I asked again as Lucca splayed his hands out on the table in front of him. My own were under the table and fisted tight on the top of my thighs, anger simmering as I barely managed to hold myself together.

Lucca tipped his head toward where Shorty was. “That him?” he asked. I didn’t look around just nodded in affirmation. Lucca’s jaw clenched, and he stared over at Charlie. “You protect that piece of shit?”

The old man smiled coyly and stretched his neck, looking at me. “He’ll get me what I want.”

“And what the fuck is it you want?” Ryder asked as he shifted around in his seat with agitation. I didn’t get why he was asking as it was clear what the end game was here. He wanted me, he wanted me with Chrissie, someone to pass the reigns to. He’d harped on about it many a time to whoever would listen.

Charlie waved a hand in my direction. “Oh, come now, you know exactly what I want, Ryder. I’ve already told you.” His grin was all teeth and foul breath. “I want The Q. In return I’ll give you him and let Gripp walk away. That’s your conditions, right?”

Placing his hands on the table, a scandalous grin erupted on his smug face. I had no idea what The Q was, but I fucking wanted Shorty. I didn’t give a damn as to the price, even if it was me. If he gave me my shot at the piece of shit in the corner, I’d sell his goddamned drugs wherever the fuck he wanted and bed down with Chrissie to give him his ‘next generation’. It would be more than worth it.

“The Q?” Ryder asked in disbelief. “That’s what all this is about? A fucking hotel?” He shook his head in disbelief. “That fucker killed a boy I loved, brutally raped a woman who carried his child and you want my fucking hotel?” He banged his fist against the table causing Chrissie to flinch. “You see nothing wrong with that?”

“Shorty’s actions are not on me, son.”

Chrissie’s head whipped up and she looked at her father, puzzled. She really didn’t know. Judging Ryder’s mood, I guaranteed it wasn’t staying secret for much longer.

“Dad?” Chrissie asked.

My eyes roved around the table, wondering who’d speak up first, who was going to be the one to clue her into who the man sitting across from her really was. When I met Chrissie’s pleading eyes, I couldn’t look away. Her confusion made her look younger, softer, her coat of armour melting before my eyes as she processed the word ‘son’.

Shorty laughed, and I turned, spearing him with a look that would have withered others. Not him. My fists clenched on my thighs so hard my nails dug into my palms. I wanted to pummel him, wanted at him so I could inflict some pain on him. Make him feel how my sister had felt, how Jake felt. I wanted him to feel their fear, their loss. I wanted to kill him. The longer I sat there, the more I stewed, the harder I wanted to crack his jaw and bang his head on the ground. He didn’t deserve another breath.

“Jesus. You’re a fucked-up bunch, you know that?”

“Shut your mouth!” I snapped.

I wasn’t a fan of Chrissie, the woman making my stomach curdle, no matter what she’d done for Sophie, but this wasn’t the place to divulge family secrets.

“The Q?” Charlie ignored his daughter, ignored everyone, except Ryder, who was staring at him with utter contempt.

“Shaun walks away for good, no repercussions,” he held up his finger halting Charlie before he could open his mouth. “And we take him,” he pointed to Shorty, “with us.”

A slight nod was all Charlie gave in agreement.

“You’re a fucking cunt!” Shorty screamed across the room.

Having had enough, I flew from my seat and stalked to the corner, towering over Shorty. Swinging my arm back, the punch I threw landed square on his jaw, knocking him back in the chair he was sitting on. Another punch gave a satisfying pop as his nose burst beneath my knuckles, blood gushing down his face. Grinning through bloody teeth, he spat at me, the spatter staining on impact. Another fucking t-shirt ruined, I was getting tired of it.

“Enough!” Ryder’s shout came from behind me. I took two steps back but didn’t return to the table, still eyeballing Shorty. “One more thing.”

I didn’t know what else he could possibly want, I was over it. I was blood thirsty for the fucker wiping his hand down his face, blood dripping down his chin.

“Aren’t the boys enough for you?”

God, I was getting sick of hearing Charlie’s voice, of him calling us boys. I was a grown fucking man at the end of his patience.

“You tell her the truth. Now!” Ryder demanded. I closed my eyes as ice slithered down my back. This wasn’t ending well, and I suddenly felt sorry for Chrissie, she didn’t know what was about to hit her.

“Shaun, come sit down.”

Flexing out my fist, I returned to the table, stuffing myself into the hard chair next to Lucca. He’d asked nicely, after all. I wanted in this man’s good graces again, so I did as I was told. My mental energy was zapping, I’d had enough talking for the day, wanted this over so I could get down to the nitty gritty and take care of business with Shorty, who would be in a wooden box before the first star twinkled in the sky that night.

Ryder pulled his chair closer to Chrissie, who looked at him funny as he did. Charlie coughed, clearly uncomfortable and I wondered if he’d ever planned to tell her. He didn’t exactly treat her like the precious daughter he should have, even if he called her princess, she’d always been a means to an end, did the work Charlie couldn’t because he didn’t have a set of tits. What strings he used to pull her with, I’d never gotten to the bottom of that enigma.

“You leave my drug business alone. I’ll keep it out of your club. But you leave it alone.” I could tell neither Lucca nor Ryder liked the demand, but both agreed anyway. Charlie looked down at his yellow stained fingers and shrugged, like the next words to fall from his mouth were no big deal. “Ryder’s your brother, Chrissie.”

And just like that, the atmosphere in the room changed. Nobody said anything, even the turd in the corner had the decency to keep his mouth shut. I watched the tears spill down Chrissie’s cheeks as she sat without moving a muscle. Time seemed to trip on by at a slow pace, no one sure of the next move. The scraping of Chrissie’s chair made me cringe, it was jarringly loud in the silent room as she stood up.

Looking around the table, she stopped when she found me, studying me for a long moment. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she whispered, swiping at her tears. “I didn’t know you loved him.”

Her exit was swift and final, her apology ringing loudly in my ears. Charlie had probably just ripped her to pieces with one sentence, and she was apologising to me. It was a shit feeling.

“You are such a fucking bastard, Charlie!” Lucca growled. He pulled a thin white envelope from inside his coat pocket and slid it to the middle of the table. Pointing to me, he said, “he’s mine. You don’t come near him again, you get me?”

“Perfectly. He’s a good little bitch. You’ll get your money’s worth, I’m sure.”

I couldn’t even find it in me to be pissed off at his slur, numbness sweeping over me fast.

“Stay away from us all, or I’ll make you one sorry motherfucker. There’s The Q.”

Charlie reached for the envelope, triumph apparent in his movements. “Take Shorty, the fat little fuck was getting on my nerves anyway. Saves me putting the dog down myself.”

Shorty made the mistake of standing up, as if his brain had kicked in to gear and he realised he was the sacrificial lamb so to speak. That was my cue. In a nano second, I was up and out of my seat again, right there in his face, oblivious to the upturning of chairs and raised voices behind me.

I’d had enough, the fucker had made his move, now it was my turn.

Launching myself at him, I thumped him to the concrete floor with a punch to his sorry mess of a face again. Following him down, I fell hard on his chest. With my temper reaching full force, I gathered all my strength and started pummelling at his face. His cries and feeble attempts to buck me off went unheeded and I kept at him, blow after blow, like there was no tomorrow.

I wanted to kill him. No.... I needed to kill him, needed him dead. Needed him to feel the pain he’d left behind. I wasn’t punching for long before being hauled off him and I struggled in someone’s hold until I felt my t-shirt rip. I didn’t give a fuck, I wanted to unleash all my hurts on Shorty, I wanted him to suffer. I struggled with everything I had and slipped the arms that held me to dig right back into Shorty’s body.

With each swing I let out a guttural cry, pierced full of pain. I could hear the force of my hits making contact repeatedly but still, I couldn’t stop. The fight left Shorty and it incensed me. I wanted him to retaliate, to fight back so I had just cause to continue with my assault. Marring his face was simply not going to be enough for me. I was too far gone.

“Shaun. Stop.”

The soft command came from behind me; even over the roar in my ears I heard it, and I ceased my attack immediately. Don’t ask me why, because I had nothing running through my head except fucking up Shorty.

“Stop.”

His voice came again as I lifted my hands in front of my face. Seeing them drenched in blood disgusted me, and I clenched my eyes shut, letting the sound of his voice settle through me. I sat there, heaving in gulps of air to centre myself enough to make sense of the situation. The room was silent but for gurgled spurts coming from Shorty. Not noises I particularly cared about, if he choked on his own blood it wouldn’t have been too soon.

“Shaun.”

The sound of his voice saying my name a brought me crashing back down to reality and I spun my head around searching the room for the eyes I would gladly spend an eternity drowning in.

There they were.

He was standing at the door to the room looking over at me despondently. For the second time in the last few weeks, I felt utter shame in my actions. I couldn’t look at him anymore; he wasn’t meant to see this side of me ever. Bowing my head, my body slumped forward, and tears sprang, I couldn’t blink them away quick enough, they rolled down my face, dripping off my chin as I hurt all over again. I didn’t care who saw, I couldn’t keep them at bay.

Not like this, please...

Uncertainness enveloped me, threatening to suffocate me where I sat, to snuff out my already squeezed heart. Self-loathing reared its ugly head and took up residence inside when I finally grasped we were worlds apart.

This could never be his life; I didn’t want this for him. How could he want me by his side after all that had passed between us? All the hurts I’d brought his way? If I’d thought my heart was done before, I was so wrong, I swear I felt it shred a thousand times more as I peered down at the bloody mess of the man barely breathing beneath me.

I needed to get the fuck out of there.

Jumping up; the need to self-destruct in my own private hell without spectators, clawed at me. Pushing past everyone, I made my way toward the door where he stood, staggering, and wiping my bloody hands on the bottom of my t shirt as I went. I didn’t dare look up, kept heading forward. Reaching for the handle of the door, his hand gripped my wrist hard, preventing me from fleeing. I tried to shrug out of his grasp, but he held steady and I was too exhausted to fight anymore.

“Shaun,” he whispered, “look at me.”

I warred with myself, so very much wanting to see him, fearing it would be the last time, but nowhere near ready to confront the contempt I presumed was written on his face. Ignoring him, I stood rooted to the spot, not knowing what to do next.

“What do you want?” I gritted out, injecting some unconvincing venom into my words.

There was no anger toward Ayden; yet he had every right to despise me. If I’d been on the receiving end of what he had been, I would have acted the same way. Truth was, it hurt too much to stand there with him like this. Covered in blood and tumbling toward one of the lowest points of my life. I wasn’t standing there snivelling like a little bitch and hanging on his every breath, showing my weakness to the whole goddamned room.

“What the fuck do you want, Ayden?” I asked again, steeling my back, standing up taller, I pushed my walls up higher and met him eye for eye with a determination I didn’t rightly feel.

His fingers loosened from around my wrist and he let go, taking a step back. Then he smiled at me, fucking smiled at me like all was right in the world and I hadn’t just beaten a guy half to death. Like he didn’t care what he just saw me do.

Like he loved me.

Like he really loved me.

It was too much. I snatched at the handle pulling sharply at the door, getting the fuck out of there. I didn’t care anymore; had no energy in me to worry about him right then. It was time to leave.

Scrubbing my hands down my face I walked out into the sunshine not giving a shit who was looking at the man covered in blood. I headed for Monty’s, not planning on thinking coherently in an hours’ time.

My day was done.

The dark eddies swirling underneath were beckoning, pulling me under and for once, I found comfort in the shadowy depths.