Nate
Racing down the street, I’m going fast, way too fucking fast. I hit the brakes a little, the back end of the car screeching and kicking out. I fight with the rumble of the steering wheel to get it under control. My heart hammers loudly in my chest and I pull the car over. I shouldn’t be driving, I can’t fucking focus. I pull to the side of the country road, throwing open the door and falling from the seat. Adrenaline and anger course through me. I’m shaking violently as I try to get up from all fours. Only I can’t. The image of Tara, standing in front of me, the pain of her broken heart evident in her beautiful eyes, flashes over and over.
I’m weak.
Pathetic.
A fucked-up man, controlled by his father.
Finally pushing myself from the ground, I slump against the car as I contemplate what the fuck I’m going to do. If Jeffries finds out what happened, what I just did, he’ll gut me until I’m squealing like a pig. All I’ve ever known is the MC. Doesn’t mean I have to like it. Doesn’t mean I have to agree to every fucking rule they set before me.
“Argggghhh.” I let out a loud growl of frustration. Balling my fist, I rear back, hitting out at the window on the car. Over and over my knuckles connect with the glass. I’m like some maniac as I stand there, screaming, hitting the glass repeatedly, until it finally shatters. My fist throbs and blood spills onto the ground. I step back, shaking out my hand, watching as blood splatters everywhere, but I’m numb. I can’t feel the pain. It doesn’t sting, despite it being cut up. And I know it’s because the pain I feel inside out-fucking-weighs any physical sort of pain.
Standing in the middle of the road I just stare. Stare at my clenched fist. I have to go. I need to get back. Jeffries will wonder where I am. How my meeting with Brax was. After pulling me out of the deal with Brax, he finally changed his mind and gave into Brax’s demands to work with me and only me. Only, I can’t deal with the motherfucker who seems hell bent on ruining my fucking life. But, if I don’t return soon, he’ll send out the fucking search party for me. I move quickly, drop back into the car, slam the door shut, and rev the engine once more. I hate the fucking car, but my wonderful father insisted. Give me the goddamn bike any day.
Finally pulling up outside the house, I cut the engine, step out of the car, and dig in my pockets for my cigarettes. I need something, anything that can take away the edge. Cigarettes aren’t gonna do jack, but for now it’s all I got. I hold the flame to the tip of the cigarette and inhale the smoke; the familiar warmth fills my lungs.
“Took your fucking time, didn’t ya?” His voice causes my eyes to roll. I turn, offering him a fleeting, fake smile.
“Dad,” I say with a tip of my head.
“What the fuck happened here?” His hand points to the smashed window. I think quickly, hoping to give a reason why my knuckles are fucked as well as the window.
“Some kid tried breaking into the car. Don’t worry, he came off much worse,” I say, holding up my fist. His eyes widen, then narrow on me.
“Well, who was it?”
“I have no idea,” I reply, taking another drag of the cigarette.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” His voice is low, and his gaze is hard on me.
“Back the fuck up,” I warn him. “Some kid. Some kid I’ve never seen before, that’s all.”
“That’s all,” he chirps. “I want it fixed. Tomorrow, Nate.” He points his finger at me, before spinning on his heel and striding toward the door.
“I’ll take it to the garage, get Jarvis to fix it,” I call after him. I watch as he walks away only to stop and glance back at me.
“Come on, fucker. We need to talk business. And parties. Mostly business, but you know, the party is important too.” He chuckles like what he said amused him. Flicking the cigarette to the ground, I follow him into the house. As soon as I’m inside, I spot Jarvis and give him the key to the car, letting him know it needs to be fixed.
I race up the stairs and make my way to my room. Digging into my pocket, I retrieve the key for my door. The only way to keep anything fucking safe in this place. My body shakes and I need something. Something that will make whatever he wants to talk about a little more bearable. I drop to my knees, digging under my mattress for the one thing that is sure to take the edge off long enough for me to deal with this asshole. Pulling out the white substance, I turn to the table just beside my bed. Pouring out the white powder, I grab the deck of cards, pulling one from the pack. Scraping, I make a neat line before grabbing a twenty-dollar bill from my pocket. Rolling it up, I press one end just inside my nostril, the other lined up against the end of the line. Holding one nostril closed, I inhale deeply, sweeping the dollar bill over the line, snorting the white powder. As soon as I taste it at the back of my throat, the effects kick in. I sit up, feeling flushed and completely euphoric. Like my senses are on high alert. I jump to my feet, ready to tackle whatever shit Dad has to throw at me. Coke always takes the edge off. Makes me forget the bleak. At least until the come-down. Swiping my hand over the remaining powder, I get rid of any evidence before heading out of my room. Locking the door, I turn and make my way down the stairs and into the main room where we hang out. It has a bar, pool tables, and walls lined with photos of all crew members. Like a damn hall of fame.
Running the back of my hand under my nose, I make sure I’m clean before entering. Although it’s not against the MC code, I know Dad will be pissed if he catches on that I’m using to cover shit up. Which is exactly what is happening.
Striding into the room with my newfound, artificial confidence, I stroll over to the couch, dropping in beside Dad who sits firmly in the armchair. Each hand rests on an arm, his chin high, eyes focused on me. Meeting his eyes, I pull one leg over the other before digging into my jean pocket to retrieve my cigarettes.
“So.” His voice bellows. “How did it go?” he asks with a tip of his head. “The meeting with Brax.”
“Casual,” I reply, gripping the cigarette between my teeth while I fidget, trying to get the lighter from my back pocket.
“Here,” he roars, my head snapping at him as the metal lighter hits me hard on the chest.
“Fuck,” I grumble, grabbing it from my lap and igniting the flame, holding it to the end of my cigarette.
“So…” He leans forward, his hands now intertwined, his jaw resting on his clenched fists. “What about the cargo? Did he say when it will arrive?”
Taking a drag, I dip out my tongue wetting my suddenly dry lips. “He’s in talks with Marty Musella about getting everything we asked for.”
“When?” he growls. “Give me something to fucking work on here. Shit.” He sighs, reaching for his knife that lies before him on the table. Twirling it between his fingers, he drops the tip on to the table, cutting into the dark wooden coffee table. Swirling it in his fingers, he works the blade further and further into the wood.
“We didn’t talk dates. There has never been any urgency on our part.”
Drawing back his hand, he rears up the knife, driving it down against the table. “Wrong fucking assumption.”
“I’ll handle it,” I quickly reply. “First thing tomorrow, I’ll get something firm from him.”
“Tonight, Nate. You had tonight, and you fucking failed. Always fucking failing me.” His tone lowers, and his eyes narrow on me. I don’t mistake the look he gives me. It’s one I’ve seen a thousand times before. The look of disappointment.
“I made this business work between us and Brax. Me, Dad. Me,” I yell, stubbing my thumb against my chest. “I’ve never let you down yet.”
Adjusting his posture, but never breaking the connection he has with my eyes, he rolls back his shoulders. “That’s not really the truth though is it, boy?” He squints so intensely; I can barely see his eyes.
“Don’t have a clue what you’re fucking talking about.”
“I think you do,” he says, pushing himself up from the chair. Stepping closer, my eyes dart to the bodies standing just behind him. Silver, Matteo, Roach, and Davo, all stand behind him.
“The fuck…” I all but gasp as my dad leans over me, his hand landing heavily on my throat. Squeezing with all of his might, I struggle to breathe.
“I gave you a fucking order, rat boy.” He reaches for my hand, grabbing for the cigarette.
“Get the fuck off me,” I choke out, my words barely audible.
“You were with her tonight.”
My heart stops beating. Somehow he knows. Which means I’m being followed.
“She is promised to me. She just doesn’t know yet.” His words come out as a snarl, his lips pulled back and his teeth all on show. “How can I have you, my only son, living under my roof if you can’t keep your fucking hands off what is mine?”
Holding the cigarette in his hands, he slowly moves it closer to my face. Pushing my head down against the back of the couch, he forces the end of the smoking cigarette against the skin of my cheek. I groan and clench my eyes as the burning sensation takes over all of my sensations. The smell of my flesh burning stings my nostrils.
“I’ll kill you before I let the two of you be together.” He screeches his clear warning into my ear before releasing his clamped hand from my throat. Instantly coughing and spluttering, I hold my hand against my cheek. He turns, grabbing his knife from the table and points it directly at me. “I’ll slice your fucking chest open and rip out that damn heart of yours.”
The adrenaline pumps the blood around my body at a million miles an hour. I press back into the couch, trying to put some distance between the tip of the blade and my face. There is nothing I can say. Nothing that will make any of this go away. He fucking knows. I can’t deny that shit and trying would be a certain death sentence.
“I need to hear you say it.”
“Say what?” I ask with a slight lift of my shoulders.
“That you understand she is mine and you will keep your filthy fucking hands off of her.” He speaks slowly, like he’s patronizing some damn child.
“I got it. Okay.” I hold up my hands in a mock surrender. “You want her, she’s all yours. But don’t forget, Dad, I went there first. If you're happy with my sloppy seconds, be my guest.”
His fist hitting the side of my face snaps my head to the side. I straighten up, looking at him as if to question if that’s all he’s got.
Turning to the guys behind him, giving them a nod, he says, “Teach him a lesson he ain’t never gonna forget.” He turns on his heel, storming out of the room and the guys surround me. Hands are on me before I can open my mouth to reason with them.
“Guys…” I force out as they drag me to my feet. “You don’t want to do this.” My voice is calm, and my gaze meets Silver's.
“Just doin’ what we’re told. Should fucking try it sometime.”
“This is bullshit and you know it,” I yell at them, but they don’t falter, not even for a second. They obey my father, no questions asked. Only, these motherfuckers should know that when my father is no longer running the show, the responsibility falls to me. MC rules. Unless someone tries to overthrow me.
The tip of my boots drag against the wooden floor as they lead me to the sliding doors which lead to the back yard. The back of the clubhouse meets a small ravine. I spent hours there as a child. You could call it our safe place to escape when things weren’t pretty. Which was most of the time.
My mind races with thoughts of what is coming. If they were going to beat my ass why bring me outside? My eyes flit between the three men. They are all the senior members of the club. Ones I’ve known all of my pathetic existence, and this certainly isn’t the first beating I’ve had from them.
“Tonight, my little pussy motherfucker, we’re playing a game,” Silver says with a deep-throated chuckle. “It’s one of my absolute favorites.”
Digging my heel into the ground below, I force us to a stop. My teeth clenched together, I narrow my eyes on the silver-haired man standing in front of me. “Be careful, old man.”
“Careful isn’t really my fucking style, boy. You should know that.” There’s no denying that Silver is one of the craziest motherfuckers I’ve ever met. He laughs like a maniac and certainly acts like one. There are no morals where Silver is concerned. But he’s loyal to my father. Always is and always has been.
“And when my father is no longer here?” I snap my arms from the men as all eyes are on me, and I know I have their attention. “Who will you be loyal to then?” I ask with a lift of my chin.
“You?” He points his huge finger at me. “You think you’ll be the next Savage to rule us motherfuckers?” He holds up his hands, gesturing toward the clubhouse. Slowly dipping his head, he moves his face until it stops right in front of me. “Your father knows you’re not fit enough to run this. Hell, you’re no son of his. You’re just a whore’s mistake. Should never have been any more than a stain on the fucking mattress.”
The familiar feeling of anger swells inside me. It’s the anger deep within that has driven me to kill, to do things I’m ashamed of. Only, this time it bubbles ferociously, and it’s all aimed at this sick fucker standing in front of me. Leaning forward, I charge toward him, my arms wrapping around his waist as I take him down to the ground. I’m on him before I know what to do. I rear back my already sore, clenched fist, punching him over and over, connecting with his nose. But it doesn’t last. Hands grab my shoulders, pulling me off him before I can really do the damage my anger wants to execute.
“You little cunt,” he spits out, rolling on to all fours before pushing to his feet. “Bad move. Real bad fucking move, pussy.” He spits his abuse at me while the guys behind me hold back my arms tightly. He swipes the back of his hand against his nose, glancing down at the blood staining his hand.
Forcing me over to the fence that runs the perimeter of the yard, they thrust me against it.
“You need to learn respect,” Silver growls as his fist connects with my stomach, knocking the wind out of my lungs. I lurch forward, my arm covering where he made the connection. Silencing the pain and all of my emotion, I don’t let a sound slip from my mouth. I wouldn’t let them know I’m hurting, at least not verbally. I force myself upward again, regaining my earlier posture. My brows furrow as I give them a look of disgust. Although I know they’re only following orders, it seems these cocksuckers are enjoying every fucking minute of this.
“Get him secured,” Silver instructs, throwing a loop of rope toward Davo. He works quickly to secure my arms to the poles of the fence. Both arms are at full stretch, and there is nothing I can do to fight them. Four on one is no good without a weapon. And even with a weapon, killing his men, my wonderful father’s, would mean one thing.
Death.
And I’m not giving that fucker the satisfaction.
Shackled to the fence, I stand my ground. Without fear in my eye, I glare at the four men standing in front of me.
“So… darts it is.” He laughs, digging into his back pocket, pulling out a pack of playing darts. You know, like the ones you fire at a dart board. Only, tonight, I’m the board.
“Step back, step back,” he instructs with a wave of his arm. “Roach,” he says, pausing for a second. “No fucking cheating.”
They all laugh raucously. But most of all, it’s clear that Silver is getting a kick out of this. The look of achievement and excitement glimmers in his eyes, even in the dark. Twirling the dart slowly between his finger and thumb, he stills, holding his arm ready to take his shot.
“Come on, fucker,” I scream, goading him to take his shot.
“Oh, don’t you worry, Nate. Imma take my shot alright.” Flicking out his wrist, I hold my breath, waiting for it to make a connection. My eyes dart down to my shoulder as I feel the tip of the dart pierce my skin. Only, this pain is nothing for me. I get a kick out of tattoos. A little prick to my skin is nothing.
“Come on, man. This don’t seem right,” Matteo says, but Silver ignores him, his laugh echoing through the yard.
“I’m just warming up,” Silver replies, stretching his neck from side to side like he’s warming up for the fight of his life. Straightening, he stills again, pulling back his wrist and taking another shot. This time, the dart lands in my stomach, causing me to jolt back a little.
“Fuck, Silver,” Roach says, slapping him heavily on the back. “Stop toying with him and let’s get this over and done with.”
“Last one,” Silver replies, holding the dart in front of the guys before spinning on the spot and throwing it one last time. The dart spears toward me, cutting into the skin on my neck and I hold back the yelp.
“Yes,” Silver cheers. “Saved the best for last,” he replies with a sound of achievement in his tone. But I don’t falter. I stand there, glaring at them as they play their stupid little games. Jeering and laughter fills my senses, but hatred pumps the blood around my body.
Silver will regret this.
Maybe not today.
But one day.
I will make him pay.
I’ll mark his cards and have my revenge.
Their loud voices lower to whispers and I tilt my head, listening to get an idea of what they are plotting. Only I can’t hear anything. Grass crunches under the feet of all four men as they move toward me. Stopping just in front of me, Silver's hand lunges forward, snapping the three darts embedded in my skin.
“I couldn’t help but notice you never flinched once, Nate.”
With a slight shrug, I shake my head, keeping my mouth shut and offering no response.
“It’s a little cold tonight, don’t you think?” He tilts his head, his eyes dancing with amusement. “I think we should start a little fire. What you reckon, guys?” He turns around getting the approval of the other men, but they remain silent. I glance at them, sadness in their eyes. Digging out his lighter, Silver flicks his thumb over the wheel, igniting the huge flame. It roars in front of his face, his hand reaching for something on the ground. Flipping back the lid, he cuts off the flame, holding it in one hand as he opens the lid to the small canister. Tipping it out in front of me, he splashes what I now know is gasoline at my feet.
“Think it’s time to start a little fire, don’t you?” he asks, a smirk dressing his aged lips. Tossing the lighter into the air, he catches it in his hand, and in one smooth move, he flicks back the lid and ignites it once more. Bellowing laughter escapes him as he drops the lighter to the ground. “Ooops,” he gasps playfully as it connects with the gasoline and ignites.
The gasoline ignites, flames spread on the ground around my feet.
“No,” I choke out, the smell of the burning gasoline stings my nostrils. “You don’t want to do this.” I yell out my pathetic warning. Only it’s too late. Tugging at the rope that fastens me to the fence, I attempt to free myself, yet, I can’t. I shuffle my feet back as much as I can, avoiding the heat from the fast-spreading flames. My body heats up as the fire grows closer to my feet. It isn’t just the fire that has me feeling hot, it’s the panic that’s rising. Are they really going to kill me? Swallowing the lump in my throat, I close my eyes, hoping for some sort of miracle. Despite the crackle of the flames beneath my feet, I hear Silver laughing and jeering as I struggle to stop myself from catching on fire. I use the sole of my boot to stamp on the flames that are getting dangerously close.
Only it doesn’t work.
The hem of my jeans catches fire and before I know it, the flames have ignited on my legs.
“Fuck,” I roar, my heart thudding so hard I’m sure it’s going to break through my damn chest. Shaking my leg like crazy, I try to kill the flame, the feel of the fire burning my legs is almost too much to take. The previous smell of gasoline replaced with the putrid smell of burning flesh. Clenching my teeth together, I tilt my head, trying to steady my rapid breathing.
“Enough,” I roar, my voice echoing through the night air.
“Ooh, he’s had enough,” Silvers taunts wickedly.
“Seriously, man. How long are we going to leave him?” Davo asks, but Silver doesn’t respond. He laughs, digging his hand into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and dropping to the ground, holding the tip to the flame. Placing it loosely in his lips, he takes a drag, smoke pluming around him.
“This is getting out of control.” Davo steps forward, as if he’s about to approach me. Silver shoots to his feet, the palm of his hand landing flat on Davo’s chest.
“Back the fuck up…” Silver spits at him.
“No.” He pushes him with force on his chest. “It’s time to end this.” Barreling past Silver, he storms toward me, slipping out the knife he has in his belt and slicing across the ropes around my wrist.
“You fucking traitor,” Silver screams at Davo, saliva flying from his mouth. Cutting through the second lot of rope, I’m finally free. Staggering away from the fire, I drop to the ground, rolling to kill the flames eating away at my jeans. The wounds sting so fucking much. I rest up on my elbows, scared to look at the mess my legs are in. Sure enough, the skin around my ankles is red and swollen.
“Fuck, fuck. Fuck,” I grumble, trying to unfasten the belt to my jeans. I have to get them off, I can feel them sticking to the wounds. Standing, I slide down the jeans, but it’s no good. The damage to my legs is too bad. Vomit stings my throat as I force it back down.
“Teach him a lesson,” he roars. “That’s exactly what I did, jackass. You don’t get to tell me I went too far. Not now, not ever.”
“Teach him a lesson, not let him burn to death, fuck nugget. You nearly killed him. Kid don’t deserve that.”
“You don’t get to decide what he deserves and what he don’t. You ain’t the boss.”
“Boss would not have wanted this,” Roach adds calmly. “You went too far, Silver. Too fucking far.”
“He’ll live, won’t he?” he replies in a taut voice, like he realizes what he’s done.
“Yeah, thanks to me,” Davo spits back, stepping toward me and kneeling down in front of me.
“Can’t get them off,” I grate out.
“We need to get you to the hospital, kid.” Wrapping his arm around my waist, he pulls me to my feet and guides me around the side of the house and out the front. “Should put a cool towel on those burns,” he says, his eyes travelling toward the location of the burns.
“No, man,” I decline vehemently. “Just get me to the hospital.”
“You okay riding bitch? Your legs look pretty fucking bad, bro.”
And they are bad. Pain sears through my legs, and my stomach knots as the pain increases in waves. Each peak makes the nausea worse. The pain lies so deep beneath the skin, stinging and burning that I know I need to get to the hospital. And fast.
“I don’t see we have any other choice,” I force out, knowing the only car we have has gone to be fixed, thanks to me attacking the back window.
“Jump the fuck on then.” He nods towards his Harley and I try to lift my leg over but the pain sears through me.
“I don’t think I can get my leg over.” I shake my head, frustrated as hell, pain spiking once more.
“We gotta get you on this damn bike somehow.” He forces out a laugh. “Here, let me help.” Grabbing my boot, he slowly guides my leg over, letting it rest gently. “Done," he sings, brushing his palms together before jumping on the front. “Imma take it slow, okay, kid? But I’ll have to drop you at the door. I can’t be seen taking sides, you get me?”
“Thanks.” I whisper my reply.