Chapter 16
I sneak out of the clubhouse and run out front to Vice’s truck that’s been sitting here all week. I know where my dad’s staying and I’m going to end this once and for all. I’m tired of this shit. He doesn’t love me. He didn’t welcome me into his MC like the Angels. He just wants to own me; my every thought, and movement.
I pull out my phone and call the number I never thought I would dial again.
“Denton,” he answers.
“Hi Daddy,” I say dripping sarcasm.
“Oh well, there is my princess! Or should I say Angel?” he chuckles.
“Call me what you want as long as it isn’t family.”
“Ohh, you still have that mouth I see. Damn, I was hoping Nate cured you of that foul tongue,” he tsks.
“Nate who?” I snark.
“What did you do?” he grits out.
“How about we talk in person, yeah? I’ll be in the alley in ten. Come alone,” I say and then hang up.
I turn my phone off so the Angels can’t trace it, if they haven’t already.
I pull up in front of the candy store in town. I reach my hand around to the back of my pants, and touch my blades to ground myself.
I throw my door open and step out. My hands and arms are still covered in blood. My lavender purple shirt is now a dark purple, blood soaking it. My hair is blowing in the wind and I tilt my head up to the sky before I head to someone’s death. Either mine or his. After this, he won’t be able to hurt me anymore. He won’t have any power over me any longer.
I think about sending Vice an ‘I love you’ text, but it's better this way. He needs to keep his family safe, his brotherhood. They need him more than he realizes.
I walk to the alley my dad takes his hostages to set them loose when he gets what he needs out of them while he’s in town. Well, the ones he doesn’t kill anyway.
As I turn the corner and enter the alley, I see my dad, flanked by one of his guards.
I laugh and shake my head.
“What’s the matter, Daddy? Scared to meet your little girl by yourself?” I taunt.
“No, Schuyler, he is here for your protection, not mine.” His eyes roam over me as I walk closer. I stop next to a dumpster and lean my hip against it, crossing my arms over my chest. “You finally look like the daughter I raised, well, minus that shit cut you’re wearing.” His nose turns up in disgust.
I take my hand and run my fingers over my Angel patch and let myself feel for a second. Let the love those members have for me, the love the Strykers did not, fill my soul.
“I look like the daughter you raised because of the blood on my hands?” I ask in an emotionless voice, holding my hands out. “I might be wearing it, Denton, but this blood is on your hands.”
“The blood of many, my angel,” he says like it should be obvious.
My lip snarls at the fact he called me his angel.
“Don’t call me your angel. I will never be yours. The Fallen Angels have more of my respect in the short time I’ve known them, than you ever had all my life. You think you guys are this big bad MC with everyone’s respect. You’re not, though. People revolt at the thought of you. Fear is what keeps them in line, because the fear of losing someone you love is a huge motivator. I’ve learned that in the last few weeks, well months really, the Angels are more respected than you ever will be. They have me, not you.”
He chuckles, his face contorting into anger. One thing my father never was good at, was masking his emotions. I learned, at a very young age, that I had to or else he would dictate everything.
“Oh, but I will have you back.” He snaps his fingers and his bodyguard starts to walk to me.
He smiles a menacing smile and reaches out and grabs a handful of my hair. I rip my head back out of his reach, pulling a chunk of my hair out of my head, and he chuckles.
“Schuyler, just let him get ahold of you. There is only one of you. There are two of us. Stop being so dramatic,” my father calls out while looking at his phone.
I reach behind me and pull out my blades. Quick as lightning, I throw them at the same time in two different directions. One goes right between the eyes on my father, and the other gets his bodyguard in the neck, both blades buried to the hilt.
Adrenaline is pumping through my veins, my head throbbing. I put my hands on my knees and bend over for a second. I gulp air as I try to calm myself down.
I right myself and walk over to my dad. His eyes are already glazed over with death and I sigh.
“How’s that for dramatic, Daddy?” I say as I bend over and pull my blade from his face.
I hear shuffling. When I stand up, but before I can turn around to investigate it, a gun goes off and searing pain radiates through my arm and chest.
I drop to my knees and look at my arm. When I see the blood running down, dripping off my fingers, I have to think of the irony. My blood mixing with the bloodshed I caused earlier. This is bittersweet, me dying the same moment my father does. At least Vice and our Angels will be safe.
Right before the world goes black, I hear the most perfect angel screaming my name with so much heartache, I can feel his pain in my chest. I will die today knowing what true love feels like. That love that surrounds your soul in a warming light. Where the world isn’t cold, and the rules are not outlined in black and white.
Where the only vice you have to choose, is love. The only truth.