Never in my life had I been filled with so much hate.
My house was no longer a home. It was a jail where a thick sense of dread and death would fill my lungs as soon as I inhaled the musty, smoke-filled air when I walked through the doors.
“Mom?” I called out to her by habit, as if she would answer. Some things were too ingrained to stop doing, although she had stopped answering me years ago. Unless she needed more drugs.
Then she’d answer.
This time, she didn’t. So I closed the front door behind me and dropped my eyes to avoid seeing the collection of pill bottles and ashtrays that I knew would be littered across every inch of our worn and chipped wooden coffee table.
I dropped my purse on the table in the hallway and headed toward the kitchen to see if she’d eaten any of the food I’d left out for her the night before when I had a client.
My steps were slow, as if someone had filled my shoes with lead. My body ached. Not physically, but emotionally. Nothing felt right anymore. I hadn’t felt anything since I had turned my back on Ryker and walked away from him almost a week ago.
My heavy laden footsteps froze when I hit the kitchen doorway at the back of our house. To my surprise, tears suddenly blurred my vision. How could I still be crying over a woman who had been nothing but a constant disappointment to me for my entire life?
That well should have dried up a long time ago. But occasionally on days like today when I saw her slouched over, her forehead resting on the kitchen table while she was passed out with a mirrored tray and fine, white dust smeared over it, emotions surfaced.
The first time I saw my mom passed out on the floor, I thought she was dead.
Now, I wasn’t surprised by the cocaine remnants on my kitchen counter and table.
A quick glance in the fridge and in the pantry told me she hadn’t eaten any of the meals or protein bars I’d made sure were highly visible to her.
She was like that, now. Ever since the cocaine appeared on the scene, her penchant for remembering to feed herself with any actual substance had diminished. It showed in the way her now, too-large clothes hung on her shrinking frame. It showed in the way her eyes looked like they were sinking back into her skull.
She was dying before my eyes.
And I was still alive, but felt the same as she looked.
I walked to my mom and pushed her dull and graying hair behind her ear. My fingers rested on her pulse on her throat to make sure she was still alive.
Then I left the room. I grabbed my purse on the way upstairs to shower and washed the stench of last night’s man off of me.
I spent the rest of the afternoon packing for Sturgis Motorcycle Rally. The club made me go every year. It was my job, along with several other women, to be “available” for the men as needed during the week.
My limbs heated. Bile rose in my throat and my fingers shook as I packed my small suitcase, knowing few clothes would be needed.
Without realizing, I went to wipe my hair out of my eyes only to come back with the back of my hand wet.
Tears.
They were such a fucking waste.
I squeezed my eyes closed and collapsed onto the edge of the bed. I sobbed into my hands and my shoulders shook with grief.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Ryker. About his promise to free me. About the way his lips felt against mine as he took control of my body. The body I willingly gave to him when I knew I shouldn’t. I knew at the time it would only end with a further severed heart on my part, and I had been correct.
Kissing Ryker, seeing Ryker, and touching him had affected me more in the last week emotionally than I’d anything else I’d felt in the last five years.
He ruined me in the best way possible.
Except only once I was away from him did I realize that without him, I was ruined in the worst way possible.
My ringing cell snapped me out of my self-induced misery. Cringing when I saw the caller, I answered it with a trembling voice. Not that Cain cared or noticed when his vile voice came through the line.
“I see you found a new way to ensure my compliance,” I told him, thinking of my mom downstairs. Fuck Cain. He had continued to get her hooked on deeper and darker shit and she simply opened her mouth like a baby bird and took whatever he gave her. And he did it only to prove that he could kill her whenever he wanted. He could lace her drugs with poison, and she’d smile and say thank you.
I suppose I was no different. She was a whore for drugs. I was just a whore.
His greasy voice sounded thrilled, even pleased, with himself. “Only the best for you and your mom.”
I suppressed my retort, knowing if I spoke it, I’d pay the punishment for it later.
“What do you want, Cain?” With my patience and my earlier emotions long gone, I began pacing the small open space in my bedroom. Four steps one way, four steps the other.
“Mills is on his way to get you. Don’t forget the rules we discussed at the rally this week. You wouldn’t want anything to happen, would you?”
My top lip curled, and I was thankful he couldn’t see my disgust for him. It’d give him a hard-on. He probably had one now, but at least over the phone I didn’t have to take care of it.
“I understand,” I gritted out. My hands squeezed the life out of my cell phone.
“Good,” he said, happily again. “Then we’ll be able to enjoy ourselves this week. Be a good girl, Faith.”
I hung up. He would hit me for it later, but I was quickly losing my ability to give a shit about what Cain thought or wanted from me. Punishments be damned. If this was my life, I would go out on my terms. Death would be a reprieve for me.
The rally was loud. Not that I was able to enjoy any of it, but the new scenery and the sounds of the bands in the distance at least allowed me to pretend that I had been free for the last few days.
Currently, I was sitting on a barstool in one of the same, small, non-air-conditioned bars encased between Mill’s legs. He was overweight, sweaty, and drunk. A perfect trifecta for a night of hell for me.
I tensed as his large hands pawed at my thighs. The short skirt I was wearing barely covered my ass. I had thrown it on that morning, knowing what I’d be expected to do—again—but I wore it because it reminded me of the day, only a few simple weeks ago, when I’d been allowed to hang out with Olivia, my one-time best friend.
I hadn’t been able to see her or talk to her since she’d been shot.
Seeing the skirt had made me smile—slightly, but it had happened—I had felt my lips spread upward a minute amount so I threw the skirt on. Anything to make me feel better helped.
Some days, I couldn’t believe so much had changed in a few short weeks. Three weeks ago, I was working at Penny’s, taking my clients, and doing my job and it had all felt manageable. Depressing—but survivable.
Then, Ryker showed up in my doorway, and suddenly, barely surviving was no longer enough. The problem I faced was I had no idea how to get away from my sentence, and I wasn’t sure life would be any better if I was.
What was there to do in life once your mom sold you to become a whore? Any aspirations I’d had years ago of a simple life with a family were long gone.
“I’m ready to go,” Mills said, standing up from the stool and wrapping his arm around me. It was the middle of the afternoon and he’d been drinking since before the sun rose, if he had even bothered stopping when it had set the night before. He was slow on his feet, and his beer breath made me turn my head away.
I, on the other hand, hadn’t had nearly enough. But I played my role. Pushing a hand to his chest, for one to give me space and also because he liked it when I touched him, I smiled. “Just one more shot, Mills?”
He dipped his head, and his thick tongue ran along my neck. My shoulders tensed, but he was too drunk to notice my disdain.
“Whatever you want, Diamond.”
His words were slurred. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, cursing myself for ever choosing that name.
After I slammed back two straight shots of vodka, I finally allowed Mills to take my hand and lead me out of the bar.
The bright afternoon sunshine blinded me as soon as we stepped outside. I squeezed my eyes closed to give myself time to adjust to the piercing sky, but then stumbled on my high heels.
“C’mon, hooker,” Mills growled, pulling my elbow and walking faster. Spit flew from his mouth. I pulled back, wiping it off my face.
“Slow down, Mills.” I instantly knew it was a mistake to talk back to him. Not only did it turn him on when I argued, but it pissed him off, too.
He spun on me, letting go of my elbow, and I stumbled back a step. When I regained my balance, he was in my face and clutching at the waistband of my skirt. “You want me to take your pussy here on the streets for everyone to see?”
I hated him. I fucking hated the asshole in front of me. My cheeks burned with rage and my small hands curled into fists. He noticed and grinned.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
I swallowed and remembered where I was. Black Death territory at the rally. No one would say anything if he actually followed through with what he threatened. Something rose up in me, though, and I was tired of acquiescing to all of their demands.
I may have been a whore and theirs to use however and whenever they wanted, but I was still a damn person and should have been treated with a modicum of respect. Never had I battled for it, and I didn’t know why I was choosing to do it now.
“You disgust me,” I growled in his face. Mills was large and sweaty. He towered over me with his lip curled in desire and anger. “And the only reason you have sex with me is because you know there’s no one else on the planet that would spread their legs for you…”
The back of his hand was on my cheekbone in a flash. Pain radiated from my cheek to my forehead and down to my chest. My feet collapsed from underneath me as I fell to the ground.
“Get up, you fucking whore!” He shouted it, but I could barely hear his voice over the ringing in my ears.
I licked my bottom lip and tasted blood, when suddenly I heard a female voice shouting my name.
“Faith!”
I closed my eyes and embarrassment flooded me, knowing Olivia had witnessed Mills smack the shit out of me. What would she think of me now?
I sunk onto my ass on the concrete and took deep breaths, but nothing stopped the pain from pulsating all over my cheek. I smelled and felt blood dripping down my cheek.
I saw her footsteps quickly approach us and she stopped right in front of me and Mills. I wanted to tell her to run away before he hit her too, but my jaw hurt too much to open. Damn it. Did he break my jaw?
“What in the hell is wrong with you? You don’t hit a fucking woman, damn it!” Olivia shouted at Mills as if he couldn’t crush her under his boot in a second. I wanted to smile, but damn, the pain. Black dots swam in my vision.
“Watch your mouth, Nordic cock sucker,” Mills sneered at Olivia.
My stomach churned. I had to get her away from him before Mills really did hurt her. It would cause a war between two clubs that already hated one another. Daemon would see to it for certain.
Another man approached, one I didn’t know, but based on his accent, he was Finn, the Australian, Olivia had told me about.
I looked up briefly to see she hadn’t been wrong in her description of him. Sexy and accented. He was incredible.
I just wanted to get out of there. Quickly. Which was why when Olivia crouched down and asked me if I was okay, I ignored her. Cain would be pissed and I would be punished once he found out I was having anything to do with Nordic Lords.
He’d lose his shit once he found out they tried to protect me on his street.
I closed my eyes, my vision still blurred, as Olivia pulled me to my feet.
She wiped my cheek, and I finally found my voice. “You need to leave.”
“Listen to the whore, little girl. Nordic Lords don’t own her. We do.”
Olivia wasn’t to be stopped as she slowly wiped my cheek and said, “Let me clean you up.”
I raised my eyes to hers and saw hers only filled with pity. No one wanted to be pitied. “Go home, Liv. There’s nothing you can do for me.”
I took a step away from her and barely recognized Mills and Finn begin to raise their voices as Liv stumbled on her feet. When I blinked again, Daemon was there and slowly the rest of the streets were filled with Black Death and Nordic Lords members standing off on the street corner.
I couldn’t pull my eyes back to Olivia as the men argued about who owned me and who would be getting me soon. It sounded so familiar to what Ryker had told me in the hotel room, but the shame that always encompassed my life filled with me such torment that there was no way I wanted to see what sort of disgust laid in Olivia’s eyes.
Instead, I looked away and wobbled on my heels, trying to get away from the men who were joining the crowd on the street.
Words were shouted right before the first punches were thrown. Someone shoved my shoulder. My feet slipped on the pavement, and I fell backward. My hands flew out to steady myself, but it didn’t help. My head slammed into a glass window behind me, and I crumpled to my feet. The black dots reappeared in my vision along with the sticky feel of more blood becoming tangled in my hair.
I heard Olivia shout my name right before a large, firm hand grabbed my bicep and pulled me to my feet.
Punches flew. Knives were pulled. Sirens rang in the distance.
“Let’s go,” he ordered, his voice deep and authoritative. Seeing as how I wasn’t in a position to argue, I didn’t. He pulled me roughly to my feet and kept a hand on me until we were around the corner. The entire time, I hoped that Nordic Lords killed every single Black Death member.