Chapter 1
Blood.
Esmerelda Quinn was used to the viscid substance.
She knew how it smelled, what it felt like pressed against her skin, how easily it stained her clothes…
She was familiar with it.
And, why wouldn't she be?
She’d seen her fair share, drawn a good amount of it, worked hard to make sure she didn't spill any of her own…
Esmerelda was a veritable master at protecting herself.
At least, she used to be.
Esmerelda Quinn used to make every single decision based on at least three possible outcomes: the good, the bad, and the worse.
Worse…
Esmerelda didn't imagine herself to be the smartest woman on the planet, no, but she did imagine that she knew right from wrong.
Yet, the sight of her husband, of her old man, lying lifeless inside of a casket made her feel like maybe she didn't know the difference after all.
How could she?
The only person she had left in the world was dead.
Dead.
Dea…
De…
Despite what she wanted to believe, she knew that Chris wasn't coming back.
Yet, through the sickening stench of roses, she swore she could smell his aftershave lingering on the cool North Carolina breeze. Esmerelda was almost certain she could hear his laughter as she moved slowly through the crowd dwarfing the entrance of the Lone Rangers's clubhouse.
Her feet felt heavy, as if she were wearing shoes made of cement; she should be moving faster, shouldn't she?
Yet the only movement she could manage was to tighten her numb fingers around the decanter in her hand.
The bourbon burned the back of her throat, but the mild sting was nothing compared to the burn she felt deep down in her bones.
The aching loss that echoed inside of her surely hollow chest as she took another slow step towards the small room that she knew housed the body of her beloved.
Could she do it?
Esmerelda had no notions of saying goodbye; not yet.
The words lingered in the back of her throat like an ever-present infection that threatened to immobilize her completely, and yet, part of her was still convinced this was all a sick joke.
When Axel had called her to inform her of her old man’s fatal accident, she was sure he was lying.
He had to be.
God wouldn't be so cruel as to give her a happily ever after, just to take it away…
would he?
Her signature was barely dry on their marriage certificate.
Chris is dead…
Muted voices broke through the barrier of her thoughts, but she couldn't stop them even if she wanted to.
Everyone in the clubhouse was giving her distance, and apart from a few random people paying their respects, she was left alone.
Esmerelda appreciated that.
She didn't have much to say anymore.
The idea of trying to hold a conversation while she was still trying to gather her courage to face her husband had her pressing a hand against her pursed mouth.
Can I do it?
Am I strong enough?
She’d asked herself that very question a hundred times at least in the past hour, and every time the resounding answer was fuck no.
Esmerelda’s hands were trembling, rocking the ice inside of her glass; the steady tinkling sound it made as it smacked against her snifter was the only anchor she had as she took another step towards the darkened room that she’d been actively avoiding.
She took another step, and it felt like her entire world was crashing in around her.
A cry escaped Esmerelda’s lips as her tears finally fell.
Inky, wet, paths of agony decorated her cheeks like a freshly painted portrait, and wasn't that the irony of it all?
Esmerelda Quinn knew that she didn't deserve the best of everything, hell, she didn't even expect it- but surely she deserved better than being widowed only weeks after her wedding day?
Surely, she deserved better than to find beauty in such an ugly life, only to lose it to something as simple as a rainstorm?
Another step.
Take another fucking step, Esme.
She took another step, and this time, she caught the gaze of Axel through the crowd.
His somber eyes were glued to her much like her own despair, and so she raised her glass only slightly in his direction.
He’s been kind.
He knows how badly this hurts.
Axel knew what it was like to love and lose, so Esmerelda didn't mind that he was watching her.
No, she didn't mind, because she was taking another step and this time the roses were so close she could practically taste them.
She could imagine how soft their petals were, how utterly fragile their faces were; much like her, much like her heart.
She wanted to rip them apart.
Esmerelda wanted to take all the pretty red roses into her shaking, numb, fingers and tear them to shreds.
She hated what they resembled; mourning.
Loss.
Emptiness.
As Esmerelda took another step forward she crossed the threshold into the very room she wanted to flee from, and then she saw it; the shape of Chris’s casket.
It ruined her.
Her glass fell from her hands, the slippery crystal gliding through her twitching digits as her entire being caved in.
The air slipped from her lungs as she hurried to press her hands against her mouth. Maybe if she tried hard enough, she could keep the cries inside.
But, they kept just coming.
Esmerelda tried her damnedest to steady her breathing, but there was nothing she could do to quell the pain inside of her.
She took another hesitant step forward, her heels scraping against the broken glass, but she didn't notice.
She didn't even care.
All Esmerelda cared about, was the fact that her forever was laid up inside of a coffin, not moving.
As the darkness ebbed, and she saw the outline of his face, she had to press her palms against her wet eyes; she had to suck in a harsh breath in hopes that oxygen would keep her from screeching to the heavens above.
That didn't happen.
Instead, Esmerelda found herself wrapping her fingers around Chris and latching on.
She found herself crying into the collar of his black dress shirt as she prayed for him to come back.
Come back, Chris.
Come back to me.
“Just come back,” She whispered brokenly.
Strong arms gripped her before she got a response, and she fought against Axel’s hold like a hellcat until his ragged voice met her ears.
“He’s gone, baby. Relax. I got you,” He said against her black hair.
I got you.
“Nobody has me anymore,” She argued through her tears.
And just like that, she stopped fighting, and let herself collapse against him.
Nothing.
There’s nothing left to fight for.
Axel’s scarred face came into view as he turned her to face him, his strong hands keeping her grounded.
“I do. I won’t let you down,” He promised as he cupped her cheeks roughly.
But, he was wrong.
Esmerelda didn't have the heart to tell him, as she stood there sobbing into his chest, that he couldn't let her down.
She was already at rock bottom.
Things couldn't get any worse.
Esmerelda knew that she’d already reached her own ending, and it was not happily ever after.