Ruin & Rule

“See if you remember,” Arthur murmured, his breath tickling the back of my neck.

I shuddered, completely unable to concentrate. “Stop that.”

He chuckled.

The heat from his body warmed me as I closed one eye and peered through the wood.

Another compound.

This one was large, more village style than the large abode of one-story living and location of Pure Corruption. It had a massive Clubhouse in the center that looked like the congregation area and town hall. Surrounding the large building were smaller ones, all nondescript but well maintained, with motorcycles resting in front of gates and in carports.

I looked further, drinking in the lifestyle below. Children’s toys were strewn on yards, cars glinted in the dying sun, and more houses existed in the distance.

What is this place?

An emblem of a bloody dagger disemboweling a rose glowed in neon on the Clubhouse.

Rose…

“Thorn, take Cleo across to Diane, would you? I have to get this done for Rubix by tonight.”

My father scooped me up from the porch, where I was playing with LEGOs. “Come along, Buttercup. Time to go and bug some other family.”

I stared harder, willing more memories to come. The longer I looked, the more frustrated I became. I knew I knew this place, but the damn wall refused to let me see.

Arthur pressed against me. “Recognize it?” he breathed.

I shivered as his breath skated down my neck again, making me not care in the slightest about the view in front but only the man behind. “Not really. I know I should, but it’s not coming.”

“What’s the club’s name?”

I stared at the rose and dagger and went for the obvious. “Rose and Dagger?”

He twitched behind me. “Close. Dagger Rose. They’re a fifty-member-strong MC. Bigger than Pure by over half. They have Chapters all around USA, but this is the main HQ.”

As I kept spying, I noticed children playing in a sandpit in one of the yards and two women taking in washing from the line. Men lazed around in the typical biker attire while others did gardening chores half-naked and content in the late-afternoon sun.

It looked normal and safe.

“Hey, little Cleo.”

I looked up at the man who’d been there since I was born. He always had something sweet in his leather jacket and he hung out with my dad all the time.

“Hey.”

“Where’s Thorn?”

I cocked my head at the Clubhouse. “With Mom. They heard of a raid. I think they’re shredding a few things.”

The guy scowled, darkness flickering in his eyes before disappearing just as quickly. Reaching into his pocket, he threw a small packet of licorice allsorts at me. “Thanks, princess.”

I jerked back from the fence, breathing hard.

Burn, baby girl. Burn.

Him.

The match.

The fire.

The melting house all around me.

It was all because of him.

“What did you remember?” Arthur spun me around, clutching my shuddering frame. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you. No one will touch you.”

That’s what I thought. I thought I was safe. I was supposed to be untouchable.

Burrowing into his jacket, I inhaled his winds and salty scent. “I’m all right. Just give me a second.”

Arthur stroked my hair. “You saw him. Didn’t you?”

I froze.

“Fuck, you remembered.” His voice turned hard and almost evil. “That fucking bastard. That lowlife fucking piece of shit.”

I squirmed in his fierce embrace, looking into his eyes. “Who? What is this place?”

He paused, his body tight with anger. “I thought you just remembered?”

I bit my lip, the heavy wall inside my mind slamming resolutely closed. There was no point prying. It was locked and impenetrable. “It doesn’t work like that. I remember snippets. Things come in a flash and then fade. I still don’t have enough to piece together the full story.”

Sighing, I asked, “I should know that place, though, shouldn’t I?”

Arthur pinched the brow of his nose, striding away with frustration. “You should, yes.”

“Why?”

Standing still, he dropped his hand. “Because you were born there. You were raised there. Me, too. Our entire lives, until you turned fourteen, were spent happy—down there.” His tone wasn’t that of a man speaking fondly of his childhood, but a prisoner who’d miraculously escaped and wanted to slaughter the men who held him captive.

My mind slithered like a hibernating snake, hissing its way to truth, strangling all other thoughts in its way. “What happened after my fourteenth birthday?” I murmured.

Arthur went ramrod straight. “You mean… you don’t remember that either?”

Horror crept over his features.

My heart seized. “Arthur… I’m asking you… what happened that night?”

He backed away from me, his hands diving into his hair. “Don’t ask me that, Cleo. You can’t ask me that.” His face turned white.

“Art, you can tell me. I need to know. It all hinges on that one night. The fire. The blood. I remember escaping, but I don’t remember how it started or why.”

Arthur shook his head, pacing like a caged animal. “I—that night.” He looked up, tortured. “I—I can’t—shit!”

I moved forward, reaching for him.

He dodged my touch, striding toward the bike. “Come. We can’t stay here. They’ll see us. I mean to start a fucking war, but on my terms, not theirs.”