Page 26 of Storm's Deliverance

I can see her nail marks down his back as he turns, and the bile that threatened to rise earlier rises up. I can’t hold it back. I turn on my heel and run into the bathroom, emptying the contents of my stomach down the toilet.

I eventually stop and sit to the side to catch my breath. Zeke hands me a damp cloth, and I snatch it and wipe my mouth. Breathing slowly, I look down, and my eyes land on the trash can and the two used condoms discarded there.

“Say something, please,” Zeke pleads.

At that moment, uncontrollable laughter bubbles up from within me. Zeke looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. My laughter turns hysterical, loud and unhinged, as tears stream down my cheeks, turning to sobs.

“Fuck,” I breathe, trying to catch my breath as I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.

“Say something, please,” Zeke begs again.

I look up at him as anger, hurt, and devastation consume me. “You’ve got drunk, and you’ve got angry.” I pause, pushing to my feet, and as the reality sinks in, the rage starts pumping through my veins. “You’ve pushed me, hit me!” I yell, pointing to mycheek. “And now I come home to you fucking Angela!” I fume, stepping towards him. Red hot tears stream from my cheeks, but not from the hurt and the pain he has caused me. No. Now it’s angry tears; angry that I defended him to my family, that I lied to them for him, and now this. This is how he repays me?!

“How you are feeling right now, that is how I felt seeing you with Drix,” he throws back at me.

I laugh and throw my hands up. “Oh my god,” I sigh. “This is not the same thing, and you know it!” I yell. “Move out of my way. I’m leaving,” I demand, not wanting to waste another breath on him.

“No,” he refuses.

“No?” I counter, arching my brow at him.

“No. You’re upset, I get that, and I am sorry, but we will figure this out,” he says with desperation in his voice.

I stand toe to toe with him, my furious gaze searing into him. “Move and let me go now,” I warn, my voice low and threatening. I had let too much slide, I had been too soft, and I had let him get away with what he had already done. For fear of what my family would to him, but now I don’t care. Now I want to see him suffer. I want him to hurt like he’s hurt me. I deserve better.

His eyes darken. “No. If I move, you will go running to your fucked up family and they will kill me, and if they don’t kill me, they will destroy my career. They will ruin my life for upsetting their precious little biker brat,” he sneers.

I blink, shocked at how his entire demeanour changed quicker than a light switch. What I thought was drink causing the change in his temper was just him. He just waited until I moved in to show it.

He closes the distance, just an inch from me, looking down on me. There’s a darkness in his eyes that I’ve never seen before as he looks down at me. I keep my back straight, not backingdown. I don’t show fear. Instead, I show him just who he’s facing.

“I’m not just some girl. I’m the daughter of the President of the mother fucking Black Hearts MC,” I sneer.

He huffs. “Right now you are on your own. With no way out and nowhere to go.”

A slow grin spreads across my face. “I wasn’t done. I’m the daughter of the President of the Black Hearts MC, but worse than that. I’m my mother’s daughter.” As soon as the words have left my mouth, I swiftly bring my knee up, colliding right between his legs. His eyes widen and a low groan vibrates from deep within his throat as he collapses to the ground. I quickly step over him and head back into the bedroom, frantically looking for the knuckle dusters Mom had got me. I pull open the draw where they should be, hunting through my clothes.

“Looking for these?” Zeke’s deep voice growls from behind me. I freeze and slowly turn. There on his hand is one of the knuckle dusters.

I open my mouth to shout, to argue, but he rears his fist back, slamming his iron-clad fist into my face. My vision instantly blurs as I fall to a heap on the floor. Slowly blinking, my face feeling like it’s been split in two, I will myself to stay focused, to stay conscious. As I try to push myself to crawl, trails of claret coat the cream carpet. I whimper as I slowly, ever so fucking slowly, make my way to the door.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he spits, slamming his foot down on my back, causing a winded groan to escape me. I curl into a ball as he slams his foot down on me again and again. “You forced this from me! You pushed and pushed this! Fucking slut. Fucking hillbilly scum!” he roars, each word dripping with malice.

I keep my gaze fixed on the door until the final blow comes, drowning me in darkness.