Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
I know right away I’ve made a mistake.
Ahead, a man dangles from a meat hook driven cruelly through his shoulder blade. His blood seeps down in thick, dark ribbons, pooling beneath him. His legs thump and jerk against the concrete floor, desperate. A steel vice clamps his mouth shut; every muffled rasp and wet gargle reverberates off the walls like a drumbeat. Every biker in the club surrounds him, as if they’re enjoying the torture.
Torture that is written all over his body in every mark, gash, bruise, and slice.
I choke. My vision blurs. The world tilts. I sob, fists clamped over my mouth, knees shaking. “Oh God...” My voice cracks.
Chief, who is holding a bloody knife, turns when he hears my sob.
“Violet?” His tone is disturbingly gentle. My stomach turns, and I rifle for the door, adrenaline igniting every nerve.
“Mischief!” he calls, voice more frantic now. But I’m already tearing through the house and down the driveway, trying to keep the contents of my stomach in.
I know my father does illegal things. I know he is part of a club that does illegal things. But what I didn’t know, what they have kept from me for so long, is that level of violence. The kind of violence that makes my blood run cold because it’s coming from a man I hold so close to my heart. A man who has only ever touched me with gentle hands.
My hero.
I yank at the car door, my lungs heaving. Each breath is a rasping scream in my chest. He sprints after me, catches my arm, and spins me face-to-face. Tears blur my vision. I shove at his chest, but there is little point; he is too big and too strong.
“What... what is that? How can you—” My voice shatters. “Who the fuck are you?”
He doesn’t release me; instead, he holds me long enough to try and explain. “He had information on Demon. It was necessary. I’m sorry you had to see it, baby.”
Tears burn down my cheeks. I jerk hard enough that he releases me, but I’m trapped between him and my car. “Necessary? You call this necessary?” My chest seizes so tight I can’t pull in air. “Do you enjoy hurting people like that?”
“He’s a fuckin’ piece of shit scumbag who does far worse than I have ever done to him. I don’t hurt innocent people, Violet.”
“Oh, so that makes it okay?”
“Never said it was okay, but it’s part of what we do.”
“He is hanging from a fucking hook,” I whisper. “What is wrong with you?”
He flinches as though struck. I notice his hands covered in streaks of red blood. I shudder.
“Don’t do this,” he pleads, voice raw. “I can’t make you understand, but I have always done my best to keep you away from this, Violet.”
I taste bile. “Is this why Mom left? Because she couldn’t bear it?”
He flinches, and pain washes over his face.
He doesn’t answer.
He doesn’t need to.
His silence is the answer.
My lip quivers. I scrub at my face with the back of my hand. “I should go.”
He reaches out, just a pure impulse, but I duck away and tumble into the driver’s seat. The engine roars to life. Tires spin, gravel flies, and I’m gone before he can call my name again.
On the road, the image of the hook protruding out of that man’s flesh haunts me. My heart pounds so ferociously I’m sure it could shatter my ribs. I think of Mom and how brave she must’ve been to walk away, and how terrified. I pull over, needing to breathe, and press my forehead against the steering wheel, eyes closed, racing to leave the nightmare far behind.
I knew my dad was dangerous, but I never knew the club life was so violent.
My mother protected me, I know she did, and now it makes sense why she left. I know it isn’t the only reason, but I do know it was a big part of it.
She didn’t want me to see that side of him.
She didn’t want my heart to break just like hers did.
“OH MY GOD, WOULD YOU look at this plane!” I exclaim, my voice breathy with excitement as I lean into Reagan, my eyes wide with disbelief. The luxurious interior is nothing like I’ve ever seen—all plush leather and polished wood, screaming opulence and comfort.
A good distraction from today’s events.
I didn’t tell Travis what I saw, because I have no doubt that it is something he has probably witnessed and I don’t want to get into it. Not this weekend. Not ever, probably. I just want to forget what I saw. I know my father is part of a world I don’t understand, but it still shook me to see that.
Travis chuckles, a low, throaty sound that snaps me out of my thoughts. His bandmates join in, their laughter filling the cabin. The only one not amused is the receptionist, her nose wrinkled like she’s smelled something sour.