I dive back into the book world, reading about three sisters who own a tattoo shop called Diva’s Ink. The first book, Blank Canvas, makes me what to get a tattoo. Most nights I read until I fall asleep, but tonight, I’m restless. While I was riding today, it felt like someone was watching me. Now I’m alone and I feel even more vulnerable. I hate it. This is when I wish I had someone to call and talk to until I calm down, but the cold hard truth is I don’t have anyone.
I close the book and lay it on the side table next to my chair. I stand, stretching the kinks out of my neck and back. I take the blanket off the back of the couch, wrap it around my shoulders, and step out onto the front porch. I close my eyes, taking in a deep breath before I feel a slight pinch, almost like a bee sting on my neck. The world begins to spin and I lose my balance, my feet slipping out from under me, and I fall, landing hard on the porch.
That’s when everything goes dark.
45
Salvation
For days, or it could be weeks, I’ve been hearing her calls - her cries for help. I’ve felt her happiness, her pain, and her anger. She stirs the wild beast inside of me. He’s been dormant for far too long and hearing her cries only encourages him to wake up and pace his internal prison, ready to break free.
“Salvation,” Lux calls my name, pulling me away from hearing her voice again. “What’s going on over there? You’re in your head again, man.”
I glance around the room, hearing the chatter going on inside the heads of my brothers around me. “Sorry, Pres,” I say, looking down at my hands folded on the table.
“You’ve been brooding more than normal, what’s going on?”
I shift in my chair, the wood creaking under my weight. “I need to go on a run.”
Lux leans forward on the table, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “A run? To?”
“Some shit hole way up in the mountains.”
Lux studies me. He knows I’m not telling him everything. “Somethin’ callin’ you there?”
“A girl - my mate,” I state firmly, not elaborating any further on the subject.
Lux doesn’t press for details. He nods at me as if granting his permission and gets back down to club business.
I can’t hear anything that’s said over the next hour because all the talk in the room is drowned out by her sweet angelic voice pleading for my help. In my dreams, she cries out my name. It pulls me closer to her, awakening the panther. He’s desperately clawing his way to the surface. For months he’s been caged. The only time he feels better is when Lux lets me loose on someone threatening the club or when one of my brothers sticks his nose where it doesn’t belong. only feeling better when Lux lets me loose on someone who’s threatened the club, wants to have some fun trying to whoop my ass, or when one of my brothers sticks his nose in a place it doesn’t belong. When my fists go to work on some poor fuck’s face, I release every ounce of anger and frustration I feel each time my knuckles collide with flesh. The sound of shattering bone is like a fucking orgasm for me; it never gets old.
46
Maximus “Max”
I don’t know who he is, the man I’m connected to. When it’s quiet, I can talk to him, but I never know if he hears me because he never answers. I can only hope that he’s listening to my pleading and begging, especially when I’m wishing for death each time my captor comes into my tiny prison.
He thinks I possess some kind of superpower, and no matter how many times I tell him I have no such thing, he just laughs and continues his taunts.
The space holding me hostage is cold and mostly dark except for a tiny lamp that sits on a table in the corner of the room. At least this asshole is nice enough to give me blankets so I stay warm. If I freeze to death, I won’t be of any use to him. A heavy linked chain is wrapped tightly around my ankle, fastened by an even heavier master lock that limits my mobility in this hellhole. The walls and floor are thick, cool concrete, and besides the tiny lamp that sits in the corner, the only other thing in the room is the cot he forces me to sleep on—if I can sleep at all. At least the bathroom isn’t half bad. The privacy is shit and nothing locks, so I can’t hide from him when he comes to visit me, but at least it’s not a bucket or a hole in the floor.
I hear his footsteps on the stairs, light illuminating the room when he comes through the door. His tall and bulky frame blocks my view of anything that may tell me where he’s keeping me.
I finally ask, “Who are you?”
He smiles a big toothy smile—his teeth are damn near perfect. “I’m Genocide, but my friends call me Gen.” He steps into the room, leaning a gun up against the wall. He strides across the floor to me, his heavy boots vibrating the floor with each step he takes and shaking the ground beneath me. He kneels in front of me, studying my features – mainly my eyes. What he’s looking for, I’m not sure.
“Well, good to know. We aren’t friends, Genocide.” His name means massive death. Why would anyone name their child Genocide? He’s probably the spawn of hell and his poor mother died during childbirth.
“Such a feisty animal you are,” he says, sliding a boney finger under my chin.
I look away
