Clenching my eyes closed, I take in a few deep breaths. Don’t walk down that aisle. Don’t do it… don—
Walking down the blood-red hall, Madison squeezed the man’s hand. “Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see, Silver. You’ll see.”
“Will there be any other kids there to play with?”
The man looked down to Madison and grinned. “You’ll see.”
“No!” I rock back and forth on the concrete in front of the door, cradling my knees up to my chest. Tears pour down my cheeks and sweat beads my skin regardless of the fact I’m sitting in the brisk cool night with absolutely no shirt on. “No, no, no…” Shaking my head, I can still hear his voice in the back of my consciousness. “It’s just a dream. It’s just a bad dream. He won’t come back,” I repeat, rocking back and forth and fisting my hair.
“Madison, Madison! Fuck!”
Whose voice is that?
“No!” I shake my head again, lost in my dark abyss of bleeding memories. “He always comes back.”
“Madison!” another voice roars in the background. A different voice.
“Come back, baby.”
I know that voice.
My eyes spring open, a blood-curdling scream ripping out of my chest. “Don’t fucking touch me!” Consciousness starts to seep in, and I look up to see Bishop, Nate, Hunter, Brantley, Cash, Eli, and Chase circling me. I cover my front right away, and Bishop rips off his hoodie, pushing it over my head before tucking his arms under my legs and lifting me off the ground. I snuggle into his chest, inhaling his spicy, sweet scent.
“What, what did I say?” I murmur through sobs.
“You said enough for us to know enough.” Bishop’s jaw tenses as he looks directly at Nate, who still hasn’t looked at me.
“Nate?” I whisper, but he doesn’t acknowledge me. His eyes stay locked on Bishop’s. A wave of humiliation washes over me. Is he ashamed of me? That this happened to me? Does he look at me differently now? All my worst fears come crashing into my chest like a freight train. I’m dirty. No one can love something or someone who has been through what I have. His knowing what I’ve been through has now tainted what he thought of me; I just know it. My heart snaps in my chest and my throat swells as tears start to pour down my cheeks again.
“Take her home,” Nate replies emotionlessly.
“Nate?” I try again through a broken throat. “Talk to me.”
He doesn’t move, keeping his eyes on Bishop. “Take her home.”
Bishop’s grip tightens around me. “We’ll talk about this later,” he warns Nate.
I don’t see Nate’s reaction, because I’ve buried my head into the crook of Bishop’s neck, his pulse pounding against my nose. Putting me in the passenger seat, Bishop shuts the door and then comes to his side, sliding in and firing up his Maserati.
“Madi, we don’t have to talk about anything right now, but eventually, I want to know 100 percent of what happened and everything in between—okay?”
I don’t say anything, watching how the dark night dances between the tree branches and leaves.
“Answer me.”
“Yes,” I reply. “I’ll tell you everything I remember.”
He floors it forward as we leave the cabin in the distance.
“Why?” I croak out once we hit the highway.
“Why, what?” He looks to me every couple of seconds while still keeping his eyes ahead on the road.
“Why did you have to do it this way. Why scare me?”
He pauses briefly until the silence stretches out. “Fear is your patch, babe. We all have our patches. Those little spaces that could bring us to our knees if dabbled with.”
The answer surprises me. “Oh, and what’s yours?”
He pauses again, long enough for me to guess he’s not going to answer, so I lean my forehead on the cool window and close my eyes, suddenly feeling tired and drained.
“You.”
My eyes snap open. Not wanting to be overly obvious about how surprised I am, I keep my eyes locked on the dark road ahead. “What?”
“I didn’t have one,” Bishop confesses. “It’s how my father raised me, why I am who I am. Our blood, I mean, who we are, we can’t afford to have a patch. My dad doesn’t have one either. He married my mom for a cover, not for love—not that I’m talking about love.” He looks toward me to enhance his point then focuses back on the road. “But I’m just saying, I can’t have one. The fucking feelings I get when I think someone is fucking with you, though?” He breathes out a gush of air. “I’d kill them in an instant and not think twice about doing it. That may not be because I caught feelings for you or anything like that. It could just be because we’re sort of… friends. In a fucked way.”
“Friends?” I mimic, trying that word on my tongue. So he’s overprotective of me and has some sort of feelings for me. If not, then why would he kill someone over me? He sounds confused, about as confused as I am about him. I get where he’s coming from, Bishop has always been different for me too, regardless of whatever fucked shit he put me through. Is that really dangerous for him though? To feel that strongly about a “friend?”
“Why is that a bad thing?” I quickly ask before I can stop myself. “I mean, why is having a patch a bad thing?”
“It’s a weakness. I had nothing to lose until I met you. I can’t afford to have a weakness, not in this lifetime.”
“Well maybe we’ll meet each other in another lifetime, and I can be more than a patch to you.” I glance at him, and his eyes lock onto mine. The dark depths sink into mine, clinging like a flame does to embers.
“And what would that be?” he asks, his brows pulling in as he looks from my
