edded at another’s hand. I would make damn sure of that.
7
King
Sixteen Years Ago
Aged 23
Six Months Later
* * *
Addictions were a habit that would leave you desperate and willing to crawl to your death for just one more hit.
They made you reckless.
Foolish.
Un-fucking-hinged.
I knew all about them. I was addicted to Ivy in ways that were beyond my comprehension. I looked at my behaviour some days and wondered who the fuck I was and what the fuck inspired me to do most of the shit I did.
But I knew why.
And still, I didn’t change a fucking thing.
The day, six months ago, that I’d stood in her mother’s house and forced Ivy to choose between us was my lowest point. I hadn’t been able to think straight that day, let alone make rash decisions. All because I feared never having another hit.
Our relationship had almost become a casualty of my ultimatum. Ivy chose me and hated me for it every day for a good four months. I fucking hated me for it, but I couldn’t bring myself to take the demand back. She spent her days and nights working and studying. I spent all my time at the clubhouse. We were ships in the night. And as far as our wedding was concerned, neither of us brought it up.
Without my drug of choice, I found another way to medicate myself and quiet my demons. I turned to violence and went on a four-month rampage delivering death and destruction for Jethro in his war with the new Black Deeds president, Zero. It had been a bloody and vicious war, and it honed my skills in the way only four straight months of day in, day out depravity could.
I hardly recognised myself when I looked in the mirror each day. Cold, soulless eyes stared back at me, void of any remorse for the things I did. Without Ivy to hold me at the end of the day, I forgot what compassion was. I had no need for mercy, so I dispensed with it.
My days held one clear goal: protect my club. And I became the master at it.
It took an argument with Margreet to pull me back into line. My mother saved me for the second time in my life.
It was the day that Jethro and Zero called a truce. I turned up at Mum’s place that night, late and half-cut. I’d missed all her Sunday lunches for the past four months and skipped every dinner she’d asked us to attend. Ivy went to all of them, but I couldn’t sit next to her at my mother’s house and pretend shit wasn’t fucked up. I couldn’t sit under the weight of my mother’s gaze and pretend I hadn’t fucked up as badly as I had.
I stumbled into the house just over an hour late, heading straight to the kitchen in an effort to avoid Ivy. The only reason I’d turned up at all was that I needed my birth certificate for some bank account bullshit, and Mum had it.
“Zachary.” Mum’s voice sounded behind me as I bent over to search her fridge for something to eat.
I gripped the fridge door harder, willing her to leave it alone, but I knew she wouldn’t. She’d blown up my phone for the past four months with demands for me to come to my senses, and I’d ignored all of them. This was her first opportunity to tell me exactly what she thought of everything I’d done.
Straightening, I turned to find her watching me, arms crossed over her chest, a stern expression on her face. “Do we have to do this?”
Her brows lifted. “You thought you could show up at my house, drunk, raid my fridge, grab your birth certificate and leave without me asking you to explain your actions? I raised you better than that.”
I walked the couple of steps backward I needed to rest against the kitchen counter. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I blew out a harsh breath. “I’m not in the mood for this tonight.”
“It seems you’re not in the mood for a lot of things lately. Not for your girlfriend or your family anyway.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, wondering how much she knew about my relationship with Ivy. Resting my hands either side of me on the counter, I said, “I’ve been busy with the club.”
She pressed her lips together. “Don’t insult my intelligence, Zac.”