Hero (The VII Knights MC)

Hitting the back button, I go to images, finding a mugshot of Godric. I freeze, my finger rubbing across the screen as if I can actually feel the skin of is cheek. He looks demented, possessed even, but there’s a beauty to behold behind his darkness. I’ve always been drawn to the shadows. It’s no wonder why I live a life of chaos and distress. I can’t help it. I seek the more devious path so I can understand myself, figure out why my heart beats harder at the thought of something dark and not normal. Before Richard and I broke up, I lived a life of binge-watching criminal TV shows, engrossed in what makes psychopaths tick.

Tapping off the mugshot, I find another snapshot of people at the scene where his girlfriend was killed. I go to it, and the article goes to say how his dad, mother, and brother believe he’s innocent and are fighting for his freedom. Pinching the photograph to zoom in, I look at his father first. Godric looks a lot like him, only his dad has more brawn. His long blond hair hangs past his shoulders. A sharp face, with high cheek bones that make him look like he was sculpted from the gods. And those eyes…they’re almost as intense as Godric’s. The guy in the back must be his brother. I study him. He’s younger and doesn’t possess the Godric’s darkness. In fact, he seems confused and unsure of what’s happening.

I keep reading. As I’d hoped, the caption lists the names of those photographed. Big Papa and Bellamy. Dropping my phone to the bed, I sit back until my head hits the headboard. If Godric’s task was to protect his brothers, then I need to get one away from Godric. Biting my bottom lip, I think. I could get Bellamy, I bet. I’ll have to use find his weakness and use it against him, though. He’s a guy, so I’m guessing that would be pussy. I can’t bait him because he might recognize me, and Godric definitely knows me, so how do I get him alone?

My eyes widen, and my bitten lip pulls into a smirk. The Titans have a woman I can use. She’ll be my bait to get Bellamy out and deliver him to Damian.

As much as I love my evil plan, my chest constricts thinking about Godric. That darkness in him that snags me into caring but not wanting to at the same time frustrates me. Dropping my face into my hand, I growl in anguish. I hate this, but it’s the only way. It has to be done.

14

Godric

Sitting inside the club, talking to the guys about why Hollywood shouldn’t get a new bike, Pegs stops mid conversation and leans to the left, almost falling off his stool.

“You drunk?” I ask in confusion.

“Um…I think someone’s lost,” he states, and Sparky pokes his head over the bar top.

“Damn, maybe she’s here to sell girl scout cookies.” Rolling my eyes, I peel at the label on my beer, not really giving a shit about a bitch hanging around the club.

“Maybe I can just ride her.” Hollywood laughs, staring without shame.

“It’ll save you some bike payments.” I laugh, turning to see who the fuck they’re talking about. Monet stands outside, the sun shining down on her high ponytail, making her hair look an auburn red, her skin glowing, and fuck me if those hips don’t scream grab onto me. I’ve never seen her in the daylight. She’s a looker.

“She’s here for me.” I stand, basically telling the men to roll their fucking tongues back into their mouths. I push the glass door open, and her head tilts to the side, her nose scrunched from the sun shining directly into her face.

She slides her hands into the back pockets of her shorts, her purple button up top loose and dipping just enough to catch my attention.

“Hey,” she says with a smile.

“Hey,” I reply awkwardly. I haven’t heard from her in a few days. I figured she went on about her life. To see her pop up in the middle of the day is a little unexpected.

“I don’t know why I’m here.” She laughs, looking down. She’s doing that flirty thing girls do. Flushed cheeks, bashful smile, giggling. Crossing my arms, I widen my stance, trying not to smile at how cute she looks when nervous.

The door behind me opens, and Bellamy and Hollywood step out behind me.

“She got cookies?” Hollywood asks, and Monet’s eyes open a little wider in confusion.

“She’s not a fucking girl scout, dumbass. You gotta be like twelve for that shit,” Bellamy sneers, slapping him in the back of the head. Rubbing my chin, I try to keep my thoughts to myself. These men act like a bunch of teenage boys.

“No cookies here, but if you want to help a damsel in distress, I saw a girl broke down about a mile that way.” She points behind her to the left of the property.