Queen of Nothing

Mateo

Iwasfuckingfurious. At everything. At him, for trying to control where she slept like we didn’t even have a say in anything. At Santo, for leaving me alone all weekend with the miserable bastard. At her, for sleeping in my room yet-a-fucking-again, and somehow still making me feel like a piece of dog shit stuck to her shoes.

How was it that she was begging Ronan for his cock first thing in the morning–just minutes after she came all over my hand, and then was asking to stay in Santo’s room just a few moments later? The girl had no idea what she fucking wanted, and it was driving me up the fucking wall. I thought back to Santo’s words that first day she was here.

You brought the apocalypse.

Damned if it wasn’t true.

Zerkos tossed her in the kennels as soon as she refused to stay in his room, and as much as I wanted to bask in that victory, it was as much of a loss for me too. It had been over two months of me using my hand to get off and it was making me more and more on edge. Even the thought of one of the many tag-along Black Crow groupies that were more than willing to satisfy any of us put me off. There was only one chick that was doing it for me anymore, and she was hell-bent on making me miserable. I didn’t even doubt that she was probably punishing me for all the shit we were putting her through.

I ran my hand over my face in frustration and laid back down on my bed. For the first time in longer than I could remember I had absolutely no desire to play music. There was no insatiable urge digging at me to tune my soul into the beat, and tune my mind out of the present.

And I knew exactly why.

She was occupying every single inch of my mind, and like a black hole festering inside of me, she was consuming all of my thoughts.

The lights were too bright and the high pitch whining in my head was pounding into my skull again, but she wasn’t here to erase it this time. I’d grown used to her presence, too comfortable with her touch.

I felt bitter at the passing thought that I was being played like a fool.

Con artist.

It was about a three-hour drive to Grimm’s Reach from here, we hadn’t even left yet and it was almost dark. Zerkos was set on spending some time with Oksana to see if he could get any information at all from her. There was a good chance we wouldn’t be back until morning and that thought alone exhausted me. I would have paid any amount of money to not have to go, and I knew he could have taken Fletcher or Ethan with him, but the truth was simple.

My brother didn’t trust me alone with his plaything.

I knew as soon as he’d come back up from the fifth floor that we were going to have it out again. But I was tired of fighting it, and he needed to know it too. I could hear his heavy footsteps coming closer from outside of the room and I grabbed my wallet and keys and headed out to meet him. His angry expression softened as soon as he looked at me and I realized I must have really looked like shit for Ronan Zerkos to be looking at me like that, with pity.

“How’s your head?” he asked with genuine concern.

I shrugged and waited for him to get his things out of his bedroom. We both made our way into the elevator to start our little road trip.

“Oksana hasn’t said a damn word down there. I couldn’t get anything out of her,” he said looking at me, the weight of it all written on his face. He wasn’t sleeping well, and I could tell by the dark circles under his eyes that It was more than just guilt. “I think we were played.”

“By the Russians?” I asked him, trying to piece it all together in my head.

“I don’t know brother, but I’m gonna get to the bottom of it. First, I’m gonna figure out what she’s keeping from me. Then I’m going to figure out what’s going on with the Bratvas.” He looked determined, and I hoped for all of us that we could get the answers we were looking for.

“You think he’s gonna be okay with you showing up over there? I remember the last time he almost killed you for it.” I asked, crossing my arms. It was one thing to be King of your own mountain, but a good King respected the reign of others. Motorcycle clubs were notorious for having their own silent, invisible armies. Most of them had several chapters across this country that were just waiting for a phone call to ride into battle.

No, I wasn’t trying to piss off the Diablos.

Again.

Last time Berserk showed up at their door was when we came home from our final assignment as Navy Seals. It had been six years since he had seen her, and according to every single corner of the internet we traced, Cecilia Gomez was a ghost.

Motorcycle clubs were too unstable, with too many hot heads making decisions and of course, everyone was armed to their teeth. All it took was bringing up her name and guns started waving around. Zerkos couldn’t take a goddamn hint, so Santo had to drag us out of the compound before we were in over our heads.

I’d give them that though, those fuckers were loyal to their President.

The ride was too quiet, my brother was clearly choking on all the shit he wanted to say to me, but he was holding back because he felt sorry for me. He felt guilty because he thought the headaches were a side effect of our time overseas.

But I’d been having headaches since I was a kid.

My portable CD player hooks into my backpack snuggly to keep it from skipping. I just bought the new Offspring albumand Original Prankster blares through my headphones as I step through the crunchy autumn leaves. It’s my favorite time of year because it means Christmas is coming.

I bought Andrea’s present back in July and I’ve been hiding it for months! She is gonna totally flip, it’s a hot pink Tamagotchi with purple buttons. I saw her eyeing it during the summer fair and dad refused to buy it for her because he said she already had too much junk. She cried the entire night in my bed and the next day I snuck out and used my entire year’s savings to buy it for her. I had it wrapped in my dresser drawer in a box with a bow and everything. I kept it locked because Andrea was a little snooper, and I didn’t want her to spoil her own surprise.

I open the door to our house and kick off my shoes, hanging my backpack on the hook and taking the CD player out of it as I run up the stairs. Once I get to my room, I take my headphones off but before I close the door, I hear something that makes me hesitate. Andrea stayed home sick with dad today, maybe she’s not feeling good.

I hear some grunting and open the door to inspect her room, and instead, I find my dad with his back to me. There’s a whistle, almost like an alarm in my head when I see him. His pants are around his ankles and he’s pushing into the bed over and over and I don’t think he can hear me, but I also can’t be sure that I’m saying anything. It’s all so loud. The television was on, but it was static on the screen and the intense siren of the cable searching for a signal overwhelmed my senses as I made my way into the room.

“What are you doing?” I say cutting through the fog of the high-pitched whining, but he doesn’t turn back to look at me so maybe the noise is too loud for him too. I move into the room and see it’s Andrea under him and I yell again this time louder, “What are you doing?” I push him off of her once my brain focuses and realizes what’s happening. He looks at me, his face filled with rage. We both look back at Andrea who isn’t moving, her face is already blue, and foam is pooling at her mouth.

“Look what you’ve done you useless shit!” He screams at me, the force of his hand throwing me against the floor so hard the side of my head hits the metal frame of the bed. The warm liquid drips down the side of my face, and the high-pitched noise gets too loud to fight off. I close my eyes to try to get relief. I try to stay awake. I know I need to help Andrea. The heel of his boot connects with my rib and then my chin and the pain is just too much to not give in to the call of darkness.

I’m awake but my eyes are closed, my head hurts too much to take in the outside world right now. I can tell it’s too bright by the way it all speckles through my eyelids. That ringing hasn’t gone away and a bubble of anxiety traps itself in my chest as I try to force my senses to not get overwhelmed by the sound. I hear someone talking in the distance, but I can’t make out a lot, so I do my best to focus on each word as they come out.

“Why isn’t he cuffed to the bed anymore?” I think it’s my mom, it’s a familiar voice.

“We ran a rape kit, it did not match your son Ma’am. He isn’t a suspect. It did match your husband though. We’ve taken him into custody.” I can hear my mother start to break down, her sobbing almost on the verge of hysterical.

“Shouldn’t he be charged as an accessory or something?” I hear my mother through her cries.

“Mrs. Kane, we have no reason to believe your son had anything to do with the murder of your daughter. His injuries lead us to believe he may have tried to intervene.” I hear the rough but caring voice tell her on my behalf.

“I need a minute alone with my son please,” she says to the man. His footsteps are followed by the sound of the door shutting.

All of a sudden, her heels quickly tap against the hospital floor, and I feel her cold hands pinching at my face. She plugs my nose for a few seconds but let’s go before I feel lightheaded. She lifts my eyelid up, but I don’t move at all, she sneers at me before letting my eyelid fall back down.