Sicko

Royce looks over his shoulder at Isaac.

Isaac shrugs, gesturing to Kyle. “You take him away from this scene, no one will ever know who K Diamond is. There will be no coverage. No trial. He gets no media attention, and it’s hidden. Essentially, that rage you feel will burn out, and then all you’ll have left is the stained bullshit he will leave on your hands, kid. You could kill him here and now and have my team run through it, but you’d have to live without knowing whatever it is he’s hiding, or you can take him, and the stain that comes from his kill.”

Royce doesn’t need to think twice, he puts a cigarette between his lips and blazes the end. “Got enough stains to paint a fucking Helen Frankenthaler piece, Isaac. I’ll take option one.”

We arrive back at the clubhouse a little after that, Storm using that time to wipe the servers clean that showed Wolf Pack’s involvement. Legally, it’s going to look like a bloodbath, but in the midst of it, Storm said he managed to turn it into something else.

I’m wearing Royce’s cut that falls to my upper thighs as I walk up the stairs that lead to the clubhouse, my heavy heels clicking against the pavement. Turning to the left, Bonnie’s blood stains are still visible on the ground, and my heart stings all over again, unable to contain the hurt from losing her. What I went through today—aside from the killing—is something I go through all the time with Kyle, so over the years, it has numbed.

The death of Bonnie is new, fresh, and the sting of her death still sharpens everywhere I turn.

I push the door open and step inside, sobbing silently, hoping no one can hear.

“Jade?” Karli asks from the top of the stairwell, dropping the dishcloth she had in her hand and rushing down the stairs. Her arm flies around me as she guides me back up the stairs. I lose it. The sobs that wrack through me pull at my chest and cripple my bones. Waves of overwhelming pain slap me across the face as an anchor clamps around my throat, pulling me deeper and deeper into bottomless depths of unholy water. My throat contracts so tight that I struggle to breathe, just as Kara enters and hooks her hand around the other side of my back.

“Come on, girl. We’ll get you tidied up.” I want to tell them thank you but no, that I want to be alone, but I can’t gather the energy to push them away. They just watched their best friend die. I doubt they want to mess around with me.

Kara pushes the door to Royce’s room open and directs me to his bathroom, turning on the shower to scorching hot. The sobbing has stopped, my face unmoving. I feel frozen, my eyes dead. The range of emotions I have gone through in the last few hours isn’t something I’m familiar with.

I need something.

Something to take the edge off.

Kara opens up the cupboard in the bathroom as Karli turns my arm over.

“We need to clean this up before you get in the shower. I think it’s stopped bleeding, but we can put some butterfly stitches on it.”

Kara finally finds the first-aid kit and I faintly hear her rummaging through the supplies.

“She’s withdrawing,” Karli whispers to Kara.

Kara stills. “No, she’s not a fucking druggie, Karli!”

“I didn’t say that!” Karli snaps. “But you forget what I’ve gone through. She. Is. Withdrawing.”

“I’ll be fine,” I say through shaky lips. I reach for the antiseptic wipes but my hands shake. “Fuck.” I know I’m strong enough to overcome the surges. “This is the first time he did this.”

“First time?” Karli says, keeping her eyes on mine while blindly reaching for a wipe. “You’re going to get through this real fast—” Cold stinging erupts through my flesh as she swipes away the germs. “I have a dark past. I can tell you now, one time will be better than one thousand.” I remain quiet, not wanting to talk, or chat, or do anything. My mouth is as dry as cotton, my limbs limp. “In the shower!”

Karli leads and I gaze down at my arm to see she had put the butterfly stitches on perfectly. Removing Royce’s vest from around my semi-naked body, Karli folds it up and places it onto the counter.

Kara comes behind me and unclasps my bra before removing my panties and helping me into the shower. “The boys will be back soon enough, okay? Royce will be back after they’ve done what they needed to do.”

They both begin to wash me, from my hair, to my body, back to my hair, all while being careful around my cut. One of them hits the faucet and wraps a warm, fluffy towel around me, as I step out of the shower.