Surviving His Scars (Angels Halo MC Next Gen 4)

Prologue

Monroe

“I’m so bored,” Mila complained loudly as she stomped up the stairs in front of me. “It’s freaking summer vacation, and we can’t even leave the house without an armed escort.”

“That’s right, missy,” Mom called from the kitchen. “And don’t even think about sneaking out tonight to go to that party I know your idiot friends are having.”

“Mom!” she whined. “I just want to have some fun and hang out with my friends.”

“You want to see them, they can come here. But you are not leaving this damn house without your father or one of your uncles with you.”

The way her voice shook only spiked my anxiety higher over this sudden lockdown. Ever since the attack on the MC’s clubhouse the week before, Daddy had been raging. And freaking out about Mila and me leaving the house unprotected.

Our father, James “Spider” Masterson, didn’t freak out over nothing. Very little scared him, but suddenly, he was terrified. For our safety.

I wasn’t sure what was going on—they never told us anything when it was MC-related—but the tension I was feeling coming from him was enough to make me shake. So I wasn’t going to complain about not getting to go out. It wasn’t like I did that often anyway. Only when Mila dragged me along to hang out with her friends, whom I could barely stand.

We may have looked exactly alike in every physical way, but we were completely different on the inside. She was the wild child of the two of us, and I was happy just to curl up in my window with a really good book and disappear into an entirely different world.

With a huff, Mila stomped into her room and slammed the door so hard the floor shook as I walked calmly to my own room. From downstairs, I heard Mom muttering loudly to herself, asking Jesus for patience and repeatedly professing to love her children, as if she needed to remind herself. It was something she often did after Mila threw a fit.

Shaking my head at the two of them, I stepped into my room and closed the door with a soft click before crossing to my bed and dropping down on the pillows. Sighing contently, I reached for the stack of books on the corner of my nightstand…

Only to find a small square box on top of the pile.

Frowning, I sat up, examining the box a little closer. I couldn’t remember putting it there, and it wasn’t typical for one of my parents to leave me random gifts.

Curious, I carefully lifted the top off the box. Inside was a folded piece of paper with a note in masculine handwriting and a necklace. Running my index finger over the small silver medallion, I picked it up and let it dangle in front of my face.

It looked like a warrior holding a sword in one hand and a shield in the other while he stood on the back of…a beast? Grabbing my phone, I did a quick search of the picture depicted on the medallion.

Saint Michael.

As I read about the patron saint, my heart melted a little. Someone had given me a talisman to protect me. It was exactly what I needed with Daddy freaking out every day and sweating bullets. I’d felt unsafe ever since he’d come home one night, demanding to know if we’d seen anyone following us lately.

Needing to know who had given it to me, I picked up the paper again and started reading.

Monroe,

Wear this, and nothing will ever harm you. I’ll always know if you are safe or in danger. Please, precious, don’t ever take it off so I can sleep peacefully knowing you are out of harm’s way. But do not tell your parents. I can’t protect you if they keep me from you.

Your protector,

G

I read it three times, memorizing every word before finally refolding the paper. I don’t know why I didn’t take the note and necklace down to show Mom. I had no idea who “G” was, but instinctively, I knew he wouldn’t harm me. If it was a he. Heck, it just as easily could have been a woman, someone who wanted to watch over me in a maternal kind of way, like Aunt Raven did with all of us.

But no, I really didn’t think it was a woman. The handwriting wasn’t all curvy and pretty like every other woman’s writing I’d ever seen, my own and Mila’s included—and Mila’s handwriting was atrocious if she was in a hurry.

Placing the paper beneath my mattress for safekeeping, I put the necklace around my neck and tucked the medallion under my shirt. As soon as the cool metal settled over my heart, a sudden calm settled over me. All the anxiety I’d felt since that first night Daddy had come home sweating and asking weird questions began to fade.

I covered the medallion with my hand. “I don’t know who you are, G, but thank you,” I whispered.

Three months later…

My heart was pounding against my ribs so hard it hurt, but I knew if I stopped running, even for only a moment to catch my breath, they would get me.

“Help. Please, someone. Help me,” I gasped, running as fast as I could. But I wasn’t athletic like my brother. Running was not something I enjoyed, even if it was one of Mom’s favorite things to do when she was stressed. She often tried to get Mila and me to run with her. Mila went regularly, but I was all too happy to watch them run around the block from the comfort of my bedroom window while reading.

But I was running for my life, and I knew if I didn’t, I wasn’t going to survive this.

Daddy had calmed down the last few weeks, so Mila and I were allowed to go to and from school on our own if we wanted. Today, Mila had ridden home with a friend. They’d asked me to come with them, but it was a pretty day out and I wanted to enjoy the sun and the slightly cool breeze, so I’d decided to walk. It wasn’t far, just under two miles, so I’d waved them off and started walking.

But it seemed that no sooner were my sister and her friend out of sight than a van had pulled up beside me. Creswell Springs was so small, everyone knew everyone else. Strangers stuck out like a sore thumb, and these guys were definitely strangers.

“Hey, beautiful,” the driver had greeted as he rolled down his window and leaned his arm out. His eyes were bloodshot, and the smell of weed floated out of the vehicle, making me gag. His hair was dirty and shaggy, curling at the ends. When he grinned, I saw his teeth were stained yellow and, in a few places, a dark brown. The second guy, I couldn’t see clearly from where I was standing, but I heard him muttering something to the driver. “You need a ride somewhere?”

Automatically, I had covered the medallion under my shirt with my hand. It was something I now did whenever I felt scared. Holding on to it always calmed me, but right then, it didn’t do anything for the sudden shot of fear I felt looking at the guys in the van.

“I’m good,” I told them and started walking again. Unlocking my phone as I walked, I started to text my dad. But even as my fingers were flying over the keys, I heard two doors opening and slamming shut behind me.

A voice in the back of my head told me to run, and I dumped my backpack, knowing it would only weigh me down, and took off running. The sound of their feet rushing after me made me cry out in fear, and I ran faster, clutching my phone in one hand like a lifeline.

Finally, I saw my house up ahead and I tried to pump my legs faster, but there was that dang crack in the sidewalk Mom was always complaining about, and I tripped. Skidding across the concrete scraped the skin off my palms and my bare knees exposed by my jean shorts. Without looking, I knew I was bleeding, and I could feel pieces of dirt and rock lodged in the torn skin.

Tears blinded me as I turned over, too stunned to be able to get to my feet as the two men stopped right in front of me and grinned. The second guy was right there beside the driver. His hair was even greasier than the driver’s, if that were possible. He had a gold cap over one of his top front teeth, and with the way his eyes were looking at me, all I wanted was to hide.

Fear had nausea roiling in my stomach, and I kicked out, trying to defend myself. That only made them laugh, and I tried to scoot back away from them as they inched toward me menacingly.

This time of day, all our neighbors were still at work, the other kids my age still at school for whatever practice they had. Maverick was no doubt walking River home, and Mila was still out with her friend. I should have gone with them. I should have…

The sound of screeching tires had the two men’s heads jerking around. Through my tears, I saw the door of a nondescript black car open and a guy get out, dressed in black pants, with the hood of his shirt pulled up over his head. He was larger-than-life, taller than my dad, wider than my uncle Bash. And the danger that oozed from him reminded me of both men, yet I wasn’t scared of him in the least, unlike the men standing over me. A roar left him, and he charged toward the two men.

They were too stunned by his sudden appearance to move, and he tackled them both to the ground right in front of me. The sound of a skull hitting asphalt echoed in my ears as the new guy punched the one he was on top of over and over in the face, yelling at him in what sounded like Italian.

I desperately blinked back my tears, trying to figure out if what I was seeing was real. That was when my eyes focused on the guy right in front of me. It was the guy with the gold tooth. He was staring straight at me, but his gaze was vacant, and he lay there unmoving.

Cautiously, I kicked out my foot and nudged him, but he didn’t move, didn’t so much as blink, and I realized he was…dead.

My terrified scream filled the air and stopped the newcomer from pounding on the guy on the ground who seemed unconscious. His fist was still raised as if he were going to drop it down like an anvil on the driver’s face again.

The newcomer turned, and I got my first look at his face. There, over his left eyebrow, was a scar that went down to his cheek, and through my continued tears, I found myself wondering how he was still able to see out of that eye—or if he even could.

Seeing the fear on my face, he stood and bent, lifting me into his arms. “It’s okay, precious,” he murmured, pressing his lips to my temple, and I felt oddly comforted. “You’re safe now.”