Thumper (Cerberus MC)

I wince like I’m supposed to when the asshole runs the scalpel down my bicep. Not responding means he’ll only cut me deep, and I stopped questioning how I respond to everything they do. Sometimes I taunt, sometimes I act like it’s the worst thing to ever happen. It’s like my body is on autopilot, choosing those reactions for me instead of actually having to use brainpower to do it myself.

I don’t understand how I can’t feel the pain, but I can feel the trickle of blood down my skin. It’s like the blade is nothing and the blood is the kiss of butterfly wings at the tips of my fingers. It’s almost a pleasurable feeling, as if I’m floating on clouds and surrounded by beauty, and then the room around me changes.

I give in to the hallucination, knowing whatever tricks my mind has in store for me is going to be much better than looking at the angry assholes in front of me with one eye swollen shut.

Waves crash over the golden sand, the coarse feel of it under my feet, some getting carried away as the water rolls back out. I smile at the horizon, trying to determine where the sky ends, and the water begins. In front of me, there’s nothing but blue. Behind me just miles and miles of sand.

I spin in a circle, keeping my eyes open as long as possible, but they eventually flutter closed when the motion makes my stomach roil.

I fall to the sand with laughter bubbling out of my throat, but soon that laughter turns to sobs, and I can’t quite grasp why I’m no longer happy, why I have such pain in my chest that it feels like my heart is getting ripped out.

I open my eyes turning my head to the side, but the sun is too bright in that direction.

I blame the first flash of red on sunspots in my vision, but then I see it again, a flash of red growing closer with each blink of my eyes.

Then laughter floats to me on the breeze, a soft tinkling sound, and somehow I recognize it even though I know in my heart I’ve never actually heard it before. It’s as if that joy was made for me, is because of me.

As the red grows larger, I can distinguish between the red of her hair and the pinks in her cheeks. Blue eyes come into focus next, white teeth digging into a plump bottom lip.

The pain in my chest is amplified, as if seeing her beauty means I have to give something in return. I have to make my own sacrifices to keep her here.

“Whatever you need,” I promise her. “Just tell me.”

“Where’s the body?” she asks, sadness filling her pretty blue eyes.

“Did they hurt you?” I squeeze my own eyes closed, the wetness sliding down my cheeks like raindrops for a darkened sky.

“You hurt me,” she whispers. “You hurt me the most.”

“I wanted to protect you,” I tell her, my eyes snapping back open.

I can’t not look at her. I don’t know how much time I have left with her.

Only her gorgeous face is no longer smiling. Her pretty red hair isn’t wisping around in the wind. It’s now heavy and matted with her own blood, strands of it matted to her bruised skin. A choking sound comes from her throat, her hands clasping at the gash there.

And I’m helpless, unable to reach for her because my arms are tied down.

I grow numb once again, all of the anger I’ve ever felt for every situation I’ve been in rolling inside. I hate myself for what happened to her.

“Not yet!”

My head jerks to the side, and I realize Ernesto just slapped me across the face.

I’m no longer on the beach. No longer watching Cara bleed out right before my eyes. I’m still stuck in the tiny room with the sinister light swinging on the ceiling, and despite knowing what I just experienced was some sort of dream, I know the pain that woman suffered from was a reality.

“Please just kill me,” I whisper.

“As you wish.”

Chapter 23

Cara

“It’s normally not like this,” Delilah says.

We’ve been at what she calls the clubhouse for a couple of hours. I was forceful in demanding that Lauren let me tag along with her here, but I didn’t offer a single argument when Kincaid asked me to leave the conference room.

He introduced me to his daughter Ivy and her best friend Delilah. They’ve stuck pretty close to me since I walked out of the room.

“How do you mean?” I ask, trying to keep my eyes off the conference room door.

I walked out without an argument, but that did nothing to stop the curiosity about what they were discussing.

I’m glad I’m not having to wait in the rented SUV, but I’d much rather have a little time to myself to shuffle through everything I’ve learned today.