Reign (The Henchmen MC 1)

Well...

Fuck. That.

I'd known anger in a sort of detached way. A little flare up every now again when my father said something out of turn or a girlfriend said something that seemed unnecessarily bitchy. Or when someone cut me off in traffic and then forgot how to use the gas pedal after. Little things. Daily things. The kind of things that caused a little bit of heat, a few snippy words.

But this wasn't anger.

This was rage.

My hands curled into fists at my sides, my air huffed hard out of my nose, heat rose to the surface of my skin, and every inch of me felt like it was buzzing.

“Summer?” Reign's voice reached me, sounding almost concerned. But it came to me as if from a distance. Because, for me, he wasn't there anymore. Neither were Cash or Wolf. It was just me and one of my demons.

And I wasn't cowering and screaming anymore.

“Cherry, you alright?” Cash's voice breezed past me.

Before the decision was even made in the rational part of my brain, I flew at him. I was across the floor before anyone could even blink. My closed fist cocked back and swung with every bit of my (admittedly not much) weight. But lack of girth aside, it landed with a satisfying crack, making his head snap, and sending a shock of pain through my knuckles and up my arm.

But pain was nothing new.

And it sure as shit didn't stop me.

“You mother fucker,” I growled, slamming my fist hard near his eye socket.

Then it was just pure adrenaline and instinct. My hands, nails, fists, hitting, scratching, punching everywhere within reach: face, chest, stomach. One hard knee to the groin which finally made his smile slip and a groan escape his mouth.

I felt like I went at him forever, finding a deep well of rage underneath the surface, filled with the memories, the nightmares. Filled with every moment of helplessness and humiliation. Filled so full that I was sure I would never get to the bottom of it. That I could beat him into a unrecognizable pile of flesh and not even spend half of the anger.

Then an arm went around my waist, tight, squeezing, pulling me backward as I tried to keep hitting.

“Guess that was my nod, huh?” Reign's amused voice said in my ear.

The sound made the red taking over my whole body subside, moving quickly backward, making me acutely aware of the pain in my hands, the blood on them, the reality of what I had done, the fact that I had an audience.

My eyes snapped over to Cash and Wolf. Wolf looked downright amused, his lips turning up ever so slightly, crinkles next to his eyes.

Cash shrugged a shoulder at me. “Guess you earned that, huh?” he asked, giving me a smile.

I looked back down at Deke, whose smile seemed permanently missing. His eyes were on me.

“You're gonna kill him?” I asked, my voice almost hollow. Because I didn't care. I should have cared. He was a human being. He was bound. And I was pretty sure they were going to take his final breath from him. A normal person would be horrified. All I could feel was hope.

“Yeah, babe,” Reign said in my ear, still pulling me backward.

My eyes went back to Deke. “Rot in hell you sick sonovabitch.”

Then I was hauled outside, the door slamming and locking.

“Let me go, Reign,” I struggled, only to be pulled up off my feet and carried across the field by my belly.

How he managed to walk backward, holding a struggling woman against his chest, and not missing a step was totally beyond me. We stopped walking and I felt Reign lean back against the wall of the compound. My feet touched back down, but his hand stayed around my waist.

“Take a breath,” he demanded, his voice low.

I sucked in air, feeling it settle me inside. “You can let me go. I'm not gonna make a run for it.”

“I'll hang onto you for another minute,” he said. “How are your hands?”

“They're fine.”

“Summer...” his voice said, sounding like he was trying to reason with me.

“Fine. They hurt like a bitch.”

His chuckle made the hair next to my ear move, his body shaking slightly against me. The sound was doing all kinds of things to tramp down the rage and replace it with something else. “Of all the things I had expected to happen in that room,” he started, his hand loosening around my middle a little. It didn't need to be there. I was leaning my back against his chest. “That was one I had not counted on.”

“What were the other options? Me to freeze? Or to start freaking out and crying or something?”

“Pretty much.”

“You think I'm that weak?” I asked, feeling a strange rush of sadness overtake me. Maybe, in my life before everything, maybe I would have been okay being seen as soft and feminine. Maybe I even would have taken a small amount of pride in that. But that was before. That was before I was taken and drugged and beat and starved. That was before I knew what softness meant- powerlessness. That was before I learned that the worst thing a woman could ever be in life is weak.

“I don't think you're weak,” he said, his voice firm.

“Right,” I said, dryly.

His arm tightened around my belly again. “Summer. You're not weak. You've been through shit that most people would never even have the imagination to dream up in a nightmare. You've suffered and you've survived. You're not weak. But I figured you would feel like he still had some kind of power over you. That isn't weakness. That's trauma.”

“I didn't feel under his power,” I said, losing some of the tension in my shoulders. “I felt powerful. And I wanted him to know what it felt like to be under my power. I wanted him to hurt like he used to hurt me. And I know it's wrong of me. It's like... evil... but I'm glad you're going to kill him.”