He needed me.
Moving my hand south, I took his length in my hand. Flame’s loud groan filled the room. Tears swam in my eyes as I began moving my hand back and forth, giving him the relief, I knew he craved. I would not let him be consumed by the flames he believed ran through his body. I would not see him in pain. Flame’s scratches became harder and more violent the faster I worked my hand. But I kept going. Took care of him until he threw his head back and roared out a guttural, agonized cry, as he spilled his release onto the ground between us. I bit my lip to keep from sobbing. His skin was slick with sweat, his arms bloodied from the pain he had forced upon himself. But in the aftermath, in mere minutes, Flame became sleepy. His hand remained in mine. I had held on to his hand throughout it all. He had held on to me.
“I’m sorry,” Flame apologized, his broken voice cutting through the silence.
“No,” I whispered.
“The flames… the flames burned too hot…” he murmured, his eyes heavy with exhaustion.
“Let us go to bed,” I suggested and waited for him to move. I would not leave him on this spot. Flame blinked up at me, and he was still the most beautiful man I had ever seen. It amazed me how he continued to steal my heart every single day. “You need sleep, baby. Let us sleep.” He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something else. But words failed him. Taking his hand, I guided him to his feet. Flame followed me into the bedroom. He lay down and I lay before him. I clasped his hand and brought it to my mouth. “I love you.”
Flame did not respond at first, and then he said, “You’re not allowed to die.” His eyes closed, his mouth parted in slumber, but his words replayed in my head like a twister. You’re not allowed to die…
I stayed absolutely still, holding his hand as his breathing evened out with sleep. I surveyed his body. My attention fixed itself on his arm, now spattered with freshly drawn blood. Releasing my hand from his, I silently moved from the bed and retrieved a washcloth. Careful not to wake him, I wiped the cloth along his arm, cleansing his blood and washing the evidence of his pain away. I cleaned his stomach and his thighs, and then I paused, just watching the peaceful sleep he was now in. My chest tightened. I ran my hand through his dark hair. “I need you with me,” I confessed to no one but myself. “I cannot do this without you, baby.”
I covered Flame with the comforter, then went into the living room and mopped up the mess that had been made mere moments before. As I was heading into the bedroom, the front door opened, and Asher stumbled through. I smelled the alcohol before he even came into the light. For the second time tonight, my heart cried for a Cade brother.
“Asher,” I said quietly as he moved to the kitchen.
His bloodshot eyes lifted and tried to focus on me. He smelled of tobacco too. “Madds,” he slurred and walked toward his room.
I wanted to talk to him. I wanted him to talk to me. I knew that in this inebriated state it was pointless. But the dark rings below his eyes, his messy black hair… Asher was the living embodiment of pain and grief. Where Flame did not show it in his expression, Asher told the story of his loss and guilt in his every feature. Asher and Flame may have been two very different people, but they both were consumed by their guilt and sins until it became the very essence of who they were.
Seeing Asher in this state, I could not leave him. Just as he reached the door to his room, I said, “Asher?”
His shoulders tensed under his leather jacket. He eventually turned to look at me. “What?” he snapped, fire and rebellion replacing the sorrow in his eyes. But the depth of pain on his face shredded my heart.
I walked up to him. Asher was a statue—as tall as Flame, and with the same dark eyes and hair. I imagined this to be exactly what Flame had looked like when he was the same age and the image pressed another bruise on my heart. I reached for his hand and gently squeezed his fingers. Asher’s lips tightened. I thought he would pull away, but, surprising me, he held on.
He held on so tightly.
“You are loved.” I wanted to heal him. I wanted to see again the boy who had never seen his best friend die while saving his life. The sweet boy who blushed when anyone talked to him, the boy with the smile that would win over even the most walled of hearts. I believed he was still in there somewhere, hidden under layers of pain. I believed that, one day, if we could peel back those layers, we would see him again. Inching closer, I placed my hand on his cheek. His breathing hitched at the contact. I was not sure if he knew it, but he leaned into my palm, seeking comfort. “You are loved. You are so very, very loved.”
Asher embraced my touch for several seconds, before he backed away, my hand dropping back to my side. The door closed, a barrier between us. He was lost to me once more. I did not move. I stayed, shifting my gaze between Asher’s room and that which held my husband. They were both broken. I loved them both. And, somehow, I would see them both healed.
Feeling a wave of tiredness, I made my way back to my bed. Flame was still sleeping, but his brow was strained. As I slipped into bed beside him and took his hand, his forehead lost its tension and he rolled toward me. The warmth that sprouted in my heart was that of hope. We would get through this. We would always wrestle our demons and win, no matter how hard the fight.
Lifting my nightgown, I laid his hand on my bare stomach, placing my hand on top. “We can do this,” I whispered and rested my head upon his broad chest. “We can be parents, and we can be happy. I know we can. We just have to believe it, Flame. We just have trust ourselves and believe…”
Chapter Three
Lil Ash
Darkness. That’s all my fucking life was. Fucking pitch black darkness. And an anger so strong that I shook with rage. Every time I closed my eyes I was back in that moment, when the cartel and the Klan had taken us prospects hostage. When they said they would let us go, unharmed… but instead the Diego pulled out his gun and aimed it at my head. As he lined the barrel up with my skull, I knew that was the end for me. I knew it was my time to go. It was fucking freaky. A sense of numbness washed over my body as I looked at my fellow Hangmen and found my brother. He was watching me, pacing, losing his shit at seeing me in Diego’s hold. I waited for death to come. But something knocked me to the ground from the side. I looked up just as Diego re-aimed the gun away from me. His gun’s chamber released a bullet—a bullet meant for me.
Slash. Fucking Slash, my best friend, on the ground, blood pouring from his head. He’d sacrificed himself for me. Slash had fucking died for me. I tried to get the image of his eyes wide open, staring at nothing, out of my head. But the image stayed put. It haunted me, constantly reminding me that it should have been me lying dead on the ground, not fucking Slash. I wanted to rip the image from my brain. But the sight of my best friend, dead, never went away. It was fucking tattooed on my brain forever. My guilt was like a fucking festering sore, poisoning my body with anger, violence, and so much fucking darkness I felt I was a motherfucking VIP in Tartarus.
“Mr. Cade?” A voice was trying to cut into my thoughts, of the memory of me reaching for a gun and opening firing on the cunts that had just killed my friend. I’d used the newfound darkness that occupied my soul to exact revenge. I’d had to do something for my friend who had just fucking bled out on the ground at my feet. My blood sang as the bullets sliced through flesh, the feeling of delivering death was like a hit of heroin. But no matter how many people I took down, the anger stayed put. Every day the anger grew stronger and the blackness grew darker, until it was all that defined me. It had a pulse, a heartbeat throbbing every fucking day until I exhaled nothing but rage. Nothing helped. It felt like there was no fucking way back to the old me.
“Mr. Cade!” Mr. Benson’s louder tone ripped me from the sinkhole that was my ever fucked up mind. I blinked, the starkly decorated classroom coming back into focus. The other students in the classroom were watching me, some blankly through boredom, others with disgust. I was a Hangmen kid. To these rich, entitled
fuckers, I was shit on the soles of their designer shoes. Zane and me were nothing. I was glad. I didn’t ever be one of these privileged fuckers. I was brought up being locked up in a cellar. What the fuck did they know about struggling?
“Mr. Cade!”
“What?” I snapped. Mr. Benson’s eyes narrowed at my outspoken attitude.
“Have you even been listening?”
I couldn’t be fucked with this shit. Why the fuck was I in a classroom supposedly learning about shit I didn’t care about, when there were cartel members still in Texas that needed taking out? I wouldn’t stop until anyone who had even bought, or distributed Quintana’s shit was dead. Styx didn’t understand. He had just banned me from the club, also Smiler, who had disappeared of the face of the fucking earth. The only other person who understood how I felt had fucked off. I was consumed by anger. But Smiler…? The devil had him now. I’d retained enough of myself to understand that the difference between him and me was profound. He’d lost his cousin. Slash was practically his son. I saw in Smiler’s eyes that the old Smiler was never ever coming back. Didn’t fucking want to come back. Hades well and truly owned him now. Me? I was busy trying to cling the fuck on to some distant flicker of fucking light. But I was losing. I could feel I was losing the fucking battle with every minute that passed.
The bell rang, ending the session and my standoff with Mr. Benson. I grabbed my stuff and strode out of the door before he could even try to have a heart to heart with me. He’d tried and failed many times before. I didn’t care what anyone at this school had to say about me. I saw how they looked at us: the bikers. The guys all feared us. The bitches wanted to fuck us, but it was all from afar. No one came close. I was glad. I had a family at the club. Or at least I did, until I was thrown out for trying to get revenge for a brother who was slain in cold blood. The kills were fucking just.
I smashed out of the door and headed toward the bleachers. It was lunch and I needed a motherfucking smoke. Tobacco and whiskey were the only things keeping me from climbing the fucking walls on the daily. As the dry grass crunched under my feet, I thought back to AK slamming my door open this morning and dragging me from my bed. “You’re going to school. This shit stops now. You’ll graduate if I have to sit in the fucking classes with you myself.” I snapped my arm back from him, ready to fucking tell him where to go, when Maddie entered the doorway. Her green eyes were so fucking sad. Something was going on with her lately. She was acting weird and she looked sick all the damn time. Flame was fucking falling apart over it. My brother paced all the time, his black eyes were blown and totally fucking psychotic. I should’ve asked him what was up or asked Madds. But I didn’t want to know any of it, couldn’t handle any more bad news. So I stayed the fuck away as much as I could. Got fucked up when I had no choice but to be at home.
Drunk felt a whole lot better than sober. Sober brought memories of Slash taking a slug to his fucking head. Why the fuck would I want to relive that?
“Asher,” Maddie had said, her soft voice never raised, even when I was being a complete dick. Memories from last night flickered in my head like an old black and white movie. My feet were glued to the spot and I recalled her hand on my face… you are loved… you are so very, very loved…
Maddie had stood beside AK, whose arms were folded over his chest. My jaw fucking clenched at the way he was watching me—strict, unmoving, but laced with empathy. I didn’t want pity. I just wanted this damn darkness to go away. “Asher,” Maddie repeated. pulled my gaze away from AK. “Sapphira is starting school today. Your school.” On hearing those words, something fucking insane happened inside my mind, something that hadn’t happened in weeks and weeks. At the sound of her name, at the image that quickly popped into my head, my anger receded for a brief fucking moment. Blond hair and brown eyes flashed in front of my mind’s eye. Pink lips and dimpled cheeks, a barely there smile. I coughed when a fucking dull ache slammed into my chest.
Sapphira. Saffie. The fucking ghost who lived next door. A recluse occupying her house like a damn fairytale princess—though her life had been anything but a fairytale. Like me, she’d been dragged up in hell. No, her life had been a shit ton worse. The most beautiful bitch I’d ever seen was also the most broken.
Saffie hardly ever talked, yet she was starting school? What the fuck? Was she even fucking capable of leaving the damn house?
“You need to be there to watch out for her,” AK said. “You and Zane. I’ve already spoken to him. He knows how big this is for her.” AK was pissed at me. I could see it plain as day and hear it in how he talked. Well, fucking checkmate. I was fucking pissed at the world and every fucker in it.
AK dropped his arms and sighed. “Look, kid. I know you’re going through shit right now. I get it. I’ve gone through something similar. When anger and guilt eats at you like cancer. But Saff is fucking terrified of this school shit. I know she is. Shit, she’s fucking scared of this life shit. Phebe is terrified for her, thinks it’ll fucking break her brain more than it already is. But Saff wants to go. Says she needs to do this. Fuck knows why now, but she’s insisting. Says she needs to fucking face real life head on or some shit, face her biggest fears. No more hiding. Said she needs to just try.”
AK pointed at me. “I need you there to tell any fucker that goes near her to fuck off. You get me? No one even looks at her wrong without you getting in their face. She speaks different, that cult accent all the bitches have will draw attention to her. Kids will be shits about that.” He folded his arms. “But they won’t even blink in her direction if you and Zane make it clear whose family she belongs to. Whose protection she can call on. I’ve made it real fucking clear to the school that she’s watched and protected at all times. That they don’t force her into anything she doesn’t want to do. Speak if she doesn’t want to speak.”
“She trusts you,” Maddie said softly. “Saffie trusts you. For some reason she is comfortable in your presence. I am not sure you know how rare that is for her. Around men, she is still extremely fragile. But you… she relaxes when you are close. She breathes more easily.” My heart started fucking pounding against my rib cage. I wanted to tell them to screw school. I had more important things to do, club suspension or not. But every time I went to open my mouth, I saw Saffie’s fucking face. Her perfect fucking face. And that tiny smile she gave me and only fucking me. The one that was barely there, but shined like the fucking sun to me.
“Please, Asher,” Maddie pleaded. Her expression changed, and she sighed sadly. “She reminds me of myself.” Maddie smiled, but it was anything but happy. It was fucking tragic. All these cult survivors’ lives were tragic. “When I left The Order I was so lost. The things that had been done to us there…” My hands curled into fists at my side and the anger that now lived in my dark heart began to spike. I thought about any fucker hurting Madds and seethed. I loved Madds. She was practically my mama. But then thinking of Saffie… thinking of any fucker touching her, fucking her against her will… I became killing mad. She was too timid, too fucking small and perfect… “I did not want to leave my room when I came to the Hangmen. It took me a long time to finally find the courage.” Maddie’s head bowed. “It took your brother needing me to change things for me. His desperation made me find the courage to open the door to my room and step outside, where I believed it was unsafe. Saffie, bless her soul, has somehow found that courage on her own. She has found the strength to try and live a life beyond her hurtful past. Something is propelling her to try. Whatever that something is, I am not sure you understand the gravity of this moment.”
Maddie stood before me. I looked down at her now. Maddie was tiny. “You share that in common, Asher. Your pasts…” I thought of my old man locking me in that cellar. Of my mama, hanging on the tree outside, choosing death instead of the sadistic fucker who abused her. Instead of her kid. My stomach clenched so fucking tight that I had to hold my breath to contain the sinking feeling that image of my mama always conjured.
r /> The world was fucked. Everything in it was shit.
“You take your truck,” AK instructed, from behind us. “I’ll take Saff in. Me, Phebe and Saff have to meet with the principal and shit.” I took a deep breath, feeling the alcohol from last night sitting like lead in my stomach. “You and Zane bring her back in your truck. Yeah?”
I wanted to say no. I wanted to crawl back into bed, to sleep and forget the world. But Saffie’s face wouldn’t leave my brain. Her soft voice with that fucking accent whispered in my ears to help her, to protect her. I wanted to fight the voice and tell AK and Maddie that all she wasn’t my responsibility. But I eventually nodded. What the fuck else was I meant to do? Styx had banned me from the club. Smiler had disappeared. Zane would be at school. And this was about Saffie. Fucking Sapphira Deyes. The bitch who constantly invaded my dreams. The one I thought of more than not.
“Watch out for her, yeah?” AK said, then went to leave the room. Before he left, he turned back and met my eyes. “Thanks, kid,” he said, and I felt something deep down, something like fucking calmness trying to push against my permanent anger. But the darkness was too strong, and whatever calm feeling trying to break through quickly melted into nothing.
AK left. Maddie took my hand and squeezed it. “Thank you, Asher. This will mean so much to AK and Phebe.” She sighed. “It will mean the world to Sapphira. She may not tell you that, but it does not make it any less true. She will appreciate it more than you will ever know.”
I nodded once, my stomach tightening at that potential truth. “I need to shower.”
Maddie left me alone and I closed my eyes. I breathed slowly until the rising anger was tamed. Saffie… fucking Saffie at school. I couldn’t imagine it. Couldn’t imagine seeing her walking down the hall, all that blond hair and perfect eyes and lips. I knew if anyone even looked at her wrong, I’d end up getting expelled. No one fucked with her. Just the thought of it had my hands curled into fists and my body braced to tear assholes apart.