Falling for A Lie (The Lords And Ladies Of Ash #1)

17. Caden

Chapter seventeen

Caden

My mind is still spiraling…

I deserved every hit that Drake threw at me. I took something I knew he wanted because I could. I could have told her, “No.” I could have walked away after dropping the clothes off and had one of them tell her about Mom and what would happen. For once, I could have been the good guy, the less selfish of us. I knew having sex with her could hurt Drake and maybe even the others. But I didn’t care. I thought of my own needs, my desires to feel that pretty cunt of hers impaled on my shaft, taking everything I had and submitting to me and my needs.

My eyes connect with the stoplights as they turn green. I shift my weight slightly as I hit the throttle, propelling myself at breakneck speed on my bike pushing further into the seedier side of Ashford.

The only thing that crosses my mind is that little bag that will take away these troubling thoughts that are plaguing me, telling me just how fucked up and worthless I am. How the others would be happy if I just fucking crashed this bike and ended it all, or if my existence didn’t plague their lives. Maybe they could be happy for once instead of whatever the fuck they are now. Barely surviving, just like myself.

That devil of a woman came back into our lives and brought back feelings that we never wanted to face—things that should have stayed buried. She should have been something other than a task to complete and not get close to.

But Fate, being the funny little bitch that she is, had other plans, and now we are faced with the repercussions of being in Soren’s orbit. Even if it is the same fate that helped us save her life.

Hitting a left harder than I should almost causes me to lose control, but I can recover and straighten myself and the bike. The wind blows against my helmet, and the slight thrumming of “Drag the Lake” by The Amity Affliction plays through the tiny speakers. I take the necessary right turn on the rough gravel road that leads to the run-down cabin that honestly should be condemned, but who am I to judge when I’m only out here to get my next high? Then, fuck off back to my room to wallow in self-pity.

Gripping my helmet and lifting it off over my head, the smell of smoke and cow shit assaulted my broken nose. A gag works its way up my throat, and I choke it down with a strangled gulp as I slide off my parked bike beside the tree lines, praying this is quick so the smell doesn’t cling to my skin and follow me home.

My boots crunch against the broken glass and gravel that litter the walkway as I continue my trek to the front door, not giving my surroundings a second glance. Laughter and shouts follow behind the door as I tap three times.

The door opens to a curly redhead. The smell of marijuana follows him as he offers me a yellow-toothed smile. “Long time since we saw you, pretty boy. What can I do for you?” Harold’s breath hits my face, and I recoil at the scent. I grind my teeth to the gums, causing my still-injured jaw to hurt more.

“Been busy, haven’t had much free time. I need to pick up my usual and head out.” My palms are sweaty, and his eyes lingering on my bruised and beaten face has me second-guessing this whole fucking decision together. But fuck it. I’m here, and there is no backing out now.

He nods at me and turns on his heels, making himself scarce amongst the other junkies that lay in various positions across the mismatched couches and floor. All in different stages of shooting up or snorting what looks like cocaine off a dirty DVD case with what I’m guessing is a communal straw.

The sight turns my stomach, cementing my decision to stay rooted in my position. Not wanting to venture further into the cesspool, I silently send a prayer to Lucifer himself that Harold hurries the hell up. Feeling like I need to get the fuck away from this place before the meth I know they cook here blows up and takes me out of the house.

Harold rounds the corner carrying a brown paper sack with the poison that I’ve chosen countless times before. He holds his hand out to collect the cash I have rolled up. He smirked as he made a show of slowly counting the money and licking his dirty fingers. My face is a perfect mask for hiding my disgust. As soon as he finishes, the sack is in my hand. I turn around quickly, rushing to my bike with an urgent need to escape this fucking place and its smells; I slide my leg over the seat in one swift motion. After securing the sack in my backpack, I shove on my helmet, kick up my stand, and bolt out of there. As my engine revs up, I spin the tires and kick gravel and dirt behind me as I speed away.

Back to the civilized side of town.

My bedroom door creaks under my sweaty palm, and the sack weighs heavily in my bag. I entered the house without the others noticing and wanted to keep it that way.

It’s not necessarily like I was trying to avoid them, but well, fuck that. It’s exactly like that.

Sucking in a deep, shaky breath, I drop to my knees at the end of my bed, rummaging underneath the mattress for what I need, the tiny tin with the mirror and card nestled inside, waiting to be covered in this white powder that’s calling out to me. My hands were shaking harder, needing it more than I wanted to admit. Once my fingers find purchase, I pull it out and suck in a shaky breath as I fumble with the bag to get it open. It takes a few tries, but I can finally remove the lid. Gathering up the blade and mirror, I slowly chop and grind the powder into tiny white lines. Once the four lines are evenly lined up, I grip the tiny straw between my fingers and slide it into my less swollen nostril. Holding the opposite nostril closed, I snort each line, making sure to get every last bit. My broken nose aches, but only until the high hits me. I feel it on my toes as I drop my head against my mattress to stare at the ceiling. Sitting in blissful stillness, the cold air from the above air conditioner kicking on, feels like an ice cube sliding down my overheated skin. I tightly grip the rug below me and slowly pray that my brothers leave me alone for the night. Letting me enjoy the peace that the high brings while it erases my sorrows and shame. The feeling of barely coasting by is replaced with the sense of nothing. Nothing but the high that’s causing my heartbeat to rise and my blood to feel like it’s flowing fast and slow simultaneously.

Finally, the thoughts of Soren have evacuated my consciousness, and I can breathe. Even if it’s a task within itself, it’s better than remembering her moaning as I took her as rough as I always imagined I would. How her lips tasted like honey and strawberries, her breathy moans that made me feel like a man reborn, and the way she dripped down my shaft as we both came as one.

Groaning, I grab the Jack bottle from the night before and unscrew the lid. As I take a vast, messy gulp, some dribbles down my chin as another thought crosses my mind. I don’t want to see Drake after the fight between us, where it took everything in me not to hit him back. I deserved to take the punches. Instead, I let him exercise the demons that are causing him not to eat or sleep. He is constantly glued to his computers, as if staring at the screens will make her appear. I’m sure she will know she’s being watched if she does appear.

He’s using the mission of hacking into the mayor’s accounts to play off on his lack of sleep and eating. But we are not as stupid as he likes to think we are. We have often caught him looking at things other than the files on the mayor .

Radley has been spending most of his time in the gym, working with Henderson to prepare for the next fight that’s supposed to take place on the first of April. He’s going against a target that the Lords do not want to walk out of the ring, so they’re sending the best of us into that ring to handle the job. I’m not sure what the poor wanker did to gain the wrath of the lords so that they would sic their most vicious of fighters in that ring in there with them, especially with the demons that Radley is currently battling. It’s an instant death wish even without the Lord's ordered hit. The last six guys Rad has fought in underground matches have been wheeled out on a stretcher, either so severely beaten that they couldn’t get out of the ring themselves or they no longer suffered with the rest of us in the land of the living.

Creed has turned to getting his newest Toyota Supra MK IV race-ready. He’s spent many nights and mornings drowning his sorrows in booze and car parts since we last saw Soren. Now that I think of it, maybe he has the healthiest habits of dealing with this bullshit we are suffering through. It also helps that the Lords have him staying under the radar and gathering information on specific targets during the races, playing the perfect role of the spy before we are sent to end their lives. Like obedient lap dogs, we have slowly started to become .

And Me, I'm meant to remain the ever-obedient enforcer who backs those in power. I enforce the laws, ensure they are followed thoroughly, and punish those who are not.

The soldier and yet the pawn all in one. Fighting everyone’s battles while faking the strength I no longer possess, missing a ghost that, with one blissful moment of weakness, stole my soul and refused to give it back when she left.

The effects of alcohol gradually vie for dominance over the drugs. Barely moving from the floor to my bed, I collapse into a tranquil darkness where dreams seem to elude me, finally allowing me to rest.

No thoughts of the fucked up day.

No thoughts of Soren.

No thoughts of being broken.

Nothing.

Just Darkness.