Chapter 41
BLADE
I throw the duffel bag at the lump on the bed. It lands with a dull thud, followed by a startled grunt. “Hey, wake up!” My father sits up, eyes bleary, looking like he’s been sleeping for days. “Pack up, you’re going to Mexico.”
He blinks a few times, rubbing his right eye. “Mexico?!” He looks over at the alarm clock—it reads just after midnight. “You’re waking me up at midnight and saying we have to go to Mexico? Are you high?” He reaches for the glass of whiskey on his nightstand, probably there from before he passed out.
I snatch the cup out of his hand and slam it down. “John put a hit out on you, and you’re worrying about fucking drinking. You’re going to Mexico. Unless you prefer to die.”
His eyes widen, and he mumbles, “Fuck,” before swinging his legs over the bed, standing up unsteadily.
“Yeah, fuck. Now pack up this duffel and that suitcase over there. Only the essentials, and no, that doesn’t include alcohol.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t afford to up and move and—”
“I got you a place there. I’ll send you money from a secret account once the coast is clear.”
He sighs, something like gratitude flickering in his eyes, almost heartfelt. I must be imagining it. He’s never been heartfelt a day in his life. “Why are you giving me this warning? And helping me?”
“I don’t know.” I really don’t know. Why am I doing this for the man who was a terrible father, who was never there for me when I needed him? Even now, if the roles were reversed he’d probably take the money and kill me. It’d be so much easier to just kill him. But something is stopping me from doing it. “Stop questioning your blessings—that’s how you lose them. Now pack up. We don’t have much time.”
He starts stuffing things into the bags. Looking at him, I can’t shake the nagging question gnawing in my mind. “Wanna tell me why John wants you dead?”
He doesn’t look at me as he answers. “Told him I’d tell you the truth. Typical, he goes straight to putting a hit out on me.”
“The truth about what?”
Just as he’s about to throw an old worn shirt into the bag, he pauses. “I saw how upset you were with your mother. Don’t be upset with her, she left because of me.”
And? That’s no excuse to leave a fucking three-year-old to fend for himself, and a six-year-old who eventually grew up and killed himself over his childhood trauma.
“Okay, what does this have to do with you telling me the truth about something?”
He hesitates. “Well, John is your mother’s ex-husband. She did try to come back for ya’ll three years after she left, after she got herself established, but John convinced her they had enough babies running around. That Eli and Jacob were already too much to add another two. So, really, it’s John’s fault you don’t have a good relationship with your mother. Years later, I asked him why he did that. He told me a motherless son is a warrior . He did it on purpose, to breed you and your brother that way until he could come collect you.”
Three years ago, I asked myself the question why. Why me? Turns out the answer is more complicated than I ever would’ve imagined.
I blow out a breath, trying to process the information, my mind spinning in a hundred different directions.
“After the boys grew up, John didn’t need your mother anymore. He tried to leave her, trade her in for a younger model, but she wasn’t going for that. So he got her admitted into a mental hospital against her will. They stuck her with so many medicines and syringes and shock this or trauma that, I don’t think she’s ever been the same since,” he says, stuffing the last of his clothes into the bag. “So just… try to give her some grace. The boys were all she had left, and now they’re both gone.”
This changes everything, and I have to put my plan into motion sooner than I thought.
···
I glance over at my dad in the front passenger seat, his head lolling against the window. He’s tipsy, bursting into occasional, off-key singing that makes me wince. In the backseat, there’s Amelia and Rowan. Rowan was originally in the front driving, but around the four hour mark, he got tired, so we switched.
For the past ten minutes, he’s been mumbling things to Amelia, making her laugh. Like he’s a damn comedian or something. At first, it was just kind of annoying, but now, it’s starting to feel like a match has been struck, letting the anger inside me spark to life. I can feel the heat rising from my chest to my face as I watch them.
I pull out my phone and send her a quick text.
Me: What’s so funny?
She glances at the notification, and out of the rearview mirror, I see her smile fade. She doesn’t reply, just slips her phone back onto her lap and looks out the window.
But then minutes later, she’s back laughing at whatever the idiot said.
I shouldn’t have brought him. But if I wanted to convince John I was killing my dad, I had to treat it like any other mission, which meant bringing someone along for backup.
So, I brought the first person I could find at John’s house, which happened to be Rowan. The little fucker always likes messing with me, always trying to get under my skin every time I come to John’s house. But I know I can trust him not to spill the secret of our real plan tonight, and that’s what matters most.
She laughs again, and I swear they’re getting closer together on the seat. I know he’s doing it on purpose. I don’t want anyone to make her laugh but me, and maybe Frankie, but definitely not him. When she doesn’t stop giggling, I open an app on my phone, pull up the control center, and press a button.
“Oh my God!” Her sudden yelp fills the air. The car goes silent except for my dad’s off-key humming, then Amelia clears her throat. “Sorry, I thought I saw a deer.”
I smirk at her through the mirror, and she glares at me back. Every time she tries to look angry, she just ends up looking cuter. Her face is flushed, eyes widened in surprise as she mouths stop but it only makes my smirk grow wider.
When she took a quick shower at John’s, I swapped out her panties for vibrating ones, meant to rub against her clit. I intended for a few playful buzzes to make the long ride more interesting, but now I can use them to torture her.
The rest of the ride, I press the button a few more times—thanks to Rowan’s dumbass. She still doesn’t learn, or maybe she likes the vibrations.
He places his hand on her fucking thigh.
I could kill him right now.
My grip tightens on the steering wheel as I grind my teeth. The control goes all the way up, and I tap the button as fast as it will go. She doubles over like she has a stomachache, but the smirk on Rowan’s face tells me he knows exactly what’s happening.
Finally, after restraining myself from pummeling his face in, we reach the location. It’s about a mile away from the border. As soon as we pull up, I spot the black SUV parked right where the two guys said they’d be. I step out of the car and open my dad’s door when I see he hasn’t made an attempt to get out.
“A-are you sure this—”
“It’s either this or dying.”
He sighs and stumbles out, and the two guys come to help him to their truck. I don’t know if they’re a part of the cartel or what, but I got their connections from an old member of the Serpents. What my dad doesn’t know is that he’s not heading to some beachside villa to sip margaritas. First stop is a medically-assisted detox, and those two guys will do whatever it takes to keep him there until he’s no longer an alcoholic.
He needs it, and the only way it’ll happen is if he’s forced into it. I’m tired of watching him waste his life away.
As we drive off, I spot a gas station up ahead and pull in. The neon lights buzz quietly in the night, it seems like one of those gas stations you see in horror movies. Maybe I’ve been watching too many of Amelia’s horror movies when she falls asleep watching them.
I turn back to Amelia. “You can get in the front now.” I didn’t want her switching seats in front of those guys. This area is known for heavy trafficking of everything you can imagine—girls, exotic animals, drugs, you name it. And Amelia? She’s the kind of perfect girl that would’ve had them plotting and following us.
Inside the store, the scent of stale coffee hits me immediately. I make a beeline to the candy aisle, grabbing a pack of peanut M&Ms. I go through these twice a day—they’re my current candy obsession.
Oh shit, I forgot to ask Amelia if she wanted anything. I’ll just grab her a ginger ale and chocolate-covered pretzels—her favorite. Even when she says she doesn’t want anything from the gas station, that usually translates to ‘I want my favorite drink and something chocolate’. She’s trained me well.
After paying for the gas and snacks, I head back to the car.
What. The. Fuck.
Blind fury rips through me as I yank the back door open. Rowan’s face was just an inch from Amelia’s as he clicked the button for the window on her side. The part that angers me the most is that she wasn’t doing anything to push him away, just sitting there with his breath on her cheek and corner lip.
I grab her by the neck and pull her out, guiding her to the passenger side. “I thought I fucking told you to get in the front seat,” I growl.
She stammers, but before she can come up with an excuse, I put her in the front seat and circle the car, the tension in my body making my movements sharp. After pumping the gas, I hear Rowan inside the car laughing, a sound that grates on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. The worst part? I look in to see Amelia laughing right along with him.
And that snaps the fucking line that was already a thread away from breaking.
I slam the door and step on the gas. Five minutes later, I’m pulling over in a secluded spot near the woods. I get out, storm around the car, and yank Amelia out, bending her over the passenger seat.
“Aiden—”
“Oh, no. You had five fucking chances. You’re lucky I didn’t crash the car and kill us all when you were in the backseat, practically laughing all over him. So thank me.”
“What?”
“Thank me for not crashing the car and killing us all.”
“T-thank you…” she whispers.
“Such an obedient little slut.”
With my hands moving on their own, I rip her pants down. She gasps but doesn’t resist—I think she knows better than that. She always takes anything I want to give her without complaining, like a good girl. My good girl.
“Do you think you deserve the belt?”
She shakes her head. “Mmh mmh.”
“Of course, you don’t think so.” I deliver a sharp spank to her bare ass, the sound echoing through the woods behind us. “This is what happens when you don’t listen.” Another spank and she whimpers, her voice a mix of pleas and half apologies. “Apologize properly,” I demand, a smack raining down as the words fall out.
Her body jolts, and her cries become raw and desperate. “I’m sorry, Aiden.”
I land another slap, and she pushes her hips back against my hand. I’ve never met anyone who pretends she hates spankings as much as Amelia, but somehow her body is always practically begging for more every time.
“Now, you know that’s not what you call me when you’re in trouble.”
“Blade…” she breathes out.
“Good, now put it all together,” I say, my hand caressing her flushed, red ass. Fuck, it’s so soft and plump, it’s making me get hard just looking at it.
“I’m sorry, Blade.”
I don’t know if it’s her breathy voice, her obedience, her juicy red ass, or the tears streaming down her cheek, but I have to fuck her right now.
“Fuck, I have to claim you.” My voice is low and rough as I unbuckle my belt and pull my pants down just past my thigh tattoo.
I hear a slight increase in Rowan’s breathing from the back seat. He’s trying to be quiet, but my ears are experts at picking up even the smallest of sounds now. I can’t see him, because I’m taller than the car and can’t see anything inside, but I do see Amelia’s pretty fucking pussy sticking in the air, ready for me.
I thrust into her hard, grunting as her tight cunt takes me in all at once. A testament to how soaking wet she is.
She’s pressing her lips firmly together, trying to keep quiet because of the audience. But we can’t have that. So I grab her hips tighter, and pound into her, fucking the living daylights out of her. Each thrust sends a slapping sound of flesh in the air. Her attempts to stay quiet quickly turn into a series of cries and moans, and I smirk at how easy it was to force them out of her.
Fuck, she feels good.
My nails dig into her hips as I slam into her over and over again. I pull out completely each time, just to plunge into her harder.
Grabbing a fistful of her hair, I turn her head to face the backseat. “Tell him you’re mine,” I grunt, my voice thick with wild possession.
She opens her mouth, but only a strangled pant comes out. I tug her hair harder. “You can’t talk right when I’m deep inside you, huh? But you’re going to fucking do it right now because I told you to. And that’s what you do, right? Whatever I tell you.”
I shift, angling myself to hit the spot that she likes, the spot that makes her go crazy.
With a scream, she manages to get the words out. “I’m his.”
“Tell him that you’re my property and that I own you.”
“I’m his p-property and he owns me.”
“Fuck, Amelia.” The satisfaction that washes over me is nearly overwhelming, and I release my grip on her hair. Her face is buried in the seat, her cries muffled, but I keep going, my hard thrusts syncing with her gasps and moans.
Before I know it, I’m ready to come, my cock swelling inside her. It feels like it’s going to tear her open if it grows any bigger.
I’m glad I’m already on the edge because I know I’m not letting her come this time. She’s going to be desperate and whiny and needy the whole five hour ride home, and I might let her come before the night’s over. It’ll be even more torturous when I press the button for her panties throughout the ride, building the ache on her clit even more.
I feel like I need every last drop of my cum deep inside her. But instead, I pull her shirt up and bring her top half to me. I bite down on her neck, groaning while my dick pulsates and rubs against her back, releasing my seed onto it. When I let go of her, she slumps back into the chair, my cum a mess on her back.
I’m still riding the high, my chest heaving as I struggle to steady my breathing. Every time I fuck her, it’s like a drug that completely consumes me, taking over my body and mind. The rush is intense, and I always feel like I’m on cloud nine for at least an hour afterward.
When she tries to get up, I stop her with my hand on the back of her neck. “Ah, ah. Now, did you learn your lesson?”
Her body trembles, her voice whiny. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Blade,” she whispers.
“So what’s going to happen next time someone does something like that?” I demand, rubbing her reddened ass.
“I’ll move away.”
“Good girl. Now stay.”
I pull her jeans back up, leaving her bent over as I quickly make my way to the backseat. My pulse pounds in my ears, although the good fuck did successfully work to dispel some of my anger. Yanking the door open, I glare at Rowan. “You’re lucky I didn’t kill you. Don’t ever flirt with my wife again if you like your head attached to your fucking shoulders.”
He nods frantically, fear swimming in his eyes, which sends a rush of dopamine through me. I caused that fear.
“Get out,” I command.
He stammers, hesitating as if he has a choice. “I-I didn’t mean to—”
I reach down and pull a small revolver from my boot, aiming it directly at him. “When I tell you to get out the car, that means you don’t think, you don’t hesitate, you just get out the fucking car.”
His eyes widen, and he scrambles out, nearly tripping over himself in the process. I keep the gun trained on him, walking him back to where Amelia is still bent over the passenger seat. The only thing exposed is her back.
I grab some tissues from the dash and shove them into Rowan’s hands. “Clean up my mess.”
Relishing in the sight of reducing a grown man to a shaking, nervous wreck as he cleans up what he’s told, a surge of exhilaration floods my veins.
I get drunk on the power and control.
And I might’ve “accidentally” shot him in the foot once he was all done—whoops. What can I say? My hands tend to get a little shaky when I’m annoyed. Must be a condition.