Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
CHAOS
My eyes are open, fixed on the ceiling mirror. It reflects the entire room beneath it, everything that moves and sits still.
I am lying on a leather tattoo table, staring at the back of the artist who is part of the Fallen Saints motorcycle club. The logo is stamped across his leather jacket, a white spray-painted circle with horns and two Xs for eyes.
His hands work at my neck, shaping wings into my skin. Today I earned my wings. I am part of the gang. The machine buzzes in my ears, and all I feel is the needle pressing in, dragging heat and sting across my flesh.
I close my eyes, and 2016 rises up behind my eyelids, a night when all of it started.
2016.
Earlier, Nico texted me that Carmen was at the party, being carried into a bedroom by Axel, and that she had to be drugged. I rushed from the hospital to get her.
Something snapped in me at the thought of him touching her, especially after the rumors at school came through that Knox and Axel had been doing this to girls for a while. I pulled the white ski mask on.
I knew what had to be done. So I did it. I made sure he never touched her again.
I took her from Axel and carried her downstairs, holding her tight against my chest. Her eyes were closed, but somehow the only name on her lips was mine.
I texted Nico what happened so he and Harper could sneak out of the party and bring the car around back, where I waited for them. When they pulled up, I guided her into the back seat of Nico’s car.
“Is she okay?” Nico asked as I sat down beside her, closed the door, and motioned for him to drive. I pulled the white ski mask off.
I shook my head and signed. He tried to rape her.
“Fuck,” he shouted, slamming his palm against the wheel. “Are you okay, man?”
I am, but Axel won’t make it. I made sure of that. I signed.
He nodded and drove. I held Carmen close in my arms. Her red lipstick was smeared, her eyes completely shut. She still shook, her lips forming a broken whisper. “No.”
“She’s still in shock,” Harper said, looking back at us.
I stared out the window. I had promised myself I would do anything to protect her, even if it meant killing someone. I was eighteen. If they found out I was the one who stabbed Axel, I wouldn’t face juvenile charges, but jail time. I had no plan ahead. I only knew I wanted to stay with her.
We stopped in front of the driveway. Nico turned to me.
“You’ll have to run, man,” he said. “We have to figure something out.”
I nodded and opened the door.
“We’ll wait here,” Harper said.
I walked toward the house. With every step, I held her tighter, knowing Nico was right. I would have to leave her here and disappear.
I opened the door and went inside. The smell of blood hit me, and I felt numb to it.
My hoodie and black jeans were soaked. I carried her upstairs to her bedroom and sat her on the bed, pulling her dress off.
I went to the closet and took one of the black shirts I had gotten her, sliding it over her head.
I had made the maids replace her pastel clothes with the black-and-white she liked, so she would always have something that felt like her.
I laid her down. As her head touched the pillow, she murmured, “Judas.” Her eyes fluttered open. “Hey,” she whispered.
I typed the message and held the screen up for her to see.
I’m sorry, little sister. I’m sorry, I have to leave.
“No,” she whimpered. “Don’t go.”
I couldn’t reassure her that I would stay. I leaned in and kissed her forehead. Just before her eyes closed again, she whispered, “When we turn eighteen, we will drive so far away from here.”
I nodded, my chest tightening.
I promise. I promise we will.
I stepped away and went to the balcony, my phone still in my hands. I reset it, erasing every message, every photo, every trace as if none of it had ever existed. I climbed over the railing and back to my own balcony, leaving the phone behind on the table.
I had to go, I had to.
I moved back onto the balcony, crossed the railing, and jumped down onto the grass. As soon as Nico saw me, he turned the car back on. I ran toward him.
Let’s go, I signed.
I slid into the back seat, and we drove off.
“What’s the plan?” Nico asked.
I shrugged. I had no idea what came next. My mind held only Carmen and the thought of finding my way back to her.
“Why don’t you fake your death?” Harper said. “You know, like in the movies.”
Nico looked at me, his eyes searching mine. “This might not be a bad idea, Judas.”
And where would I go? I signed.
“I know a place,” he said as he looked at me, then Harper.
That was all it took.
We drove to the cliffs. I left my shoes and the mask at the edge, making it look like I had jumped. Harper called 911 and said she had seen a man in a white ski mask go over the cliff. When she ended the call, she threw the phone into the ocean so it couldn’t be traced.
A new life. But a new life without Carmen.
“I’m taking you to the Fallen Saints,” Nico said. “But you’ll need a new name.”
Chaos, I signed.
“Chaos,” he repeated.
I looked out at the ocean one last time. I knew I had broken her heart. I also knew I would have broken her even more if I had stayed and let her carry the weight of everything I had done.
I open my eyes, and the man is almost done. The needle drags along my neck, shadowing the wings he just tattooed there. The buzz fades, and when he finally leans back, he says, “Welcome, Chaos. You are one of us now.”
He lifts his head. I meet his brown eyes, and all I see is a man like me, someone who escaped the same life that still hunts me.
Nico pushes through the door, laughing. I slide off the tattoo table, my skin still burning with fresh ink that’s now tight against my throat.
1“Ay, cabrón.” He claps his hands and lowers himself, offering me his grip. “One of us.”
I tilt my head back and catch my reflection in the mirror above. Tattoos I got a year before stare back at me. A skull spreads across my back. My arms are crowded with palm trees and roses, thunder and clouds. A broken chain wraps around her name, Little Ruin.
No one knows about her. No one knows I've stood beneath her window every night for a year, counting people that visit her, listening to their footsteps, making sure no one climbs that balcony. Nothing and no one would stop me from killing them, one by one.
I have done it before. I will do it again.
She is still in the same house with Catherine. My father lives with Simona now. Even though my mother is happier now with Lucas, and from what I have seen, my father looks happier with Simona, too, the thought still burns. They all moved on like I never existed.
But she didn’t.
Carmen still sits on the balcony every night, waiting. Hoping I will come back.
I promised her I would. I promised I would take her away when she turned eighteen.
She turned eighteen yesterday.
I am coming for you, little sister, whether you like it or not.
Nico pulls me out of it, his voice low. “The president wants to see you, Chaos.”
I nod and step away from the table.
I sign, thank you to the tattoo artist. He answers with a short nod.
I follow Nico through the red curtains and into the bar the President owns.
The bar is on the right side of the room.
On the left are two long billiard tables.
Members in leather jackets leaning over their shots, pool cues cracking against the balls.
The sound is rolling through the smoke as the low music of ‘Guns and Roses’ plays in the background.
Every single one of them wears the same jacket I do.
Fallen Saints. Criminals. Men who hide from the world, from the law, and even from the people who once loved them. Every one of us came here as just a regular person, until one single moment twisted us into something else. Monsters. The moment that made us Fallen Saints.
Nico knocks on the wooden door set into the wall beside the bar. The door opens, and the President stands there, watching us enter.
No one knows his real name. No one knows anyone’s real name here. We choose them. Even Nico is not Nico. They call him Saint, because most of the men who walk through these doors do it because he saved them.
Just like he saved me.
“Chaos,” the President says. “Now that you are one of us, your first job is to help us rob a mansion in Del Mar.”
My jaw tightens. I swallow, hoping it is not my father’s house. I pray Carmen will not be there, because when it comes to women, they are ruthless.
I nod.
He squints, holding my eyes. Then he presses a black bandana and a gun into my hands. I slide the gun behind my back and stuff the bandana into the pocket of my jeans.
“Tomorrow. One in the morning,” the President says. “It’s the Harrington house.”
Fuck.
Nico doesn’t say a word. He just looks at me, then drops his gaze to the floor. I keep my face still. When the President offers his hand, I take it and shake.
“Judge William Harrington has been a pain in my ass for years,” he says. “This is how I will pay him back. When you are done, you burn the place to the ground.”
I nod again.
“Wonderful.” He claps his hands and drops into his chair, boots up on the table. He bites down on a cigar and waves us off. “Why are you still here? Go.”
Nico taps my shoulder, and we turn and walk out.
The men track us with their eyes. Some laugh. Some nod. Some look like they wish we were not here at all. We keep moving and head back toward the bar.
Nico calls out to the waitress. The President’s daughter. None other than Harper.
No one here knows she and Nico are together.
There is something about forbidden love that makes your blood run faster, makes your heart chase what it is not supposed to touch. It pulls you in like a magnet. Like a moth to flame. That’s why they never judged me for wanting Carmen.
They know what it is like to be someone’s favorite secret.
Harper leans in, her eyes locked on Nico.
“What do you want, Saint?” She winks, chews her gum, stretches it between her fingers, and blows a small bubble that pops against her lips.
“My two favorite men,” he says. “Jack for Chaos. Johnny for me.”
She smirks. “You into men now, Saint?”
She grabs the bottles and pours them into the whiskey glasses lined up on the counter.
“Maybe,” Nico says, eyes dropping to her as she leans forward to put the bottles back. He bites his lip.
I shove him, laughing. When he notices the looks from around the bar, he clears his throat.
“No,” he says. “I like my women just fine.” Then, lower, “And redheads.”
Harper laughs and straightens.
“Really?” She slides the glasses toward us.
“Didn’t notice.” She lets her hair fall loose around her shoulders.
You two need to get a room, I sign to Nico.
You are the one who needs to get laid, he signs back.
I haven’t been with a woman for two years. Not since that night.
How could I be? My mind, my heart, and my whole body belong to her. She is the only thing on my mind when I’m in the shower, touching myself until I stop thinking about her. But she never leaves my head. Never.
I raise a brow at him and sign back. I turned my faith to God. I am fully celibate.
She is my God. The only one I ever needed.
“Wow,” he says, taking a sip of his whiskey. “A dry dick won’t wash away the sins you made.”
I laugh.
I know, I sign.
Harper turns toward me. “His heart got broken, Saint. There’s only one woman who can fix it.” She lifts the cloth in the air, hands up in surrender. “Just saying.”
“You have to forget her,” Nico says. “You can’t wait for a ghost from the past. This is your life now.”
How do you let go of someone you never wanted to let go of? How do you call someone the past when she is every thought of my present and every shape of my future?
I just nod.
In two years here, I learned that agreeing keeps the peace. It brings favors. It keeps me out of fights I can’t win. I forced myself to speak more; I learned word by word. No one knows, because I keep my words just for her.
My voice is hers, too.
I had this plan. Learn everything about her. Take her back. Keep her close until she loves me again, until she forgives me for ever leaving.
I turn toward the window and lift the glass. Night has already settled, and as I tilt my head towards my wrist, my watch reads ten.
Time to go.
It takes an hour to reach her. And tonight, I have to bring her a birthday present.
I sign to Nico and Harper. I have to go.
Nico lifts his glass like he already knows. I raise a hand to the men in the bar and step outside toward my bike.
My taste never changes. My blue Yamaha MT-03 waits in the parking of the Fallen Saints bar, alongside at least twelve other bikes. I walk up, pull on my helmet, and swing into the seat.
Over here, everything is taken or won. I won what is mine. I will win Carmen again, too.
The engine starts, and I twist the throttle, rubber sliding against dust as I pull away from the bar.
The road teaches me how to let go without breaking. Every curve shows me who I am. No one else does. Because I have no one, I left everything behind.
I push faster, stop watching the speed. The road takes what I can’t carry anymore. It gives me control over what I never had control over at all.
I noticed a gas station on the right as I sped by. I circle back. I need a small box for her present.
My little sister will be so happy when she sees it. She will finally see what happens to the boys who try to get too close.
It will be like bonding all over again.
I laugh.
She was right about one thing.
I am a psycho. Her psycho.
1. Asshole.