Chapter 3 #2
When I’d woken up, cold and alone and disorientated, I’d reached for her, but she wasn’t there. I called out for her, but she was nowhere in her room. Not sure why, but knowing I had to stay quiet, I tiptoed down the hall.
Something hadn’t felt right, and fear raced down my spine. I checked my room, but she wasn’t there. Then I heard Adriana’s voice. Singing a lullaby. She never did that.
My blood ran cold as I crept closer. With shaking hands, I’d pushed the door to the bathroom open. A scream lodged in my throat, my legs and arms began to shake as I stood frozen.
Talya was face down in the bathtub. Our mother was sitting on a chair, brushing her hair and singing. I started forward, to try to save my sister but Adriana got to her feet and stared at me.
“She won’t be a problem anymore.”
That was all she said before she left me alone. I ran to the bathtub and grabbed Talya, lifting her and pulling her onto the floor. I couldn’t do CPR. I didn’t know how to save her, and I screamed and cried as I shook her, knowing that it was too late to even call 911.
Talya was dead.
I sat there for what felt like an eternity, holding her, my clothes soaked right through. I kissed her perfect but freezing cold forehead and squeezed her tight against me, afraid to let her go.
Then my father came home and found us. He’d been shocked and, for a moment, I swore he was heartbroken as he sat beside me and gently ran his hand over her hair.
Then he took her from me, told me it was a terrible accident, that I wasn’t to say anything to the EMTs or police. Momma was sick, and we had to protect her. He said something awful would happen if I dared open my mouth.
I’d railed at him about how he never protected Talya, that she was just a baby. He’d hit me so hard, my lip split. I hated both of them in that moment. They scared me so bad I couldn’t say anything.
My father covered up that my mother murdered her daughter.
“Elias.”
I jolt out of the memory, my heart pounding. King is standing in front of me, a look of concern in his eyes. He doesn’t usually call us by our given name. I am sure it looks like I’m having some kind of panic attack.
I struggle to hold down the food in my stomach, the need to vomit so strong, I gulp for air. King stays back and watches as I get control of myself.
“You good?” he asks after a few minutes.
I nod, not making eye contact. My fucking cheeks are wet, and I swipe at them with the back of my hand. King doesn’t comment. We stand in silence for a while longer as my breathing slows.
“What do you need?” King asks, eventually.
My baby sister back? King is good at a lot of things but bringing people back from the dead isn’t one of them.
The difference between him and my own father was, if he could do it, he would. He would kill anyone who hurt his daughter. He’s done it for Waverley.
If he learned about what my parents did, he’d help me get revenge on them if that was what I wanted. For a long while I had thought about it. Showing up at that mansion with my brothers behind me, taking from them what they took from her.
There were stories about my disappearance for years. Mostly focused on them, how they lost two children in the space of three days. One dead in a horrible accident, the other taken. Because God forbid, they told anyone I disappeared in the middle of the night because of what they did.
They’re fucking miserable and that is enough for me.
“Can I have a room?” I ask him.
“It’s yours,” he says after studying me. “There are three free, take whichever suits.”
“Thanks.”
“Not a problem.”
I glance off into the darkness behind where the party is still raging. I don’t want to admit to what I want… Need right now.
“Let’s go, a few of us are headed to the back to get away from the fucking noise.”
“You sure?” I ask, knowing he likely means the officers.
“Would I ask?” He gives me a look.
I huff a short laugh then fall into step with him. He doesn’t often show it openly, but King cares about all of us. He knows I can’t be alone right now, but isn’t making a big deal of it. Nor does anyone else when I follow him into his office.
“Get him a drink,” King says, taking the seat behind his desk.
Ballistic pours me a whisky and hands it to me.
They aren’t all officers in here, War and Banshee are missing and there are a couple of other guys not on the council, mostly older guys who have been around here for decades.
They begin chattering and laughing again, about non-club business and I take a seat in the corner.
I catch King’s eye as he gives me a cursory look. I nod, I am okay.
Then we join in laughing as Dirt tells a crazy story about Nut, the previous VP of the club who died from cancer a while back. It goes on that way for a while, I get drunk and eventually stagger up to one of the empty rooms.
The bed is made but there is nothing else in here, except for a poster of a naked chick on a Harley. It might be Hudson’s old room, but I am too drunk to care and fall onto the bed.
Fortunately, no nightmares plague me. I sleep like the fucking dead.