Chapter 24 Bane
Bane
Slade has been silent since I almost lost control not once but twice and almost kissed her. And let’s be honest, I didn’t want to just kiss her; I wanted to ravage her like a fucking madman. That kiss would’ve had the power to level countries.
And I never kiss.
Ever.
She walks beside me as I take us to a different part of the clubhouse; one that is only used by the Council.
It would surprise everyone if they knew, but Ash loves to cook.
When he has time, he does so in this private, cozy kitchen, or he’ll periodically cook in his suite.
Pix and Army will cook and eat back here, and Pix always ensures that Digits eats, often taking his food up to his tower because he’s hard to convince to leave his beloved computers and equipment.
For me, I usually eat with the Council or whatever Cherry and the Bunnies made. Until I made my deal with Slade.
The commercial kitchen is busy right now with Cherry and the Bunnies, and I want Slade to myself, plus I don’t want her to have to wait for us to cook our meal. She’s too pale for my liking. And I’m sure she’s lost weight since she’s been here.
Yeah, captivity will do that to a person.
“Were you happy, Slade?” Suddenly, I need to know. Am I—or I guess, we—keeping her from someone who had once made her happy? My chest constricts with a weight added to it.
But if Slade wanted to get back to her husband, then why didn’t she factor that into her argument about needing to leave here?
Because she left him? But then why still wear his ring?
Because she was running from him? But again, the same follow-up question persists.
Because he’s dead?
If there was ever a minuscule chance I wasn’t going to hell, I’m definitely going now because the thought of her husband being dead fills me with all kinds of wrong happiness.
She doesn’t answer my question but scans the cozy kitchen.
There are green- and white-checkered curtains, a butcher block countertop, and whitewashed cabinets.
Wooden spoons sit in a mason jar beside the stove, and a narrow container of herbs sits on the windowsill.
The warm, inviting space has a square table where us five Council members can fit around.
“I had no idea this little kitchen existed.”
“In all your years of sneaking around the clubhouse and getting into trouble, you never found it?” I tease but then explain. “It was sealed up for years; the Council claimed it for our own quiet gathering from the mayhem in the clubhouse.”
She walks over to the herb container and inhales, closing her eyes briefly, then straightens. She’s avoiding looking at me, and I’m not sure if it’s because of what happened upstairs or because she’s avoiding answering my question about her being happy.
“Where’s your husband, Slade?”
She remains silent as she presses her lips together.
“There’s no marriage certificate that we can find. Were you living common-law with someone?”
She cocks her head as she regards me before she finally speaks. “I was running from my mom’s drug dealer; you don’t think I don’t have enough street smarts not to go by my real name?”
I want to crack her mind open to steal all the secrets she’s keeping from me.
Instead, I bury my frustration and open the fridge to pull out the items I had bought earlier to make gnocchi and homemade pasta sauce.
Pulling out a cutting board, I wash my hands and the peppers, then get to work chopping those.
Slade does the same, cutting the onions.
“I think you have more than enough street smarts, Slade,” I say softly, keeping my head down while I mince the garlic.
“I think you took care of your mom when everyone abandoned you to do it. I think you were brave to fight back against her poor choices, which were fueled by addiction. I think you saving yourself, even if it meant leaving her to her own vices, took a huge set of balls. And I think you were making a fucking fantastic life for yourself until that predator stole you.”
Her knife has stopped chopping as I admit to knowing what she had told her brothers in the gym the morning after she had arrived here, but I don’t stop.
“And I think when you killed that motherfucker, it freed you, but you’re trapped in some kind of purgatory where the demons of hell eat away at your soul.” I finally lift my head and meet her beautiful, wide green eyes that glisten with a sheen of tears.
“And, my small but fierce warrior, I think you’re the most beautiful human being I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
She blinks, and a tear slips free to sit on her cheek.
She’s feeling and not spiraling.
Her eyes are filled with pain—that fucking haunted pain that carves a hole inside my chest—but she’s not spiraling. And, if I dare hope, there’s a light burning within those beautiful eyes.
“And finally, I know that for whatever reason, I ground you. I help you find a strength that no one else has been able to help you battle those demons; just as I know that I refuse to let you down, Slade Kowal.”
Another tear slips free, and I reach over and catch it with my thumb. She watches as I suck her tear off my thumb, then she shudders out a shaky exhale.
The rest of the meal prep is spent in silence, as is when we eat and clean up. When I walk her back to her room, I lean down slowly, giving her time to step away, but she stays still, staring up at me while I press a gentle kiss to her forehead. Then, I make myself walk away.
Because Slade Kowal, or whatever name she went by when she married, isn’t mine.