Chapter 23
Vienna
Hours later, I found myself back at the bar, silently staring into my empty pint glass.
The club was ridiculously quiet. The other charters were busy in the other pub—on Dante’s instructions—and they had taken all the life with them. The old ladies followed where the party was, and the kids were already in bed.
The silence was bordering on eerie. I sat in darkness, not bothering with the overhead lights, trying to remember the last time the clubhouse had ever been this quiet.
The last time I had been left with just me and my own thoughts.
I avoided it for a reason. But tonight… tonight it was unavoidable.
I flexed my fingers, the dried blood crumbling in the cracks, and dropping down onto the bar. I brushed them away with the back of my hand, noticing my split knuckles and filthy fingernails.
“Fuck,” I muttered to myself, clenching my fist, ignoring the sting of pain as my wounds reopened. As I shifted, I cringed at the dry, crackling sound my cut made. There was so much blood dried on me. My entire body felt stiff and raw. Dirty.
But I barely noticed it. I hardly noticed anything, really.
Because this wasn’t where I was supposed to be.
I wasn’t supposed to be drowning my sorrows in the bar. I wasn’t supposed to be covered in blood, having brutally ended yet another life. I wasn’t supposed to be doing any of this.
I was supposed to be with her.
I had spent a decade watching her every night, reassuring myself she was safe—and yet I’d either been deluded or lying to myself, because she was never safe, and I hadn’t fucking seen it.
I’d obsessed over her, stalked her, thought I was keeping tabs on her, and I’d failed her each and every night.
I’d watched her, even growing angry with her, placing blame on her shoulders for the distance between us and yet…
“Fuck this,” I muttered to the empty room and reached over the bar to pour myself another pint, knocking a few glasses to the floor as I did so.
“Idiot,” I muttered to myself.
“What the fuck is happening here?” Rachel snapped, racing into the bar.
“Watch your step,” I said, my lips barely moving. I paused just long enough to make sure she was okay, and then went back to my task.
Rachel gasped, side-stepping the glass, swallowing heavily at the small pile of destruction I’d caused. And then she raised her eyes to me, her head snapping back in shock.
“Oh, Vienna…” she said, her lips twisting with pity.
I just pulled the tap and let my glass fill up, bracing myself for my lecture.
It wasn’t a new occurrence. Rachel had raged at me roughly twice a week since she’d moved back here with Axel. So tonight should be no different.
She walked over to me, eying me warily, and then her hand closed over mine. “Here,” she said softly. “Let me.”
I watched her suspiciously as she tipped out the frothy mess I had been pouring and started fresh, filling my pint glass to the brim.
She silently placed it on the bar in front of me and then reached above, pulling down a bottle of whiskey. Without saying a word, she gently put a shot glass down and filled it up, and put the bottle back where it was.
And then she looked at me. Really looked at me, her eyes assessing everything, drinking in my appearance.
“Not tonight, Rachel,” I said, bringing the pint to my lips.
“Not tonight.” She paused then, biting her lower lip. “Please go steady, Vienna,” she whispered, standing up on her tiptoes and leaning over the bar, placing a gentle kiss to my cheek before turning around and leaving me with my thoughts once again.
I appreciated that.
“Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth,” I muttered, topping the shot glass in the direction she had left.
It wasn’t like Rachel to leave without giving her opinion, so I’d take the win where I could get it.
But that still didn’t help ease the restlessness inside me.
My body wasn’t used to simply doing nothing—even stood still in the trees surrounding Gabriella’s house, I’d still have something to distract myself with. Had she turned the light on? Was there only one shadow walking behind her curtains? Was she happy and safe? Did the guards keep their distance?
Here, I had nothing. Even knowing Gabriella was safe in my clubhouse, behind my walls… it wasn’t enough. Because Nico was still out there. He was still breathing, still inflicting pain.
Still polluting the earth with every bit of oxygen wasted on him.
I felt caged, trapped. My skin burned with awareness of having her so near, and also shame for all I had let her go through.
Every inch of me was raging for vengeance. I wanted Nico’s blood so bad I could practically taste it. Every time I tried to calm myself, to get some composure, I remembered Gabriella all over again and the rage built once more.
She hadn’t deserved this. Any of it.
I brought the pint glass to my lips, staring absently into the dark club when a shadow fell over the doorframe.
“Vienna?” Gabriella said softly. It was as though her presence had been summoned, my thoughts strong enough to call to her, our minds linked as they always had been.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’ve had better nights, princess,” I muttered, drinking some more of my pint.
She hesitated a moment, looking uneasy.
I know how she felt.
“What are you doing sitting in the dark?” she asked. Her hand reached out for the lightbulb.
“Don’t,” I snapped, rising from my seat. “Trust me, Gabriella,” I said, softer this time. “You don’t want to turn the light on.”
I heard her swallow heavily. “What happened tonight, Vienna?”
I laughed, even though there was nothing funny about this situation.
She knew what had happened. She knew what I was. There was no other outcome for Sam. She’d known that the second we’d been informed he’d been captured.
I brought the glass back to my lips, and as I did, I saw a flash of Sam being dragged around the compound, tied to the back of my bike.
I heard my brothers whooping and hollering as they drove near him, terrifying him as their tyres brushed against his body.
At one point Monster had even thrown his head back and howled like a wolf before jumping his bike over Sam’s body.
It hadn’t taken more than a few turns for the skin to be completely ripped from Sam’s torso.
My head swam as the sounds of the dogs barking filled my ears. They’d snapped and snarled at him, biting through his cut like it was butter.
It had all come to an end when Dante called us over, sending the dogs back to their pens, and then poured petrol over Sam. I’d been the one to light the match over his limp body. His final few minutes on this earth had been one of extreme pain and torture, and I didn’t regret a fucking thing.
“Vienna?”
“You know what happened. Sam was dealt with,” I said, throwing the rest of my pint back and swallowing loudly.
“Is he…?”
“Dead? Yes,” I nodded, though she couldn’t see me properly.
Gabriella sighed heavily. “Good. That’s good. Nico relied on him a lot. He’s lost one of his henchmen now.”
“Yep.”
I eyed her as she walked closer to me, both dreading and craving having her so near.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her small hand reaching out for me.
I pulled back before I could stop myself, and her head reared back in shock.
“Luke…?”
My heart wrenched at the agonised way she said my name. My real name. The name only she called me.
“Don’t touch me, Gabby.”
I couldn’t. I couldn’t have her hands on me. It’d fucking break me.
I didn’t deserve her kindness right now. I didn’t deserve her softness, her warmth. I deserved nothing from her.
I was a monster. Just like Nico.
I’d hurt her just as much as he had.
“I only wanted to comfort you, Luke. It wasn’t supposed to be a—”
“To be a what? Hmm?”
“I just meant—”
“I know what you meant, Gabriella. You think I don’t know your every fucking thought before you do?” I laughed, though it was hollow and empty.
“Luke—”
“You’re in here,” I said, jabbing at my temples. “I know what every fucking thing you say means. I know every tilt of your voice, every mannerism, every sigh, laugh, cry. I know fucking everything, and what they stand for. I know it fucking all, even when you’re not sure yourself.”
She swallowed again, and I continued, striding over to her and standing close, looking down at her wide eyes. “It doesn’t matter what your intention was. Your touch is your touch. Yours, Gabriella. And I can’t fucking handle it. Any of it. Not right now.”
How could I? How could I let her touch me and live with the guilt?
It had only been a few days ago that I’d had sex with her in this very clubhouse, all the while completely unaware that she was suffering. Completely blind to all of what she was going through.
I’d fucked her and let her leave. Not once had I seen bruises on her. Not once had I questioned why she was so timid. I’d assumed.
I’d made nothing but assumptions, and each and every one of them had been fucking wrong.
How could I let her touch me now, believing I was some sort of saviour for killing Sam, when I had been the one feeding her to the wolves?
I should have ripped her out of there as soon as Nico arrived. I shouldn’t have listened to her protests. I should have fucking done more!
Because at the end of the day, she’d stayed to save her mum. But where had that got her? Ten years later, her mum was dead anyway, and she was the one surviving the aftermath.
“Luke,” she breathed, ignoring me completely. She closed the last few inches, her head tipping back to look up at me, and her hands grasped at my forearms.
“Gabby,” I breathed, losing the fight instantly. My body lost all its tension, my shoulders relaxed, and all I wanted to do was sink closer to her.
The second her body was close to mine, the moment she was near enough that I could smell her coconut shampoo and to feel how warm her skin was, I’d lost.
There wasn’t a single shred of me that was strong enough to resist her.
I brought my head down, resting my forehead against hers, breathing her in.
“I can’t do this, Gabby,” I said quietly, my breath fanning her face.
“I know,” she said. I felt her nod against me.
Her hands stroked up and down my arms, and my breath caught in my throat.
“You need to walk away,” I warned her.
I opened my eyes to see her staring at me.
“You need to stop telling me what to do,” she responded.
My fists clenched as I took a deep intake of breath. “Don’t,” I warned.
“Don’t what?”
She somehow managed to step closer, her body pressed against mine, her back arching slightly so she could still look up at me.
“Don’t push me away, Luke. Not again.”
“Stop it,” I muttered, clenching my teeth.
My breath came heavily through my nose, and the tension immediately came back to my throat.
I clenched my fists at my side, fighting the urge to touch her. She kept her forehead pressed to mine and nudged my cheek with her nose.
“Talk to me,” she whispered.
I closed my eyes against the feel of her breath on my skin, a shiver running down my spine.
“Go to your room,” I said, my fingers clenched so hard they were turning numb.
“No.”
“Gabriella.”
“Luke.”
My breath stuttered and then became laboured, exhaling in sharp puffs. I could feel her breath against me, too. Just as frantic. Just as heavy.
We stayed locked like that for long moments, both staring at each other, both trapped in a lifetime of memories and feelings.
“You need to go,” I whispered, the words barely there, barely forming, barely audible, my voice catching at the end.
“And if I don’t want to?” she whispered back.
I closed my eyes again, a shudder running through me.
And then I brought my lips to her ear. “You need to leave,” I whispered.
“Because having you this near, this close…” I trailed my hand up her bare arm, loving the immediate response as she shuddered and goosebumps broke out. “Having you this close is killing me.”
I brushed my nose against her neck, inhaling deeper, running along the length of her smooth skin and then whispered, “I need you to walk away, Gabby, now. Whilst I still have some sense in my body.”
She was trembling in my arms, small gasps leaving her lips as my words tickled against her skin.
Fuck, but how I wanted her.
How I wanted to be able to take her right here, right now, to show her how sorry I was.
How I wanted to be able to place my lips against her own. To hold her even closer. To peel every layer of clothing off her body and to worship every last inch of her the way she deserved.
Her hands lowered to link her fingers with mine, and without thinking, I brought them up between our bodies, planting kisses along her clenched knuckles.
I sucked in a sharp, shaky breath.
That had been a mistake.
“Leave, Gabby. Leave.”
“I don’t want to.”
“I’m hanging on by a fucking thread. Leave!” I said, sounding harsher than I meant to.
“No. I want to be here.”
“And I’m not capable of being what you need right now,” I warned her. She looked at me with confusion.
“If I take you now, I can promise you I’m not going to be capable of being gentle.
If I take you now, I’ll end up fucking splitting you in two.
I need you to walk away, to give me some space.
Because the second we cross this line, we are never going back behind it.
The second you give yourself to me, you are my old lady—ceremony or no ceremony. ”
I kissed her hand again, and then before I could think better of it, I brought my lips to hers, my tongue running along her lower lip. “I need you to be absolutely certain before you make this decision, Gabriella, because I am not letting you go a second time.”
“I’m certain,” she breathed.
“No,” I laughed. A shaky, breathless laugh. “No, you’re not. You’re horny. You’re relieved Sam is gone. You think you need to repay me for keeping you safe.”
“I don’t,” she tried to protest. I just laughed.
“Yes. Yes, you do. And that’s why I need to respect you enough to walk away.”
“But you haven’t,” she said.
“I haven’t.”
But I should.
I needed to.
“Go to bed, princess,” I said, stepping back from her. As I did so, the clouds seemed to disperse from her eyes, and she seemed to come back to her senses. She was fleeing from the room a second later, and, fool that I was, I couldn’t help but watch her go.