Chapter 1
KILLA
PRESENT DAY
The brightness in my bedroom causes me to wince as I roll over, and a bottle of Jack hits the floor. “Fuck.”
It was a rough day yesterday. Not one I want to repeat. At least for another year, anyway.
Is this how Warrior feels each and every time he realizes nothing has changed when he wakes up after his alcohol-fueled binge?
My head pounds, it’s cloudy as fuck, and I struggle to get comfortable. These scratchy pillowcases have got to go. I prefer Cass’s.
Cass.
I dart up and instantly regret it. The room spins, and my focus becomes blurry. The fuck? Why the hell am I here and not at her place?
Sluggishly, I throw my legs over the side of the bed and cling to my head in a bid to stop the room from spinning.
The moment I feel confident opening my eyes, they dart to the clock on the dresser.
It’s nine-thirty in the morning; what the hell?
I’ve been out of it for an entire day. As my brain comes back on, small snippets of the day creep back to me.
I went to Cass’s demanding answers. I fucked her rough, then fired questions at her, and we argued. Fuck, this is bad.
When a flash of Cass cuffed to the radiator, with tears streaming down her face, hits me, I feel like a Mack truck plowed straight into me, knocking the wind out of my lungs. She was begging me, pleading with me, and I ignored her. I locked her in her room and left her there.
Oh shit. I’ve left them for over twenty-four hours in that state.
I push to my feet and stumble, but manage to stand upright. “Fucking, Jesus.” What the hell have I done? Vomit swirls in the pit of my stomach with each movement.
I pull open my bedroom door and smack straight into Venom’s chest.
“You good?” he asks, scanning me.
“No!” I bite back, and even my own words cause my head to pound.
“Put you in your room before you ended up with a club whore on your cock.” He grimaces. Winnie saunters toward him and brushes up against his leg like a damn house cat. “Put a prospect on the door.” He nods down at the prospect sitting on the floor.
“’Preicate it.”
“You want one of ’em to take you over to hers in a cage?” he asks, referring to one of our cars.
“No. I can ride.” Be damn quicker than a cage.
I push past him and ignore the shouts of concerns from my brothers and the whiny voices of the club whores beckoning me back inside. There’s no way in hell I want to go there; hell, I don’t want to touch one ever again.
All I long for is her.
Thank fuck Venom had the foresight to handle me. Shame he didn’t think to wake me sooner.
I only hope the damage I’ve caused can be repaired.
My heart thunders when I turn the key Hunter had cut for me and slip inside the small apartment that has quickly become my safe haven.
Guilt churns in my stomach at the thought of what condition they’re in, and when my eyes fall on Noah sitting on a kitchen chair outside his mama’s bedroom, bile builds deep inside me, threatening to erupt at any second.
What was I thinking?
I wasn’t.
I let my hatred cloud my judgment.
How the hell could I do this to them?
“Killa!” he exclaims, throwing his arms in the air, and a grin stretches over his adorable face, matching his sweet tone. I fight the need to reject his happiness, knowing damn well he shouldn’t be pleased to see me. Not one bit. I don’t deserve his love.
Like the bastard I am, I push aside my actions and mask the way I feel with a practiced ease that now seems nothing short of cowardly.
He jumps into my arms as I approach, and I catch him. “Mama has been crying; she scared, Killa. Sh-she’s locked in her room, and she scared.” He points toward her room.
I swallow back the gut-wrenching clog gathered in my chest.
“I’ll sort her, little man.” He clings to me like a lifeline, and I guess, in this scenario, I am.
Then I vow I’ll never leave them so vulnerable again.
I’ll never treat them this way ever again.
Fuck my answers. Fuck them all; they’re all that matters.
My nose brushes his neck, and I inhale the smell of Cass on him, and it makes me wish I could take back everything I ever did to hurt her.
Everything.
There’s a knock on the door, and I cough, knowing it will be Stella after I dropped her a message to come over right away.
I pull open the door, and Stella’s panicked face has me turning away, unable to deal with what’s bound to be a tirade of questions.
“Could you take him until I message you?” I gesture toward Noah and reluctantly look into her eyes.
Her gaze ping-pongs over my face before landing on Noah and doing the same to him. Is she checking him for injuries? What the fuck? Her shoulders relax, taking my breath with her.
Noah plays with the hair at the nape of my neck, and his touch is the only thing keeping me sane right now.
After what feels like minutes, she finally breaks the silence between us, and her face softens. “Is everything okay?”
I push past the lump in my throat and avoid her eyes. She can tell I am far from fine. “I just have some shit to deal with here.”
Her shoulders slump. “What have you—”
I give her a venomous glare, and she throws her hands up. “Fine. Noah, how does a burger and fries sound?”
“Burger, please, Doctor Carter,” he says when I drop him to his feet.
She giggles. “You can call me Stella when we’re not in school, sweetie.”
His brow furrows, making him look cute as hell.
I clear my throat. “Put your sneakers on, little man.” I’m conscious of how robotic my voice sounds, and I know Stella can hear the urgency in my tone.
I gesture toward his tiny sneakers lined up at the door beside Cassidy’s, and the sight of them has my soul twisting with self-loathing.
She’s a good mom and doesn’t deserve this. I don’t deserve her; there’s not a doubt in my mind.
Stella gives me one more critical look of concern before she holds out her hand for Noah, and the kid practically skips to her, unaware of the turmoil raging inside me. As it should be for a kid.
When the door clicks shut, I take a deep breath and stride toward Cass’s room. I dig the key from my pocket, slip it into the lock, turn it, and push the door open.
I expect a barrage of expletives to leave her, a fight at the injustice; what I didn’t expect was this.
A broken, naked girl curled into a ball and staring into space, and her arm appears almost disfigured in the way it’s twisted by the handcuff holding it up in the air.
And fuck, does the sight of her hurt so much more than her wrath.
I did this.
I broke her down to the shell she is.
“C- Cass?” I approach her, but she lays motionless, spent. “I’m sorry, baby,” I whisper, caressing her frozen skin. “So fuckin’ sorry.” She’s pale, far too pale, and so fucking cold it makes my heart ache. “Jesus, what have I done, baby?”
A tear slips down my face, and I let it. This is the first time in my life I don’t care about how weak I look or what the MC would think; all I care about is the girl I destroyed and left broken in a heap on a cold floor.
“Cass …” I stroke her cheek, and she doesn’t so much as blink.
She’s detached from the world right now, and I hate it.
If I weren’t aware of her chest moving, I’d have thought she was dead, and the idea of that has me falling to my knees before her.
“Cass, baby. Please. I’m sorry.” I stroke her hair from her eyes.
The life in them is no longer there, and I despise it. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”
What the hell was I thinking?
I bend down and kiss her cold cheek. Then, as if lightning strikes me, I bolt upright and move to unlock the handcuff.
My fingers fumble to free her, and I wince when I see the nasty cuts on her wrist. “Jesus, Cass.” Her arm drops to her side with a heavy thud.
Gently, I scoop the damp hair from her face and whisper in her ear. “Baby, can you hear me?”
I scan her room and contemplate covering her with a sheet, but after seeing the puddle she’s lying in, I decide otherwise.
Instead, I slip my phone and wallet from my jeans pocket and place them on the bed, then shrug out of my cut, fold it, and leave it on the chair.
Scooping her into my arms, I hold her against my chest like a prized possession as I kick open the bathroom door and carry her inside.
I lean over the shower and nudge the tap with my shoulder.
The warm spray catches my face, and as I step inside, she startles, her bright-green eyes coming to life.
She sucks in a sharp breath, and color starts coming back to her cheeks.
“K-Killa?” Her bottom lip quivers, and my stone heart cracks.
“I-I’m sorry,” I cry and place my forehead against hers.
Her hand moves to my chest, and the thought of her pushing me away is too much to bear. “Please, don’t.” When she opens her mouth to speak, I turn my head away, unable to take whatever she’s going to say to me.
“Shhh, Cass. Don’t speak.” I place a tender kiss on her forehead, then hold her firmly against me and turn us into the spray. “Please, don’t speak.” I can’t bear to hear her tell me she hates me.
Because she has to.
I know I do, and it’s so much worse than hating her.
Realizing I can’t clean her while she’s in my arms but not able to risk her warmth leaving me, I lower myself to the shower floor.
With Cass resting in my lap, I grab the peachy-scented shower gel I’ve grown to love and squeeze some on the washcloth.
Bringing it to a lather, I take my time working over her precious skin.
Every inch of her is pure beauty, and a day ago, I was willing to destroy it, destroy us.
With each gentle glide of the cloth, I relish the fact that she’s allowing me to touch her at all.
I can feel her eyes on me, but I don’t have the balls to stare my greatest fear head-on, because losing her simply isn’t an option, and I don’t know how I’m going to stop that from happening.
The water shoots over us, and I hope it washes away her bitter memories of my betrayal and, worse, the hatred I no longer want to feel.
I’m aware I’ll have to atone for my sins.
We all do at some point.