Chapter 18
KILLA
Hearing Cass explain her past was the hardest thing I’ve ever endured.
I’ve never felt so utterly useless before now.
I wish I could take away every single one of her cruel memories.
She’s lived a lifetime of dark torture, and the only light in her life has been her boy, and Benjamin damned well knew that.
There’s not a doubt in my mind that he would have happily sold Noah off, but he knew he needed the little boy in order for her to do whatever the fuck he wanted to her.
The fucker needs tortured himself, slowly.
Prison is too good for that fucker, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to allow him to live his life without retribution.
I’ll use every resource I have to achieve it, and when his time comes, I’ll take the fucker to the edge of his life, then pull him back and make him relive his nightmares over and over again.
The first thing I’m going to do when I leave this room is make the arrangements. I’ve waited far too fucking long for vengeance, and now I want it tenfold.
Cass sobs against my chest, and I do my best to comfort her.
“It’s okay, baby, let it all out.”
She cries with heaving breaths, and we simply lie there, with me holding her, kissing the top of her head, and stroking over her bruised, bare skin.
Cass doesn’t want therapy, and while I understand, she sure as fuck needs it. It’s something I’m going to speak to Stella about. Maybe she will be more comfortable opening up to her. After all, she’s about to become family.
Eventually, her body goes lax, and when her breaths even out and become heavy, I slip from beneath her.
Staring down at her, I take a moment to revel in her beauty. The sheet has slipped from her, exposing her ass, and my traitorous cock stiffens.
I groan out loud and drag a hand over my head. “Jesus. I’m fucked up.”
How the hell can I have a hard-on when only a couple of hours ago Cass was reliving her hell.
“Where are you going?” She speaks through sleep as I tug on my clothes.
“Just going to speak to the guys.” I lean over her and kiss her head, stroking the brunette locks from her face. “Get some sleep. I won’t be long. You’re safe here, Cass. You and Noah are mine.”
“Yours,” she whispers as I turn my back and head toward the door. “Killa?”
I glance over my shoulder, and her eyes are closed, but her lips are moving.
“He’ll come for me.” She swallows thickly, then speaks so low I don’t think I’m meant to hear her.
“Remember what I told you. Remember my promise,” she whispers again, and her words send a chill through me, freezing every cell in my body.
Those very same words were once declared to her in the courtroom and have haunted me, and her, it seems. Only now do I understand the true context, and I’ll be fucking damned if he thinks it’ll become a reality.
“I’ll be waiting, Little Demon,” I promise.
There’s no way in hell I’m going to allow him to keep breathing; if I thought he was a monster before, that’s nothing compared to the way I feel about him now.
I pull open my door and nod toward the prospect Savage had the foresight to post outside. “You”—I point at the little runt—“anyone goes in there, I’ll feed your balls to Winnie.”
“Y-Yes, sir.”
The main room is buzzing with an energy similar to that before a club run.
My brothers are ready and waiting for me to tell them what it is I need from them.
I glance around the room, pleased there’s not a club whore in sight because in the center of the room, like the king of the castle, is Noah, a bright smile on his cute little face that looks just like his mama’s.
“K-Killa, I got a cut too!” He holds up a small cut, and pride expands in my chest. It reads, Property of Killa on the back.
Stella stands from restocking bottles behind the bar. “Figured they were a permanent fixture a while ago. Cassidy’s is in Savage’s office waiting.” She smiles, and I lift my chin, and then she holds out a glass for me, but I shake my head.
“Gonna need the bottle.”
Her face falls, and she knows it’s bad by the grim expression on my face.
“I look like you now, Killa.” Noah beams up at me and slips his little arms into the cut. Something about seeing this little boy with such admiration in his eyes while fighting such terrible demons of his own has me lifting him into my arms and holding him tighter than ever before.
“You’re gonna be the best Unholy Savage, Noah.”
“Fuck yeah!” he declares into the room with a pump of his little fist in the air. The room erupts into laughter while I grimace.
I move my mouth to his ear. “Don’t let your mama hear you say that word.”
He grins from ear to ear, and I find myself mirroring his infectious smile. “I won’t. I promise.”
“Good boy.” I ruffle his hair and breathe in his familiar scent; the same peachy smell his mama has me hooked on.
How the hell someone can terrorize a little boy is beyond me.
His little hand plays with the hair at my nape much like his mama does, and I revel in his acceptance of me.
The thought of anyone hurting my boy fills me with a combination of dread and fury.
He must have been so distraught, pulled from Cass and put in the dark, kept God knows where.
How long did he leave him there? Did he have food?
Was he cold? How can you not look at him and love him and want to protect him?
A heavy ball of emotion lodges in my throat, so before I become a complete pussy, I place him back on the floor and avert my glassy eyes, knowing he’s admiring me with that look of awe in his eyes.
“Got some business to take care of, then I’m gonna sort you a place to sleep. ”
“Okay.” I hear the approval in his voice. “But we’re sleeping here, right?”
“Yeah, buddy, you’re sleeping here.” And never returning to the apartment because here is your home, where you both belong, from now until forever.
“Come take a seat up here, Noah. We can chat while Killa’s busy,” Stella says with a genuine smile, and her eyes land back on me.
Noah climbs up onto the bar stool, and seeing him there with my cut on his back sends a dull ache to my chest, and I know then and there I’d do anything for him.
He’s mine. Just like every one of my brothers in this room, he’s part of the club now.
He’s one of us and always will be. But more than that, he’s my son, blood be damned.
“Church!” I call, and a succession of chairs scraping across the wooden floor fills my ears as I head in that direction.