Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Meghan
The music thrums through my body, and I close my eyes, letting myself get lost in the rhythm.
For the first time in weeks, I feel.
.. normal.
Like maybe I can actually enjoy myself without constantly looking over my shoulder.
I guess all it takes is a good ole clubhouse Memorial Day party dance with my best friend.
"Mind if I cut in?"
My eyes snap open at the sound of Tor's deep voice.
He's standing there, looking devastatingly handsome in a tight black t-shirt that shows off his muscular arms.
His bottle-green eyes are fixed on me, intense and warm.
"I... uh..." I stammer, caught off guard by the way my heart races at his proximity.
Starla grins, already backing away.
"He's all yours, honey. I need a drink anyway."
Before I can protest, Tor's strong arms are around me, pulling me close.
His scent envelops me—leather, sandalwood, and something uniquely him.
My body responds instantly, melting against his solid frame.
"You look beautiful tonight," he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear.
I shiver, torn between desire and the instinct to push him away. "Tor, I..."
"Shh," he says softly. "Just dance with me, Meghan. No pressure, no expectations. Just this moment."
I nod, unable to form words.
As we sway together, I can't help but think this is what young love is supposed to feel like.
The butterflies, the breathless anticipation, the way the rest of the world seems to fade away until it's just the two of us.
"Is this okay?" Tor asks, his hands sliding lower on my back.
I bite my lip, nodding. "Yeah," I breathe. "It's... nice."
And it is. For once, I'm not thinking about the past or worrying about the future. I'm just here, in Tor's arms, feeling like the heroine in some romance movie.
It's cheesy and probably naive, but at this moment, I don't care.
I look up at Tor, meeting his intense gaze.
The lust I see there makes my breath catch, but there's something else too.
Something deeper, more tender.
It scares me, but it also makes me feel... safe.
"Meghan," he starts, his voice husky.
But before he can finish, the song changes to something faster, breaking the spell.
I step back, suddenly aware of how close we were.
"I... I need some air," I stammer, already turning away.
As I hurry toward the exit, I can feel Tor's eyes on me.
Part of me wants to turn back, to lose myself in his arms again.
But the larger part, the part that's still healing, still scared, keeps me moving forward.
I know we’ve said we’re falling for each other, but it was in the heat of the moment.
God, I push the doors open and revel in the cool night air, trying to calm my racing heart.
What am I doing?
What the fuck do I want?
Do I want to stay or do I want to go?
I don’t have a fucking clue.
I’m so confused.
Hell, let’s face it, I’m more confused than I’ve been in my fucking life.
I'm leaning against the rough wooden exterior of the clubhouse, eyes closed, when I hear footsteps approaching.
"Meghan?" Charm's voice cuts through the muffled bass from inside. "You okay?"
I open my eyes to see her concerned face. "Yeah, just needed a breather."
She nods, understanding in her eyes. "Listen, I hate to ask, but could you do me a favor? Gwen's not feeling great, and I was wondering if you could run to CVS for some Dramamine or ginger lozenges?"
I hesitate, glancing back at the clubhouse.
Part of me wants to go back inside, to apologize to Tor.
But another part, the part that's still raw and unsure, latches onto this excuse.
"Sure," I say, perhaps a bit too quickly. "I only had one beer tonight, so I'm good to drive."
"You're a lifesaver," Charm says, relief evident in her voice. "I'd go myself, but..." She trails off, swaying slightly.
"No worries," I assure her.
"I could use the fresh air anyway."
As I fish my keys out of my pocket, I hear the clubhouse door open again.
Tor's deep voice carries across the parking lot. "Everything all right? I can drive you if you need."
I turn to see him, concern etched on his face.
For a moment, I'm tempted to say yes, to spend more time with him.
But the memory of our dance, of the intensity in his eyes, makes me pause.
"It's okay," I say, forcing a smile. "I just have to go grab some stuff for Gwen. I’ll be back in a flash."
As I slide into my Nissan Altima, I catch a glimpse of Tor in the rearview mirror.
He's watching me, a mix of worry and something else—disappointment?—on his face.
I push the thought away as I start the engine.
The drive to CVS is uneventful, just me and my swirling thoughts.
By the time I park, I've managed to convince myself that this with Tor can’t possibly work out.
There’s a high possibility I’m not going to end up staying here.
Inside the pharmacy, I quickly locate the items Charm requested.
As I approach the register, I feel a sense of relief.
I'll be back at the clubhouse soon, surrounded by people.
Safe.
I place the items on the counter, digging in my purse for my wallet.
That's when I hear it—a deep, dark voice that turns my blood to ice. "Meggie Poo?"
My body goes rigid, my mind screaming in denial.
It can't be.
Not here.
Not now.
I turn slowly, my heart pounding in my chest.
There he stands, all six-foot-two of him, his piercing blue eyes boring into me.
My father.
The fearsome son of a bitch known as the Patriot.
"What are you doing here?" I spit out, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to keep it steady.
He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Lily mentioned you were in town. Thought we were bound to run into each other. I gotta say, it’s great to see my little girl."
My stomach churns.
Of course, Lily told him.
I should've known better than to trust her.
"You shouldn't have come," I say, my eyes darting around the store, looking for an escape route.
"Now, now," he chides, taking a step closer. "Is that any way to greet your father?"
I can smell the familiar scent of his cologne, mixed with leather and cigarettes.
It brings back a flood of memories I've spent years trying to forget.
"Ma'am?" The cashier's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. "That'll be fourteen seventy-two."
I fumble with my wallet, acutely aware of my father's presence behind me.
As I hand over my card, I turn to face him again.
"It's ironic," I say, my voice low and bitter, "because I hoped I'd never see you again."
The cashier hands me the bag and my card.
I grab them, ready to bolt, but my father's hand shoots out, gripping my arm tightly.
"Don't be so disrespectful, Meghan," he growls, his fingers digging into my skin.
Anger flares within me, overriding my fear.
I wrench my arm away from his grasp, my eyes blazing. "Don't you ever fucking touch me again," I hiss. "You should take your own advice about respect."
As I storm towards the exit, my mind races.
I burst through the pharmacy doors, my heart pounding in my chest.
The cool night air hits my face, but I can barely feel it.
My only thought is to get to my car and get the hell out of here.
As I reach for the door handle, a fist slams into the window beside me with a sickening thud.
I let out a startled yelp, stumbling backward.
"We're not done talking, Meggie," my father's voice growls behind me.
I whirl around, my back pressed against the cool metal of my car. "What more could you possibly have to say?" I spit out, my hands shaking.
He takes a step closer, his massive frame looming over me. "I never did anything bad to you, Meghan. Everything I did was for our family."
Something inside me snaps.
A lifetime of pain and anger comes rushing to the surface, and I can't hold it back anymore.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" I scream, not caring who might hear. "You traded my body like it was a goddamn baseball card! To your business associates, no less!"
His face contorts with anger, but I'm beyond caring.
The words pour out of me like venom.
"Do you have any idea how disgusting it was? To be a child—a fucking teenager—and be used like that?" My voice breaks, but I force myself to continue. "You were supposed to protect me, not... not pimp me out for your own gain!"
As I say the words out loud, the full weight of what he did to me hits me all over again.
I feel sick to my stomach, but I can't stop now.
I need him to understand, to feel even a fraction of the pain he caused me.
"I was just a kid," I whisper, tears streaming down my face. "Your kid. How could you do that to me?"
My father shakes his head, his eyes cold and unapologetic. "You don't understand, Meggie. Certain things needed to be done so our family could get the power we have now. Sacrifices had to be made."
His words hit me like a physical blow.
Sacrifices?
Is that what he calls destroying my childhood, my innocence?
My hands ball into fists at my sides, rage coursing through my veins.
"You mean your family!" I scream in his face, no longer caring about the scene we're making in the parking lot. "I am no longer part of your fucking family!"
Something in his eyes changes, a dangerous glint appearing. "You ungrateful little bitch," he snarls.
Before I can react, his hand shoots out, grabbing my throat.
I gasp, clawing at his fingers as he slams me against my car.
The impact knocks the wind out of me, and I struggle to breathe.
"You think you can just walk away?" he growls, his face inches from mine. "Everything you are is because of me."
I try to speak, but his grip tightens.
Black spots dance in my vision as panic sets in.
This isn't happening.
Not again.
I can't let him control me anymore.
With all the strength I can muster, I bring my knee up hard between his legs.
He grunts in pain, loosening his grip just enough for me to break free.
I gasp for air, stumbling away from him.
"You're wrong," I rasp, my throat burning. "I am who I am in spite of you, not because of you."
His face contorts with fury, and he lunges at me.
I try to dodge, but I'm not fast enough.
His fist connects with my jaw, sending me sprawling onto the asphalt.
Pain explodes through my head as it bounces off the ground.
I taste blood in my mouth as I struggle to get up.
But he's on me in an instant, raining down blows.
I curl into a ball, trying to protect myself, but it's useless.
Each impact sends waves of agony through my body.
As consciousness starts to slip away, a single thought echoes in my mind: I can't die here.
Not like this.
Not by his hand.
But the darkness is encroaching, and I feel myself fading.
The last thing I see is his face, twisted with rage, as everything goes black.