Chapter 56
Rachel
Everything passed in a blur once I made that phone call to Dante. Within minutes, or at least that’s what it felt like, dozens of bikers came roaring round the corner, ready to protect their president’s old lady.
Too little, too late, boys. I protected myself.
Again.
We were immediately rushed to the hospital.
Pivot had brought the van with him, and Shark was laid down in the back of it as we sped through the busy streets of Leeds.
I was numb to it all. I watched Hacksaw apply pressure on Shark’s wounds.
I listened as Dante and Vienna yelled instructions down the radio.
I saw the blood still coating my hands, the sticky goo from his eyeballs under my fingernails, my ripped clothing, replaying the entire scene in my mind, and still I was numb to it.
I didn’t feel the pain in my head. I didn’t feel the blood still pouring from my lips. Dante had quickly inspected me and said my head was not split open, so there was that, at least. But I’d have a nasty headache in the morning.
Hacksaw handed me an ice pack, and I applied it to my mouth, still not fully registering what the fuck had just happened. I was given a dress to wear, and I managed not to roll my eyes as I slipped it over my clothes. At least I was covered. I hadn’t even realised the man had ripped my underwear.
All I could do was count my blessings that the kids were not with me, that they hadn’t had to see this side of their mother. This wasn’t a side I wanted them to know.
The looks Dante had thrown me let me know he would be pressing me for more information later, and for once, I didn’t dread it.
I’d welcome the interrogation if it meant we would capture those responsible.
I recognised the cut as belonging to the Rough Riders, and I was ready for war, unless they could prove these two were acting on their own and not on club orders.
That happened sometimes. There was a truce, but the two clubs were still rivals.
There were weekly accounts of fights and brawls taking place.
For their sake, they had to hope that this was not a presidential order.
I realised then that my thought process had changed. No longer did I meet situations like this and want to run from the club. Instead, I wanted to be by Dante’s side, as we slaughtered the men responsible for this.
And I would. With or without the club’s help. I would make them pay for what they did to Shark. I would find who it was and make them regret what they planned to do to me. There was no man on this earth that would stop me from getting my vengeance.
As soon as we arrived at the hospital, Shark was loaded onto a stretcher and whisked away.
I brushed off the doctors' efforts to help me. I suffered surface wounds at best. I could deal with those myself. I wanted no more hands on me. I’d more than had enough of people touching me without my consent.
They told Dante I was suffering from shock, stress, and possibly PTSD.
This came after Dante had a chat with them, so lord knew what he had told them about my past. But I accepted their pills, knowing full well I had no intention of taking them.
I was not depressed. I’d get my serotonin boost in the form of bathing in the blood of those stupid enough to attack me whilst my guard was down. Nothing else would suffice.
Shark, on the other hand, was not so lucky. He was wheeled straight to the intensive care unit, and only immediate family were allowed in.
As soon as the doctors gave me the all clear, I went home, swapping places with Jenna so she could be by Shark’s side, and I would deal with the children.
The doctors tried to convince me to stay.
Dante tried to convince me to stay. But there was nothing else I could do.
Dante wouldn’t have time to deal with me—and I didn’t expect him to.
He was organising a clean-up crew for the mess I had made in that alleyway.
He was trying to fend off the police, reporters, and anyone else stupid enough to try to get his attention right now.
The best thing for me to do was go home, deal with the children, take some paracetamol, and try to write everything down whilst it was fresh in my mind.
Dante would be back to question me, and I wanted him to know everything as I remembered it.
So, as soon as I put all the kids to bed, I sat on the sofa, pen and paper in hand, and scribbled down what had happened. I left out no detail, even the attempted rape. What would be the point? Dante and the club needed to know it all.
After a while, my head began to throb, and I sat back, my vision blurring. I looked at seashells on the coffee table and closed my eyes.
God.
Only yesterday I had been with him and the kids, having an amazing day. And in the blink of an eye, everything had changed.
Fuck’s sake!
I needed a fucking drink. I couldn’t sit here in silence any longer, thinking about the utter shambles of my life.
I stormed through to the bar and grabbed a glass off the shelf, pouring myself a double shot of whiskey, throwing it back instantly. I cringed slightly at the burn and poured another, throwing it back just as quickly.
I was about to start on my third when the door crashed open, and the grim faces of Vienna and Dante appeared.
“Hello to you, too,” I muttered when neither of them spoke to me.
“Don’t start,” Vienna snapped at me, grabbing a bottle of beer.
“Didn’t even say a fucking word. But isn’t that his line?” I said, nodding my head in Dante’s direction.
“Don’t start,” he repeated, his tone equally as feral as Vienna’s had been.
I threw back my shot before nodding at them and slamming the glass on the bar. “How is Shark?” I asked, and they both shot me weary looks.
“Brilliant. Thanks for answering me. I’ve been writing it all down for you, by the way,” I said, tossing the notebook in their direction. “So before you go thinking up your own little narrative, there’s an exact play-by-play of what went down.”
“We know what fucking went down, Rachel,” Dante all but snarled at me.
“I knew this would end up being my fault somehow. Go on, say what you’ve got to say.”
“Rachel, for once in your fucking life, learn to let things lie, yeah? It’s not the time, and neither of us are in the mood,” Vienna said.
“ Are you not?” I breathed, my voice laced with sarcasm.
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise it was you two who were stabbed today.
I’m so inconsiderate. And I suppose it was you two who were almost raped?
I haven’t even asked how you are! I mean, that’s what you do when that happens to someone, isn’t it? You ask how they’re doing?”
Dante closed his eyes, cricking his neck from side to side before tilting his head back, closing his eyes and exhaling a deep breath.
“Whatcha doing there, big guy?” I couldn’t refrain myself from mocking him. “Mentally counting to ten? N’aww look at you, listening to good old doctor Ashleigh. I bet she even told you to visualise your anger and slowly let it go. Imagine it’s a pen.”
“Jesus Christ,” Vienna muttered, drinking more of his beer. “Just let it go, woman. It’s been a rough day.”
“It’s fine,” Dante said. “It’s just Rachel being Rachel. Pay her no attention and she’ll soon grow bored.”
“You realise I didn’t start this, right? God, you’re such a hypocrite. You complain that I don’t want you or that I don’t need you. I call you in my time of need, and this is your reaction. You’re acting like this is somehow my fault!”
“And how did I do that, Rachel?” Dante finally snapped back. “I walked in here and got a fucking beer. I didn’t say a word.”
“Exactly. You walked in here with all the enthusiasm of someone heading for the execution block and gave me the fucking silent treatment!”
“Because, believe it or not, I’m pissed off and trying my goddamn hardest to show you a bit of respect and not direct my anger at those who don’t deserve it!”
“First time for everything,” I muttered, pushing away from the bar.
I went to walk out, but before I even got a step towards the front door, Dante had hopped over the bar and snatched my arm, spinning me around to face him.
“What the fuck is your problem?” He snapped at me.
“My problem,” I hissed, ripping my arm out of his grasp. “Is your lack of consideration. Remember how I once told you that my mother would always call me ‘selfish Rachel’? Well, when I’m here, I feel like it’s ‘just Rachel’.”
“I don’t even know what that means!”
“Let me give you some examples. Oh, she was almost raped today? It doesn’t matter, it’s just Rachel.
She’s feeling lonely? She’ll get over it.
It’s just Rachel. Kitty is always mean to her?
It’s just Rachel. Hit her with a contract?
She’ll be okay. It’s just Rachel. She’s been sat at home all evening with a head injury, scared to death that her friend might die?
It’s okay, it’s just Rachel. We can walk back in here and be cruel to her, and snap at her, and then get mad when she reacts to it.
It’s just fucking Rachel. Everything is simply dismissed because I’m just Rachel.
I can handle it. It doesn’t matter that I have feelings.
It doesn’t matter that I needed you today.
It doesn’t matter what I feel. I’m expected to be strong.
I’m expected to be what everyone else needs, with no thought or feeling towards what I need, because I’m just Rachel! ”
Dante looked stunned for a second. And then he cleared his voice and looked away from me.
“I’m sorry if you felt that way. I’ll admit, sometimes I forget. You act so strong and as though you don’t need anyone, that it’s not always easy to tell when you do . Like storming out of the hospital today instead of accepting treatment.”
“I did that to allow you some breathing space! I didn’t want you fucking worried about me when you had other things to be dealing with!”
“And how was I supposed to know that, Rachel?” He asked, seeming utterly exasperated. “I can't give you what you need if you don’t tell me. But I’m trying!”
“Are you? Because I shouldn’t have had to tell you that I needed a bit of sympathy today. I shouldn’t have to ask for sympathy. Most normal people with control over their fucking emotions would know that when a woman is almost raped, she would need her partner to be a bit gentle with her!”
“I—”
“Do you even care?” I snapped, and his head reeled back with shock.
“Of course I fucking care!”
“Do you? Do you care about me, or do you care about the disrespect their actions show towards you?”
“Watch it,” he warned, his tone low and deadly.
“Why? Because you weren’t bothered about rape when you were the one doing it—” I had barely finished my words when Dante raised a hand and slapped me around the face.
In a split second, a million thoughts raced through my mind. A dozen emotions raced forward, each battling to be the winner. But it was anger that was victorious, and before I had even recovered from the shock, I was retaliating.
I went with the movement of my body. The slap had forced my head to the side, and I rolled with it, flying to the left and picking up one of the bar stools. I heaved it into the air and launched it at Dante with all the strength I could muster, and then I charged.
He barely dodged my blows as I rained punch after punch to his body. One solid one to his ribs, another to his chest. He grabbed my arms and tried to calm me down, but I was too far gone to be placated.
“Fucking touch me again, Dante, and I swear to god I’ll see you buried in the ground next to your useless fucking dad and brother!” I swore at him, kicking his shins.
All I could do was remember the times he had hit me in the past. Starting from the very first day we had met, all the way up to now, he had laid his hands on me one too many fucking times!
I clawed at the arms that tried to pin me down and lashed out, cracking my fist against his jaw, earning myself a punch to the face in response. My head flew to the side once more as pain exploded along my jaw and my mouth filled with blood.
I spat the blood in his direction before wiping it with the back of my hand.
And then I was retaliating again. I knew my blows were weak and ineffective.
Dante sparred with the rest of the bikers on a weekly basis.
He took harder punches from them than anything I could hope to deliver, but that didn’t mean I was going to give up.
I continued kicking, hitting, scratching, pushing…
Fuck, I even clawed at whatever skin my fingernails could sink into.
I was through being a punching bag. Both verbally and physically. I was so fucking sick and tired of being treated with such little respect.
So I fought with everything I had, taking great satisfaction in seeing the bloody welts down his arms from my nails, or the darkening of skin around his eyes as a bruise formed from my punches.
It was only when I grabbed a bottle off the bar and threw it at him that I knew I had taken it too far.
“That’s fucking enough!” Vienna yelled, attempting to step between us.
I picked up one of the pint glasses and lobbed it at him, taking another dive towards Dante.
Vienna caught me by my shoulders and shoved me backwards, making me stumble and trip over my own feet, but I didn’t care.
I recovered instantly, my rage awarding me more grace than I would have had otherwise.
I flew forwards again and this time Vienna seized me by my waist, picking me up and hurling me over his shoulder in one smooth move.
“Put me fucking down!” I screamed at him, my anger making me burn from the inside out.
The cool air hit my skin before I had even realised that Vienna had carried me towards the door.
I placed my hands on the small of his back and pushed myself up until I was looking at Dante’s snarling face as he spat words at me.
Not that I heard them. I was too far gone.
The only noise I could hear was the blood roaring through my veins, demanding I make him pay.
I screamed words in his direction and spat blood at him, hating him with every fibre of my being.
Vienna set me on my feet and turned me away from Dante, shoving me out of the door and slamming it behind us.
I made a move to go back inside, and he seized my arm and dragged me down the street and away from the beast he had caged inside the bar.