Chapter 47
Chapter forty-seven
Yosh
Ican’t remember exactly when my fascination with this family began. Maybe it had been there from the start, when I first met Tom and Calvin at the intake. Tom had been tense, while Calvin, who’s usually the most careless person I know, visibly shrank the moment Jay’s name came up.
That wasn’t normal.
It had caught my attention, but at the time I couldn’t quite place why.
My fascination turned to fury once Tom started opening up.
What he described as Jay’s protectiveness, I recognized for what it really was: control, and eventually abuse.
Jay was obsessed with shielding the family from threats outside, yet Tom was left defenseless against the predator inside their own walls.
When it had mattered most, Jay chose Emily’s side.
He abandoned Tom. Worse, he’d turned violent against him.
And when Chris died, it only got worse. Tom was left to mourn alone.
They were all there, but he had no one to lean on in his grief.
Meanwhile, Jay had only tightened his grip, exploiting Tom’s creativity in music, art, even ideas like SACS.
It isn’t surprising that Tom had escaped into Amsterdam’s party scene, where he could numb himself and outrun reality, even if it was only for a night.
The more I fell for him, the stronger my need became to give him something he’d never truly had: a place where he could be safe. With every dark detail he’d entrusted to me, that urge only grew stronger.
And yet, if I’m honest, the foundation of their ideology presses on something bruised inside me. The way they talk about loyalty, about standing together. It’s everything I ached for while fighting my way through this world alone. I always wanted a pack.
The proof of that? The Serpents MC.
For a blue Monday, I got myself tangled up with them. It was the closest I ever came to something that looked like family, until it all went south.
Not a story I want to be reminded of right now, but if I’m reflecting, I might as well be honest.
But with the McKennas it’s different. They don’t let outsiders in, so no one knows what it’s really like.
Today I will, and I’ll get to see if the picture in my head matches reality.
Fact is, I’ve got no clue what I’m walking into. What I do know is this: after this weekend, they won’t ever forget my name.
I look up at the gray sky; it tells me more snow is coming. We drive along a country road between rows of bare trees, endless heathland on both sides.
I picture the heather glowing purple in the Indian summer, the two of us running side by side. Him laughing, daring me to catch him, and me getting closer, tackling him into a soft bed of flowers.
We’d have sex there, where the grass is two asses tall, with nothing around us but that endless sea of purple.
Could it be like that? I’m not sure, because right now it looks like a dead, frozen wasteland.
After a 15-minute drive through the middle of nowhere, we reach a massive Gothic gate with the word Heatherfell welded on in bronze letters. I can’t deny it looks like a warning sign saying: this is your last chance to turn around.
Tom’s knuckles are white on the wheel. The car slows until the only sound left is the engine running.
“Here it is,” he says.
The iron arches are dusted with snow. A crow landing on a branch adds another cliché. It didn’t need that to make the point clear.
I glance at Tom, his face gray in the pale light.
“You okay? There’s nothing wrong if you don’t feel like doing this. I’m sure Joan can help set up a meeting with Effy in the city.”
“No. Some meetings can’t happen outside these gates.”
Tom steps out of the car and heads for the gate, then freezes in front of the hood. He turns abruptly and rushes for the nearest tree. It takes me a second to register what’s happening.
I jump out of the car, shoes sinking ankle-deep into the snow. Shoulders hunched, he’s losing his breakfast against the bark.
My hand finds his back. His muscles feel like stone under my palm as he struggles to catch his breath.
“Shit,” he rasps. “Can you grab some water?”
I go back for the bottle. He takes a sip, swishes, then spits into the snow.
One long breath, chest rising. He rolls his shoulders, pulling himself back together.
He heads for the gate again without saying a word.
Tom presses his hand to a scanner. A blue beam sweeps over his eye, then there’s soft beep, followed by a mechanical growl.
“Welcome, Thomas James McKenna,” a flat cyber voice declares.
A warmer welcome than biometric security is hard to imagine, but I guess this gate doesn’t open for people. It opens for assets.
The iron gates drag open and Tom gives me the tiniest nod to go back in the car. I hop in fast.
We drive into a dark forest. In the distance, I see an opening, like we’re approaching light at the end of a tunnel.
Snow crunches under the tires, no other tracks in sight. Either we’re the first to arrive, or the last ones to show up.
My eyes keep darting into the trees until I spot a small structure behind a fence, same gothic style as the front gate. A fountain? A statue? Hard to tell from here.
Suddenly, Stella’s voice cuts through my head; “They don’t let anyone in. And whoever manages to get in, won’t get out.”
I know she’s full of drama, but driving here now, I can feel that same eerie awe she had in her voice that day.
We break out of the trees, light hitting the windshield hard.
“Wow…” I whisper. That’s all that makes it past my lips.
The forest opens into a wide plain. The first thing I see is a huge frozen lake, so big it would take at least half an hour to walk all the way around. Around the water, spaced evenly like the points of a compass, are four wooden lodges.
I check the faint glow of light behind the thick clouds to get my bearings. It is a compass, with north representing the location of the biggest lodge, an impressively detailed wolf carved in dark oak above a set of double doors.
This is the den.
Tom is silent as he drives to the biggest lodge. There are twelve cars—same model, same color SUV—parked next to each other. As if my subconscious already expects the bizarre, each car has a sequential number plate. As I count, there’s one number missing; we’re probably the last ones.
There’s a spot between number five and seven. Tom parks there, completing the sequence as his license plate ends with the number six. I can’t deny it satisfies me.
“Leave the luggage in the car. We’re staying over there in the West House, but we have to greet everyone in the North first.”
His businesslike tone feels distant; Tom is building a wall.
He reaches for the handle to get out, but I grab his hand quickly, tugging him back into his seat. Our eyes meet.
“If things get too much, just say…pineapple cookie.”
“Pineapple cookie?”
“Yes. Our safe word for let’s get the fuck out of here.”
A little smile. “Pineapple cookie,” he repeats.
We get out of the car, and just as I’m about to grab the bottle of whiskey for Jay, a piercing scream nearly destroys my eardrums. My whole body snaps to alert. That shriek could only belong to one person.
“BABY!”
Joan comes running out of the den, wearing nothing but a tiny black lace dress and beige furry snow boots that look absurdly out of proportion with the outfit. She greets Tom exactly the way she did at SeaBreeze: a scream, a bit of theater, hanging like a little monkey around his neck.
A second squeal follows, obviously meant for me.
“No! Oh my God! Does Dad know you brought an outsider with you? I swear, Tom, you’re going to be so dead. I need to see this unfold.”
My eyes flick to Tom. He just shrugs, as if he’s already accepted his fate.
Joan’s right. This is a disaster in the making, but I knew that. Still, if there was ever a time I needed protection, it’s now, so I slide a hand over the black stone at my chest.
Joan tiptoes quickly around the car, snow crunching under her massive boots. Her last steps turn into a unicorn gallop before she launches herself at me like a jaguar. I’m left holding her by the thighs as she wraps her legs around my waist.
“Yosh!” She plants a few quick pecks on my cheek.
“Hey Joan, so nice to see you again.”
Struggling for air, I guide her back down to her feet.
“I can’t believe you’re here!” she beams, giving me another quick hug before darting off to Tom. Her fingers slip through his as she drags him into the house. I grab the whiskey, following the disaster duo inside.
Walking through the door, warmth hits me. My eyes take in everything, and it’s a lot: There’s a massive fireplace, two sweeping wooden staircases, and again, a giant wolf above the mantel. Except this one is taxidermied. Which is ofcourse, is highly illegal.
It’s all so warm and inviting, the way a home should be. Yet I know the reality is different. This place isn’t meant for people like me.
An outsider, Joan called me.
“Look who I found on the side of the road!” Joan lifts Tom’s hand into the air like she’s declaring him the champion of a boxing match.
The whole family circus looks up. The murmur dies instantly.
Silence.
Seven pairs of eyes land on me, Calvin and Finn among them.
Tom steps forward. “Hey everyone, this is…Yosh. He, uh—” And then he just stops. Completely.
Before I can think of a lifeline, two arms wrap around me; Joan hugs me from behind.
“This is Tom’s crystal therapist from Arcadia, the one I told you guys about the other day!”
She says it far too enthusiastically, which makes me wonder what exactly she told them, and who she’d told it to
Tom gives her a look that’s gratitude mixed with panic. I just let it all wash over me, exactly as I’d planned on doing.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a bouncer type murmuring into the mic at his ear, his eyes refusing to leave me for a second. No doubt that’s Jay’s security guy… What did Tarik call him again?
Right. KGB Guy.
He’s definitely giving off those vibes.