Prologue #3
He wasn’t even sure how it started. Knox’s sister randomly wrote to him.
The note was generic, impersonal, but so very sweet, awkward, and kind.
As time went on, she opened up a little more about her life.
It wasn’t much to speak of, even she acknowledged that.
The weather, her daily routine, and her shitty jobs.
Other times she talked about her home, what she saw, what she did.
How she felt. But she wasn’t honest. Her words were carefully curated, never giving too much detail.
It took both him and Knox to read between the lines.
Wraith knew all about Knox’s past with his mother.
An alcoholic, an addict, abusive, and toxic.
Knox had gotten away. Cleo hadn’t. There was hope things had turned out differently for his sister, but all signs were pointing to no such luck.
Oh, the irony. Two men willing to lay down their lives, fight hard, and kill, if need be, couldn’t do a goddamn thing locked behind metal bars and barbed wire. Cleo hadn’t said anything too revealing in her letters, but there was an underlying fear. Wraith sensed it. So did Knox.
Wraith grasped his jaw, eyeing the small envelope a few feet away on the desk.
One envelope, one letter, and familiar writing.
He’d memorized her script, the way her A sometimes looked like an E, and how she carelessly forgot to cross her Ts.
It was her personal style, as he’d learned throughout the years.
Yeah, years! That was how long she’d written to him.
While he’d never admit it to anyone, he liked it.
Looked forward to her letters that seemed to come on a rigid schedule.
Then, they’d stopped. The first week he’d chalked it up to a delay.
The next week, he brushed it off. Who the hell cares anyway?
By the third week, he realized he did. Missing out on her letters fanned an anger festering inside of him.
Something he’d come to think of as his possession had been taken away.
A lot of people had suffered as a result of his rage. All for lack of a letter. From her.
Wraith slowly angled his head, reaching across the small space, grabbing the letter, and tucking himself in the lower bunk.
He stretched his legs and eyed the address.
It was definitely her handwriting. Prim and proper, a little bubbly and soft.
Very feminine. It was exactly how he’d envisioned Cleo.
How long had it been since he’d felt a woman’s touch?
Two years felt like forever. Wraith had never been a stranger to women.
A lot were intimidated, but more were intrigued.
His size, muscle, and brutal yet handsome looks attracted them all.
He’d bedded hundreds of women. But where the fuck are they now?
Those women had been happily by his side.
Until shit got real. Now he was alone except for his brothers in the club. And her.
He slipped his finger inside the envelope and pulled out the lined paper, unfolding it. A sweet scent wafted, firing his senses. He wasn’t sure if she’d done it intentionally, or if it just carried her scent. Either way, it had become familiar, and in a way, comforting.
Hi Wraith!
I hope this letter finds you safe and well. I’m sorry I haven’t written in a while. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to hear from me. But Knox said you would, so here goes.
Nothing much has changed since I’ve last written.
I’m still at the same jobs. The hours are long, but it’s pretty good money.
And I just got a fifty-cent raise. It’s not much but it’s something, right?
Remember Mario from the pizzeria? I mentioned him in my last letter.
Well, he found out Albert was skimming from the register, and they had an actual fistfight in the middle of the dining floor.
In front of customers and everything! It was wild.
Needless to say, Albert got fired, and Mario’s court date is set for next month.
We all have our faults, right? Hahaha… Not too much else to report. I’m kind of boring.
If you want to write back, I’d love that. And if you don’t, that’s okay too. I know we’ve never met, but any brother of Knox’s is a brother of mine. If you don’t want me to write, just tell Knox and I’ll stop. I don’t want to bother you.
I’m not really big on prayer. I’m more of a spiritual soul. So, sending you lots of positive and safe vibes.
Your friend, Cleo
Wraith read the letter again. And again. By the fourth time, he had it memorized. He glanced down at the very bottom of the note.
P.S. I enclosed a picture of me. It’s from my yearbook. It’s not my best. I guess it’s kind of silly actually. But I thought maybe putting my face to the letters might make me seem like less of a stranger to you. Anyway, bye Wraith.
He dug into the envelope and pulled out her picture.
Fuck!
It was a generic picture. Every high school yearbook showcased the same pose.
A side angle, head tilted, dressed in a black cape of sorts.
There was nothing special or unique except the girl photographed.
Her smile was awkward and forced, her light blue eyes squinting slightly.
Her dark hair covered too much of her face, shielding her best feature.
It would be hard to notice her high cheekbones to anyone else, but Wraith saw them.
Her face almost seemed heart shaped with a pointed chin.
She didn’t wear heavy makeup, but he noticed her cheeks were especially pink.
He moved the picture closer and inspected her left cheekbone.
It was faint, but he saw a purple-darkened splotch that didn’t match her other cheek.
He clenched his jaw, staring at her face. Too innocent, too pretty, and too damaged. But the visual was stirring something inside him.
The last thing he should be obsessing over was a graduation picture of his brother’s little sister. But…she was beautiful. Not in an obvious way. Cleo wouldn’t necessarily capture a room, but she had an understated beauty that hadn’t quite developed yet.
The loud pounce caught his attention, and he jerked his head. Knox had jumped down from the top bunk. He was leaning forward with his arms extended and hands grasping to the edge of the bed frame with a taunting smile.
“Don’t break the brotherhood code.”
Wraith furrowed his brows. He’d never broken any code in his life.
“Don’t jerk off to my little sister. It’s fucking wrong, man.”
It was.
Wraith tossed the photo on to the mattress. “Got no use for that. Fucking take it.”
Knox grasped it, glancing down at the photo. He straightened, staring down at the picture and cocking his head with a small smile playing on his lips.
“She’s pretty, right?” His brother’s teasing tone had Wraith balling his fists.
Fuck you, Knox. Wraith continued to glare and remain silent.
Knox snorted with his eyes laser focused on the picture. “She’s the first.”
“First of what?”
He stepped away, walking toward the desk and pinning the picture on the wall.
“First to graduate high school. Four generations couldn’t do it. I sure as fuck didn’t. But she did.” There was no missing the pride in his tone, or the admiration in his stare. Wraith didn’t know Cleo, but she was something special to Knox.
He straightened, glancing over at Wraith. “Let’s get dinner.”
Wraith rolled out of bed and sat staring across the room, over the desk, and zoning in on Cleo’s picture.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
For the next year, that would be his view among the countless letters he’d receive from her. Twice a month, without fail.
Cleo showed up when he needed her. Not physically.
She never visited in person. Had she? Wraith would’ve made a point of being present.
Even if all he got was one look through metal bars.
While he’d never admit it, he owed Cleo.
She’d been the only person who made him feel like he was something while serving his time.
It was a favor Wraith fully intended on repaying.