25. Maddison
Maddison
The sun filters over my face as my eyes slowly flicker open, exhaustion weighing heavy on my eyelids. Yet I can't stop the smile that blooms on my face as I realize where I am. I'm in Ash’s bed, naked and tangled up in his dark sheets, curled up next to his warm, hard body.
Lying on his stomach, the muscles in his back ripple as he slowly moves his arm over me and pulls me tighter to his body.
I can't help but stare at him; his harsh features looking so soft as he sleeps, soft lips parted just slightly, dark lashes fanning his cheeks and dark hair a mess over his forehead.
His scarred skin is covered in black ink, patterns and symbols, and words covering the tanned, toned complexion.
Reaching out my fingertips, I trace the rose that snakes up his face, the thorns sharp and the petals blooming.
Then I trace the script over his eyebrow.
Unable to resist, the pads of my fingers skim over his soft lips, his stubble slightly longer than usual.
He's just too damn pretty. I lean over and plant a soft kiss on his lips, a low masculine groan slipping out of them, as I continue to meld our lips together.
Warmth radiates off him, and his lips move with mine. While we kiss, my mind drifts back to last night. The way my soul felt free. I was high on excitement and adrenaline. And for the first time, I felt like I really, truly belonged somewhere.
Even if it is with a group of criminals.
I needed last night more than I needed my next breath, and he gave that to me. And even more than that, he gave me a choice.
He groans softly as he wakes up, his lips chasing mine with more fervour, rolling on top of me, his hard cock resting against my stomach.
His hips slowly grind into me, chasing friction as he sleepily kisses me, his tongue delving into my mouth...
and I kiss him back just as hungrily. My fingers glide through his messy hair, pushing it off his face so I can see his features.
“Morning,” he grumbles between kisses against my lips.
His face drops into the crook of my neck, his nose nuzzling my skin as he inhales deeply, stubble scratching over my skin and soft lips finding the sensitive spot between my neck and shoulder.
“Morni...,” I go to say, but there's a hard knock on the door.
We both pause our kisses before another knock rattles the door. It's frantic and loud. Ash pulls back a line forming in his brow as the knocking continues.
“Boss,” we hear, muffled through the wood.
It's Griff. Ash jumps up, pulling on a pair of track pants before turning and giving me a reassuring smile.
“Be right back, Angel,” he mutters, turning to walk out of the bedroom and see what Griff wants.
I hear Ash answer the door. “Why the fuck can’t I get a sleep-in in this place?”
Griff doesn't wait another second before demanding, “You need to come down to the club.”
“It’s early. I’m sure you boys have it handled,” Ash replies.
His voice is still drenched in sleep, a groan coming from him as I peer over and watch him stretch. My mouth waters at the way his muscles flex with the movement. Clutching the sheet to my chest, I continue to watch them through the doorway.
Griff’s facial expressions make me pause.
Something is wrong. I can feel it instantly. I stumble out of the warm bed, quickly pulling on an oversized shirt and padding out of the room.
Griff spares me a single glance before looking back at Ash. His expression is hard and blank; loose curls tumble out of his bun, and dark circles are painted under his eyes.
“Just get down to the fucking club now,” he says, before storming off.
Ash turns, and I see the tension in his own face. He knows that something's wrong too. He chucks me a pair of his boxers, and I put them on before he tugs on a dark shirt, and we're running down the stairs to the club. My heart is pattering in my chest, but his hand holds mine tight.
The scent of alcohol and something metallic hits my senses immediately, my hair standing on edge as I look around the club. It’s a mess; alcohol bottles strewn everywhere, discarded clothing, evidence of last night’s party.
But I can't focus on any of that. Devils circle around something in the middle of the club. Ash pushes through the crowd, still gripping my hand tightly. I tilt my head, trying to see what everyone is looking at, but Ash quickly turns, darting in front of me, clutching my head to his chest.
“Angel, you need to get the fuck out of here,” he murmurs, holding me tight as I squirm in his arms. “Promise me you'll turn around, go with Kai, and leave.”
“What? What's going on?” I protest, peering up at him. My stomach drops when I see the colour draining from his face. “Tell me, Ash, tell me what's going on.” My voice turns panicky.
“Please,” he growls. “I need you out of here.”
Defeated, I give him a nod. Fear thumping in my veins, ice-cold dread sluices down my spine.
“Kai!” Ash shouts. I turn and Kai’s there, and even his dead expression looks further withdrawn. “Get her home now.”
Kai gives a single nod, his hands coming up to grip my arm, turning us away towards the front door. I let him drag me a few steps away, but instinct has my head twisting over my shoulder.
When I see what everyone is surrounding, a sharp cry leaves my lips.
“No,” I gasp. “No, no, no, no.”
Ash's eyes fall closed slowly as he exhales, his face a picture of desperate dread. But I can't focus on that.
All I can see is the silent scream etched onto Thomas's dismembered head. It lies in the middle of the club, blood still dripping out from where his neck used to be attached to his shoulders.
Nausea roils in my stomach as I stand frozen, eyes wide on the head of the man I considered a new friend. The man I danced with just hours before. The man who held me and kissed me, and fucked me. Now lifeless, without even a body to bury.
“Who would do this?'“ I mutter to no one, to anyone. “Why would they do this? Who would do this?”
Everyone's silent, their heads hung heavy as they stare at their brother. A look of despair on their faces.
Thomas’s sandy blonde hair is matted with crimson. The air in the club is wildly different to how it was just hours before when we were celebrating. Now death and grief hang heavy, along with the stench of blood.
And then it hits me.
This is retaliation.
This is retaliation from last night when we burned down that building. Whoever owned that Casino has fired back in the worst of ways. They took it and they used it to kill one of the Devils.
“This is my fault,” I gasp.
I gag, turning just in time to throw up on the floor, heaving the contents of my stomach as the realisation settles heavy in my bones.
Ash strides over to me, gripping my face in both of his hands, his eyes wild as he looks down at me. “This isn’t your fault, baby,” he hisses, hands trembling beside my face. “I promise this isn’t your fault.”
“I threw the bottle, Ash! It’s because of that, isn’t it?” My cry is jagged, my heart breaking as I see the look on Ash’s face. “He’s dead! Because of me!”
Sadness weighs heavily in his eyes as he shakes his head, letting his forehead fall to mine.
“Please,” he sighs. “Please believe me. This isn’t on you.” And I want to. I want to believe him so badly, but the truth is clear to see. “But I need you to go, Angel. You hear me? I’ll come find you when I’m done.”
I nod, and he steps back, his warmth disappearing in an instant. Like a magnet, my eyes are drawn back to Thomas. Or what’s left of him, my heart cracking in my chest.
“Kai, get her the fuck out of here,” Ash growls once more.
Kai lifts my shaking body, scooping me into his arms. Shock seizes me as he carries me out. My eyes lock on Thomas, his face twisted in pain and fear, and they remain on him all the way to the very moment the door shuts behind us.
Ugly, raw sobs tear from my chest, and I barely remember Kai placing me in the seat of a random truck. I barely remember the drive over. I couldn't tell you how I got to the front door of my apartment, Kai next to me, waiting for me to enter.
My fingers shake as I reach for my key, and it fumbles from my hands onto the ground. Kai ducks down to pick it up, sliding the key into the door on the first try. I move to shove it open, but he stops me with a hand up.
“I will kill the man who did this,” he murmurs softly, and weirdly it brings me more comfort than it should.
My eyes drop to the ground as he finally steps away, letting me enter my apartment that no longer feels like a home.
Not that it ever did.
The door behind me echoes. My tears start again.
They start slow, but then they begin pouring out, one after the other, as my chest heaves with sobs.
Hardwood bites into my back as I fall against the door, slowly sliding down until I'm crouching on the floor, drawing my knees to my chest and hugging them tight.
My face falls against my knees as I weep; grief, shock, despair, and fear coming out in one single tidal wave.
Foolish. I've been so foolish pretending that this isn't Ash's life, pretending that their everyday lives don't involve death and war.
How could I be so stupid? How could I throw those flames and not expect something bad to come from it? Every decision in my life has been calculated for a reason. To stop the consequences and limiting all risks.
And this is one big consequence.
My body trembles as I clutch onto myself as hard as I can, falling apart at the front of my apartment.
Stupidly, the only person I want to comfort me is Ash.
Yet, something inside of me screams not to think that.
Screams that his world is not for me. I might be able to play pretend for one night, let all my ambitions go and run wild with the Devils, but that's all it is.
It’s pretend.
That is not my life.
That can never be my life. My life is in an office. My life is loneliness. My life is safe.