Chapter 3
3
Sienna / Syla
Four Years Earlier
“Don’t you dare take another fucking step,” Diesel growled at me. The terse, deep rasp of his voice stopped me in my tracks.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going? You forgetting who you belong to?” He pointed at his ring finger where my name was tattooed in script. A few weeks ago, after a particularly nasty fight, he’d come back home with SYLA inked into his skin. Intricate swirls wrapped from the first letter around the underside to the last, creating a band. It had been his way of saying he was sorry, but the irony wasn’t lost on me. Now we were both marred for life. Most of the damage he’d inflicted on me was on the inside, but there were times he made that trauma bloom on my face for the whole world to see.
He shook the leather cut in his hand that I’d tossed at him just minutes earlier. “And this rocker right here, the one that reads ‘Property of Diesel,’ tells the world you claimed me too.”
Property . That’s what I was. A thing .
The woman I used to be had become nothing more than something he owned. I looked at the leather patch stuck to the vest I’d been wearing for the last year one last time, at my blood staining it, and bile rose in my throat. “I’m not taking your bullshit any longer, D. I’m tired of being the doormat you wipe your feet on when you’ve had a bad day.” I pointed to the fresh bruise on my cheek. “You think this is okay? You think beating on me is okay?” I shrieked. “Does this make you feel more of a man that you can beat on a woman? You said you loved me. This isn’t love. It’s pain.”
“I told you to keep your nose out of club business. You just couldn’t help yourself.” The alcohol he’d been consuming all day spit out with his words.
The cynic in me laughed. “Club business. You mean drugs and whores? That club business? Asking where you were all night again gets me this?” I could feel exactly where his hand had landed; the outline of his fingers still burned from the sting. “I know what you did.” I left Freddie’s name out of this argument, but I knew. And he knew I knew. The guy I’d once loved was gone, replaced by a heartless, coldblooded murderer.
“I can’t even look at you. This isn’t love. This is abuse and I’m not taking one more second of it.” I turned my back on him, grabbed my purse, and headed out the front door. I felt the vibration of his fury as he thundered out behind me.
“Fucking bitch. Who the fuck do you think you are? Don’t you walk away from me. You think you can speak to me like that and not pay the price?” Diesel’s drunk voice rose, and I feared the neighbors would hear it—not that any of them would do anything about it. The sketchy neighborhood he’d parked us in was bad enough—drug dens and abandoned shitholes. I didn’t need anyone else getting involved. What I needed was help getting away. On foot wasn’t going to get me there fast enough. The thunder of his black riding boots through the gravel came faster as he stormed after me.
I sprinted to my car in the dirt driveway, until I heard the sound of the slide on his pistol being cocked back. “Don’t you take another fucking step, Syla, or it will be your last.”
The 9mm that had been tucked in the back of his jeans was now pointed right at me. “You going to shoot me, D?” It was a stupid question. When I turned, I saw his face and those cold, dead eyes, tense and raging with pure insanity.
He was absolutely going to shoot me, and there was nothing I could do about it. I’d poked the bear too hard this time. But I couldn’t contain the words that left my mouth next. “Do it. Show me how much you LOVE ME ! You’re just trying to scare me, and it ain’t working.”
I’d been putting off this decision long enough. My brain screamed at me to “ RUN!” while that constant terror I existed in had me frozen once again.
I pivoted to reach my car door, but not fast enough. I heard the crack as the bullet left the chamber. Excruciating pain ripped through my shoulder and chest, tossing me into the front of my car. More pain shot through my body as my knees and face slammed into the dirt and gravel.
He’d done it. He’d finally done it. All those threats to kill me had finally happened. All those times I’d forgiven him had turned to this. My body started to grow numb as blood gushed between my fingers.
Gunfire echoed from across the street as several men exited the abandoned house. I managed to turn my head and saw Diesel running for our front door. He’d made it halfway up the driveway before he faltered, stumbling to the ground as a bullet pierced through his leg. Another shot came from behind me and D grunted, spewing a string of expletives towards the men ordering him to freeze.
One man crouched beside me, searching my hips for weapons. Blue denim swam before my blurry vision. I caught a glimpse of the bright silver and gold metal badge hanging from his neck and the gold DEA letters on his bulletproof vest.
I didn’t have the luxury of enjoying seeing Diesel shot too, lying face first on the ground, getting what he deserved. I cried out in agony when the agent’s hand added extra pressure on top of mine. He pulled a phone from his pocket, telling the voice on the line that he needed ambulances at 4236 Pecan Lane. “You’re going to be okay. Just don’t move. What’s your name?” he asked, but I just shook my head, unable to form the words.
All those times I’d envisioned leaving. All those times my feet were too scared to move. I’d prayed for answers, for anything to get me far away from this house, this place, and Diesel. It didn’t matter that they were putting cuffs on him now. He’d get out. He and his brothers always got out. I’d seen it too many times before. Maybe murder charges would finally lock the animal away. He deserved to rot in prison.
My skin felt like ice. Everything just felt so final, as if my tainted soul was finally free. Even if I managed to survive this, which was slowly becoming less likely… eventually he’d come after me and finish me. It would always be my fault. It was always my fault. I closed my eyes one last time and pictured my momma holding me in her heavenly arms.
There’d be no more pain. No more tears.
That was the day Syla Tatum died.