Chapter 4 #3
I walk over and take it. The handwriting hits before the words do. Diesel's chicken scratch, all hard angles and impatience.
WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?
"Mercy," I breathe. I lunge for the landline mounted on the kitchen wall, my fingers trembling as I punch in the clubhouse number. Three rings. Four. Each one stretching time like torture.
"Yeah." Diesel's voice, gravel and cigarettes.
"It's me," I say, voice steadier than my insides. "Where's—"
"Is that Legion?" A small, sleepy voice cuts through the background.
The tension drains from my shoulders so fast I nearly drop the phone. "Let me talk to her."
"Nah." Diesel's voice hardens. "You got some explainin’ to do first, brother. You've been missing for three fucking days. Where the fuck are you? Brick's been patient, we all have. Took the kid in. But this shit ends now. We got people here, product moving. Ya understand?"
"I get it," I say, lowering my voice. "Shit went down here. I'll explain—"
"What shit?" Diesel growls.
I look at Savannah, bruised and drugged against my counter. At the shotgun I set down. At the blood still drying under my fingernails.
"They kidnapped us, Diesel. We just got free."
"What? Who?" He's bellowing. "Who the fuck kidnapped you?"
"I'll be there," I say, each word measured. "Soon as I can. And I'll tell ya everythin’. It's too much for the phone and I need to take care of Savannah. She's been drugged for three days."
Then I hang up, not waiting for his answer, not interested in his approval.
This goes way beyond club business.
This is personal.
I guide Savannah to the bathroom, one arm around her waist like she's made of smoke that might scatter in a breeze. The drugs are still inside her, makin’ her movements slow and dreamlike.
She doesn't flinch when I flip the light on, doesn't blink at the sudden brightness. That scares me more than the bruises.
I turn the shower knob all the way left, hot as it'll go. Steam rises, filling the small space between us.
"Let me," I whisper, reaching for the hem of her torn dress.
She lifts her arms like a child. The fabric comes away, and there it is—the evidence.
Bruises blooming across her ribs, her thighs.
Fingerprints pressed into her skin like they were trying to claim her from the inside out.
The zip tie burns around her wrists, raw and angry.
I catalog each mark, each wound. File them away with the debt I'll collect later.
The demon in my chest paces behind my ribs, hungry for blood. I breathe through it. Not now. Not here.
She stands naked before me, our eyes meetin’. But there's nothing sexual in it. Just broken things recognizing each other.
I shed my own clothes, wincing as dried blood pulls at new scabs, then guide her under the spray. She gasps as the hot water hits her skin, the first real sound she's made since we got here.
I let her stand in the water as I wash her hair.
Long, careful strokes. Rinse. Condition.
Like I'm putting something precious back together.
She leans into my hands, eyes closed. I wash her body next, gentle over the bruises, gentler over the places Marcus touched.
Like I could wash him away if I just try hard enough.
She kisses me first. Reaches up, pulls my face down to hers. She tastes broken. Her fingers find the brand on my chest—the Badlands 'B' red and swollen against my skin. She traces it, questions in her touch.
"It means family," I say, voice low against her ear. "Could be yours too, if you want it." My fingers brush her cheek. "The club protects what's mine, and you—" I press my forehead to hers, "—you're the most mine thing I've ever had."
Steam clouds around us, thick enough to hide in. Her body trembles against mine, but not from cold. From need. From something neither of us can name.
"I need you," she whispers, her voice cracking on the words.
"I need you too," I say, because a truer thing has never been said.
“No, Legion.” She breathes heavy. Labored. Looks up at me. “I need you. Inside me.”
“Savannah, I don’t—”
Her fingertips on my lips stop the objection. “Shh,” she says. “Please don’t argue with me. You don’t understand. He…”
“He what?” I growl. She doesn’t answer. “Did he rape you?”
Her head shakes and relief floods through me.
“He… cleaned me, Legion. I don’t even know what that means, but…” Her eyes plead with me. “He left a mark. Some kind of mark on me. And water isn’t enough to chase it away. I need you.”
Now it makes sense. She needs me to erase him. To be inside her so she can forget about whatever he did.
I understand this is not a fix. It’s a cope.
But I can’t deny that I need it too. To claim her as mine again.
My hands slide down her sides, mapping the bruises, memorizing each one. I lift her up like she weighs nothing, pressing her back against the tiled wall. Her legs wrap around my waist, ankles crossing behind me. The brand on my chest burns where it touches her skin.
"Tell me if I hurt you," I murmur against her throat.
She shakes her head, water droplets falling from her hair. "You can't."
I line myself up and push inside her, slow and steady. She's tight, slick, perfect. Her breath catches, a small sound that cuts through the steam and water. I hold still, buried to the root, our bodies locked together.
"Fuck," I breathe against her ear. "Feel how good we fit? Like you were made for me."
Her fingers dig into my shoulders, nails leaving marks in my skin. "Move," she commands, the drugs making her voice raw. "Please."
I do. Slow, deep strokes that make her gasp with each one. No rush. No hurry. Just us, finding our way back to each other through the hurt. The water runs down my back, between us where we're joined. Her head falls back against the tile, eyes half-closed, mouth open.
"That's it," I encourage, my voice a growl. "Take what you need."
She tightens around me, walls clenching. "Legion," she moans, the sound of my name on her lips better than any prayer.
I thrust deeper, harder, but still measured. Still in control. Her legs tighten around me, pulling me closer. The bruises on her thighs press against my hips, but she doesn't wince. Doesn't pull away.
"You’re mine," I whisper against her throat. "Say it."
"Yours," she gasps, nails digging deeper. "Always yours."