Chapter Seven. #2
Pipes shook his head. “Nah. Jameson felt like he’d failed too; because despite our network, we couldn’t find you.
Teller? Jesus, that guy rings once a fortnight to check on you.
You were twenty minutes from him, and he was unaware.
Teller ain’t handling that shit and sees that as his failure; a member of the RBMC was tortured for two months right under his nose! ”
Was Pipes right? Everything was so confusing.
“Talk to Wisecrack. Sit down and sort your head out,” Pipes suggested.
His phone rang. Pipes slid it from his pocket and flicked the answer button.
“You and Dynamo gotta come back immediately,” Warden ordered. His voice was upset and held a hint of fear. There was grief and disgust in it, too.
“What’s happened?” Pipes demanded.
“Home, now,” Warden repeated and cut the call.
I sighed and stood, reaching down to haul Pipes to his feet.
We entered the clubhouse and were shocked to find it empty. Pipes and I exchanged a glance and headed to church. The club was there.
“Now what?” Pipes snapped.
Warden held my gaze, and I knew this had to do with me.
“Hit me,” I said.
“After you left, we received a package.” Warden swapped a look with Undertaker, who was grim. “There was a flash drive.”
My stomach sank; Warden was about to destroy me.
“Say it,” I ground out.
“It was you. A rape. McKay.” Warden bit the words out.
I grasped the arms of my chair until my knuckles turned white. I felt like I was coming out of my skin. I collapsed inside. McKay hadn’t been lying.
“How much did you watch?” I spat.
“All of it. You lived it; you carry the scars. We need to understand how much we let you down,” Warden said gutturally.
“Ain’t right to suffer the memory alone,” Undertaker agreed.
“You all watched it?”
“No. Warden wouldn’t let us. Only he and Undertaker did,” Wyvern said.
Warden reached over and took my hand. He grasped it hard. “Fuckin’ proud of you.”
“What?” I demanded, shocked.
“Saw the fight in your eyes. You were spaced out, drugged up to the eyeballs, but I could see the struggle. You’d not given up; you were fighting,” he choked out.
“Warden, I was bent over a table and chained. Ain’t nothing to brag about there,” I forced out through stiff lips.
“Are you sitting here with us?” Thunderbird demanded.
“Yes?”
“Then we’re damn proud because you did what was needed to survive,” Aura said.
“Don’t care you were violated, we fuckin’ care you’re here with us,” Dare added.
It was a nice sentiment, but there were videos of what happened to me. Who else had one? Fuck, I could walk past somebody, and they’d sneer because they’d seen it and I wouldn’t know.
I began spiralling. Shit. Panic was encroaching, and I had to get out of there.
My fist connected with my opponent’s nose.
It crunched, and I danced backwards. Someone hit me from behind and knocked me forward.
I returned a roundhouse kick and hit him in the stomach.
I was in a six-way fight, and it was nasty.
Five men and me, and they thought they could take out the little woman first. They were finding they were wrong.
My reputation as a fighter was solid, but there was always someone who believed they could beat me.
These assholes were relatively new and were learning a lesson.
I twisted and found the third coming at me.
I throat-punched him, and he staggered away, wheezing for air.
He was down and out. The fourth got to his feet, and I knocked him straight back down with a flurry of punches.
The fifth backed away, looking at the carnage surrounding me. Fuckin’ coward.
Someone landed a heavy blow between my shoulder blades, and I staggered forward, the wind knocked out of me.
I took a moment and then turned as the first fighter came at me again.
We fought one-on-one while the others assessed my skills.
Clearly, they’d decided to pick other fights and began attacking each other.
Outside the cage, the crowd turned wild. Blood was spilling, and bones were breaking with insults flying.
One guy went down hard and wouldn’t get back up.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another outdoing his opponent.
Him, I wanted to fight. With a couple of hard punches, I knocked mine clear out and watched the last three.
Another soon hit the mat, and the winner turned to me.
He winced; it was the fool I throat-punched.
Grinning, I beckoned him on, and he came at me, almost resigned.
Five minutes later he tapped out when I broke his arm in two places. He couldn’t see out of his rapidly swelling eye either. The ref let him out of the cage, and it was me and the fighter I wanted. He grinned at me as I stared at him dispassionately.
“I’m going to make you scream,” he bragged. Oh great. He was one of those. A talker.
“Yeah, sure you are,” I replied, watching him. He was gearing up for something, and I needed to be ready.
“Gonna bend you over and fuck you front and back. That’s what you like,” he sneered.
I snapped. Had he seen a video of my rape?
I flew at him in such a fury he was totally caught unawares.
I pounded him into the mat, and all he could do was draw his arms in tight to protect his ribs.
Blow after blow landed; his jaw broke, teeth were knocked out, but I kept going.
This asshole had threatened me. How many other women had he harmed? Not again.
I kneed his groin so hard he screamed. He crashed to the mat, spitting blood, but I was beyond logic. I leapt on him, pummelling him and wrenching his arm back, dislocating it.
His screams echoed around the building as the crowd grew silent. The ref yelled something, but the hate and loathing were spilling from me. I kept punching, feeling his jaw crack, and then someone was pulling me off.
“Get the fuck off me!” I screamed and yanked free.
My opponent was a lifeless lump of bloody flesh, but I wanted him dead.
Five more punches were launched before I was hauled off him again.
I almost blasted them with my power, but instead broke away and turned, punching whoever dared interrupt my fight.
Griffin looked shocked as my blow landed, and his head snapped back.
“That’s enough!” Warden yelled as Griffin wriggled his jaw.
Oh shit. I’d punched a brother. My brother. I staggered as tiredness hit hard and my arms dropped. The crowd was roaring, but it was muted, like they knew I was going to kill the guy in front of them. As it was, he was surrounded by Slasher, two medics, and the doctor we kept on site.
“He’s circling the drain,” Slasher stated with a glance at me.
“Let him,” I replied coldly. “He’s no loss to society.”
Warden sent me a disgusted look and pointed me out of the cage. “Go wash up and meet me at the clubhouse.”
“Whatever.” I stormed away.
Warden
We were losing Dynamo to the hate, shame, and self-blame she was feeling.
Maybe we’d been wrong watching that footage, but damn it, she shouldn’t carry those nightmares alone.
I’d failed her, not found her in time, and our abilities hadn’t given us anything.
I deserved everything on my shoulders; a member of my club had been hurt because my ability fucked up.
Fuck, I didn’t care what it took; I wouldn’t lose her. If I had to make Romeo wipe Dynamo’s mind, I would; fuck the consequences. I needed to ensure my sister survived.
Dynamo knocked and entered before I could tell her to come in. She stomped to a chair and sat down with a glare.
“Since when do you stop fights?” she demanded.
“When you were about to murder someone with hundreds of witnesses.”
“He’s breathing, isn’t he?”
“Thanks to Slasher, yeah. Dynamo, you nearly killed him.”
“And? He threatened to fuck me back and front. Fucker won’t say that to a woman again.”
“He was talking smack, Dynamo! You all do it.”
“Doesn’t excuse it,” she sneered.
“Like when you tell them you’re going to bend them over and make them your bitch?” I shot back.
Dynamo’s lips pursed together.
“You’re relieved of the fight club for now. You need help, and until you get it, you’re too much of a liability.”
Dynamo sat up straight. “What the fuck did you say?”
“You heard me. You won’t let anyone help or talk to anyone, and you’re losing control. I order you to get therapy.”
Dynamo slammed her hands down on my desk as she rose to her feet.
“You’re ordering me?”
“I’m still your prez. Until you get help, either Wisecrack or a therapist, you’re sidelined.”
It was harsh but necessary. I’d allowed Dynamo to handle this on her own and thought she was coping. But she wasn’t, and now I had to act for her. Whether she hated me for it or not, my door slammed shut as she left, a total show of disrespect, but I’d let her have it. She was owed that.