Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Lola
A somber Hannibal called an emergency church meeting.
He explained to me what they’d found, though I suspect he was sparing me the worst of the details.
I appreciated it, still feeling raw and emotionally drained from the day.
He had Repo walk me home, and while I absorbed all the love my boy and Millie had to give, I couldn’t help but worry about Hannibal and all the shit swirling around the club.
Even now, a week later, tensions are running so high that the kids are picking up on it.
I watch him grab his cut and slip it on, noting how tired he looks.
“Should I be concerned you might fall off your bike?”
He grins but shakes his head.
“I’ve survived on less sleep.”
“That’s not nearly as comforting as you think it is.”
“Come here.”
He opens his arms, and I walk into them without hesitation.
“It’s taken me a week to get this meeting. Hazzard is a hard man to get hold of, and I didn’t want to say this shit over the phone.”
“I know. And I know you have to go. It doesn’t mean I can’t worry about you, now does it?”
“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t worry,” he teases me, dipping his head and kissing me lightly.
“Ugh, not again. Close your eyes, Evan. You don’t need to see this.” I grin against Hannibal’s mouth as Millie strolls into the room with Evan in her arms.
“Don’t listen to her, Evan.” Hannibal walks over to her and ruffles her hair, making her huff before he steals Evan.
“You are such a baby hog,” she pouts.
“That’s rich coming from you.” She rolls her eyes and throws herself down dramatically on the sofa.
“How’d the visit with Jane go earlier?”
I look back at Hannibal before offering Evan a wide smile.
“Good. She loves the house and fawned all over Evan.”
“Of course she did. He’s a handsome boy.” Hannibal kisses his head before handing him off to me.
“Right, I’m gonna go before it gets too late. Don’t wait. I have no idea what time we’ll get back.”
“Just be careful.”
He kisses me, keeping this one quick before calling out a goodbye to Millie, which gets him a grunt in return.
He turns to step away, but I grab his arm, feeling my stomach cramp with worry.
“Just come back to me, okay?”
“Promise.” He winks and leaves.
I sigh and walk over to the sofa, plonking myself down.
“The kissing burns my eyes,” Millie announces, turning her head to look at me.
“That sounds like a you problem, Millie.”
“God, I can’t live in these conditions.” She flounces off before coming back and stealing my son again.
“I’m going to forget what my kid looks like at this rate,” I tell the empty room before I hear scratching at the backdoor.
Opening it up, I find to two rather excited dogs who I spend thirty minutes fussing over before they run off once more.
Hannibal offered for me to keep them here at the house, but after a couple of nights of howling it became apparent they preferred their kennels, so we just let them wander the property freely.
Now they come and go like house guests, only they eat more and demand that I stoke them until my arms ache.
Once they’re gone, I begin the exciting task of laundry and making dinner followed by bathing Evan and feeding him before settling him down for the evening.
Byte pops around to check on us, bringing pizza that I put in the fridge, knowing Millie will polish it off if her father doesn’t.
After Byte leaves, when Millie’s in bed and Evan is out cold in the cradle in our room, I pull out my book and try to distract myself from worrying about Hannibal, by losing myself in a world of make-believe.
After reading the same page four times, I eventually give up and burrow under the covers, tugging Hannibal’s pillow under my head because it smells like him.
My nerves are making me feel nauseous, but I don’t think they’re going to settle until Hannibal's back home, safe and sound beside me. I toss and turn for a little while but eventually, exhaustion wins out and I drift off into a fitful sleep.
It’s the sound of breaking glass that wakes me. I jolt up, my eyes darting around the room as I fight off the vestiges of sleep.
Maybe I was dreaming? Just as I’m about to lie back down, I hear something falling to the floor with a soft thud. I freeze solid. I tell myself that Millie must have let the dogs back in or maybe Hannibal's home early, but too many years in survival mode have honed my instincts.
Someone’s in the house.
I climb out of bed as quietly as I can and hurry over to Evan’s cradle.
I scoop him into my arms, grabbing his pacifier as I go.
Hurrying out of the bedroom as quietly as I can, I tiptoe down the stairs to Millie’s room.
Flipping the lamp on beside her bed, I shake her gently awake, placing my finger against my lips for her to be quiet when she jolts awake.
“There's someone in the house. I need you to take Evan and hide in the tunnels.”
She jumps out of bed and takes Evan so I can hurry over to the bookcase and ease it away from the wall. Grabbing her cell phone from the bedside table, I place it on Evan’s stomach and usher her inside.
“You stay hidden no matter what you hear. Call Hannibal. Tell him what’s happening.”
“Come with us,” she whispers, tears running down her face.
I cup her cheek and kiss her forehead, my own tears slipping free as I dip my head and kiss Evan’s head. “Go. Take care of your brother for me, okay?” I choke out.
“I will, I promise,” she cries as I ease her farther inside and slide the bookcase back into place.
I swallow hard before wiping my tears and creeping back out of the room. I pause when there's another creak, this one sounding like it’s the bottom step. Darting into Hannibal’s office, I tug the top drawer open and fumble with the lockbox where he keeps his spare gun.
It takes me three tries to open it because my hands are shaking so badly. I check to make sure the gun is loaded, then head back to the door and peek out. Part of me wants to stay here and hide, but I don’t want anyone searching the house and stumbling across Millie and Evan. My boy might be quiet now while he’s asleep, but if he wakes up and starts crying, it won’t take long for whoever is here to find them.
Blowing out a steadying breath, I slip out the door and head back to my bedroom. I climb into bed with the gun in my hand and slide it under the pillow, faking sleep. I work on steadying my breathing, but it proves to be far harder than I anticipated, with my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. Feeling my stomach pitch and churn, I try to swallow down the impending need to vomit.
I know who’s here. It’s too much of a coincidence that the one night Hannibal leaves, someone breaks in. I knew this day would come, though I prayed so fucking hard that it wouldn’t. I knew it would take more than a coma to stop Driller from coming for me.
And the worst thing about all this is that it isn’t even about me. It’s never been about me. I’ve always just been a stupid freaking pawn in a game I never wanted to play. My growing anger slowly begins to smother my fear, and for once, I don’t try to fight it back. I let it flood my veins. I let it consume me to the point it might choke me to death. That’s when I hear the door handle turn.
It’s just a soft snick of a noise, something I wouldn’t normally hear if I wasn’t listening for every groan and creak. I force myself to stay still, even though I can sense him approaching the bed.
As soon as I feel a hand lock around my ankle and yank me down the bed, I react. Hannibal would never play these kinds of games with me, especially not after knowing my story. With that thought in my head, I turn with the gun in my hand and fire at the figure looming above me.
The noise is so loud it makes my ears ring and my head throb in pain. I keep firing until the gun clicks, signaling that it’s out of bullets. Only then do I remember to breathe.
The smell of smoke permeates the air as I suck in a deep breath, and the ringing in my ears means I can’t hear anything. However, the crack in the drapes lets enough moonlight through to illuminate the figure sprawled across the floor beside the bed.
My heart is beating so out of control I’m left panting, but I force myself to put the gun on the pillow next to me and slip off the bed. I walk slowly to the body, half expecting it to pull a horror movie move and jump up and grab me. When nothing happens, I edge closer.
Bending down, I nudge the bulky shoulder but get no response. All it confirms is that my intruder is male. With fumbling fingers, I press them against his neck, searching for a pulse. I can’t find anything, and with how much I’m shaking, I’m not sure I’d notice it anyway.
Ready to take a leaf out of Scooby Doo’s book and unmask my attacker, I stumble to the light switch and flick it on, bathing the room in a bright light that makes me wince. I hurry back to the body. When I see the cut covering his back, I freeze, covering my mouth with my hand and swallowing down my cry as I take in the rest of the figure lying on their stomach in a rapidly spreading pool of blood.
It has dark hair like Driller’s, but there's gray threaded through it. Gray that Driller doesn’t have. It’s bulky, too, like they lift weights a lot, which Driller doesn’t. I bite my lip to keep from panicking and taste blood as I move back to the body and drop to my knees.
It’s not Driller. The thought explodes in my head like a bomb.
I just killed someone. A member of Raven Souls MC who might have been here to help me. Or to warn me.
My eyes fly to the doorway. And there I find Driller grinning at me manically, with his gun aimed at my chest.
“Is it my turn now?” he asks as I fall on my ass and shuffle back until I collide with bed.
“You shot an innocent man, Lola. There’s no coming back from that, trust me.” He steps into the room, looking around briefly, but the gun doesn’t waver. “So the rumors are true. While I lay in a coma, you were fucking the next club brother to come along. You planning on becoming a whore now, Lola? Gotta taste of that Raven dick and can’t get enough, huh? Maybe I need a reminder of what I’ve been missing out on.”
My breathing saws in and out of me with a painful wheeze as my brain tries to process what’s happening.
“How?”
He cocks his head. “How do I want to fuck you, or how am I here?” A cruel smirk plays around the edges of his mouth as he takes another step closer. “This is what happens when you trust a psychopath, you idiot. I’m guessing Hannibal didn’t tell you I was awake. Funny, when he came to visit me, he told me he would, but maybe he was worried you’d come running back to me. As if I’d take back a whore like you.”
I shake my head. “No. You’re lying. Hannibal would've told me.”
“And yet, here we are. Tell me, Lola, do you ever get sick of being a dumb cunt? I mean, you play the part well. Never met someone so fucking stupid in all my life. The only good thing about you was your tight cunt, but now that you’ve had my kid, even that’s ruined. Talking of which, where is my son? I’ll be taking him with me.”
“Over my dead body!” I hiss, pressing myself into the bedframe, my hands slipping underneath it as Driller crouches in front of me.
My fingers touch something cool. Something hard. I run my fingers over it and wince when I cut myself.
A scalpel.
Driller's oblivious as he reaches for my face with his free hand and grips my jaw tight enough to elicit a yelp from me. “That can easily be arranged. Though I have to say, it might be more fun to watch Hannibal have to kill you himself for taking the life of one of his men.”
“No. It was an accident,” I grit out as he brings his face closer.
“And who is he going to believe? A whore like you?”
I blink before narrowing my eyes. “Yes. He’ll believe me. He knows me.”
He erupts into laughter, his whole body shaking as he chuckles at my expense. “So fucking naive. All he wanted was a warm pussy in his bed and a house mouse to raise the brats. I’ve seen that daughter of his, though. Must take after the mother because she’s fine. Gotta say, I’ll enjoy picking her cherry.” He licks his lips before leaning down and kissing me.
I bite his tongue, making him pull back with a roar. I wrap my fingers around the cool metal of the scalpel just as he punches me in the side of my head, grazing my temple. Before I can react, he hits me again, this time on the cheekbone, making my face feel like it’s going to explode. I drop the scalpel instinctively so I can grasp the bed to stop myself from falling.
The room spins as I struggle to stay upright, but then Driller starts raining down punch after punch, each more vicious than the last, before he drags me across the floor by my hair. He straddles my chest with his large body before he wraps his hands around my throat and starts to squeeze.
I kick and flail my legs, punch and kick, and search with my hands for the scalpel. But the lack of oxygen and pressure on my chest has me quickly losing steam.
He leans down over me and grins widely. “I’m going to fill all your holes with my cum, so when Hannibal finds you, he’ll be reminded of what a dirty little slut you are.”
A black film starts to cover my vision as my head throbs painfully and my lungs burn like I’ve swallowed fire. Tears slip free as my body starts to shut down. I mutter a prayer that it’s Hannibal who finds me and not Millie, when I hear a loud, piercing cry.
Driller freezes, his hands moving from my throat as he climbs off me and gets to his feet.
I cough and wheeze, trying to suck in much-needed air, though my chest feels like it’s caving in on itself.
“You thought you could keep him from me?” he snarls down at me. I can just about make him out through swollen eyes. I see the kick coming, but I can’t move fast enough to avoid it. The force of it has me rolling back toward the bed, only it wasn’t as painful as I expected it to be. I frown, trying to figure out why as he kicks me again, making me yelp.
“You know what this party needs? A couple of kids. Kids love parties, right?” He kicks me again.
I shove my arm out, trying to stop my momentum, and feel the scalpel touch my fingertips. I grab hold of it tightly just as Driller silently stalks out of the room, following the sound of Evan’s cries.
It clicks then. He’s not wearing his boots. That’s why the kicks hurt but didn’t shatter my ribs. Not that it matters. I try to get to my feet, but it’s impossible so I crawl after him, dragging my left leg, which doesn’t seem to be working right. Still, I refuse to give up. I have to stop Driller from getting his hands on Millie and Evan.
By the time I’ve dragged myself down the stairs to Millie’s room, I’m in agony. Driller figured out that they’re behind the bookcase. The loud crying from my hungry boy drowns out any noise I might be making as he searches the bookcase for a switch.
“How the fuck do I open this thing?” he grouses, kicking the bookcase.
I keep crawling until I’m right behind him before my arms give out. Using what strength I have left, I do the only thing I can. I swipe the scalpel across the back of his heels with as much force as I can, first one then the other.
He screams as he falls, collapsing on top of me, which is when I finally give in to the darkness. Only this time, I do it with a smile on my face.