He’s right. After all the killing, the betrayals, the things I did to claw my way to the top… to finally have the gavel in my grasp, only to be ended by a single, well-placed bullet? It’s not a death. It’s an insult.
I try to speak, to tell him to ease the pressure, to go after them, but all that comes is a bloody, pathetic rasp. The edges of my vision fade into shadow, narrowing my world to the pain in my chest and the frantic gaze of Ripper’s eyes.
“Judge!” His voice is distorted, fading. “Fuck, Samuel!”
* * *
Eyes snapping open, a pained sound leaves my lips. Like the wound is still fresh, I grasp at my chest. Expecting a pool of blood, I feel worn, scarred skin under my fingertips instead. My skin is damp from sweat, another nightmare feeling too real.
A cold sweat trickles above my brow as my heart goes rogue in my chest. Looking around, I have to familiarize myself with my surroundings.
What’s it been, a week since I started staying at the clubhouse? Sticking close to my second home to protect it. Evenafter all of these days, the room feels unfamiliar. Every night, that memory has haunted me.
Steadying my breathing, the mattress beneath me groans as I throw my legs over the edge. Wiping a hand down my face, I can’t stop the curse from leaving my lips.
I’m supposed to be the one holding this club together, not panicking in secrecy over a man I cut ties with over eight years ago.
Blaze fucking Walker.
Gritting my teeth, I force myself to my feet and snag my jacket along with something that isn’t soaked with sweat. I need a shower. What time is it?
The color of the sky tells me it’s barely dawn. The party last night must’ve wrapped up only a couple of hours ago.
I’m glad everyone is ignorant of the weight behind the threat rising on the horizon.
Scratching my bearded cheek and letting out a yawn, I glance at the bed one last time, rarely considering trying to return to it. If it weren’t so cold and empty, it would be more welcoming.
Grunting at the thought of anyone else possibly occupying it, I leave the room, ready to start the day.
Hitting up the showers, there’s no sign of any life. No steam clinging to the air or droplets of water against the walls. It’s better this way. I’m a man who enjoys his solitude.
Moving toward one of the stalls, I catch my reflection in the mirror in passing. Dark shadows cling beneath my eyes, all the proof I need that I’m being haunted by my past.
Tearing my eyes away, I make a note to avoid mirrors in the future. At this rate, I’m going to be a walking horror show. That’s the last thing I need.
A shower doesn’t help me, so I go with the next best thing. Once I’m changed, I’m heading toward the most popular area ofthe clubhouse. Despite how full it is during the later hours, the morning feels like the polar opposite.
Entering the bar area, I am greeted by an almost silent welcome. There’s the soft sound of a broom and the scrape of glass shards against the concrete floor.
I’m surprised to see Penelope already up and going, especially when she was helping out the night before, but I can’t betoosurprised. Not when I’m up and running too.
She lifts her gaze when she hears my steps. Pausing her sweeping, she straightens up, and a smile automatically frames her face. Always like this, she perks up with the sun. At this hour, it’s a soft curve resting on her lips that’s far too tempting not to trace.
“You should be sleeping,” I mutter the words and urge my legs to move, trying not to remain frozen here, staring at her, but I end up stuck for too long.
Brushing a few loose black hairs that have fallen behind her ponytail behind her ear, she leans against her broom. “Couldn’t stay settled for long.”
Tearing my eyes away from her, I make my way over to the bar. As if she feels the need to keep me from feeling alone, she finishes cleaning up someone’s mess before drifting toward me.
There’s no denying the way she grimaces when I immediately go for a beer by leaning over the bar. Cracking it open, I don’t miss her soft sigh, either.
“A little early for one, isn’t it?” She watches as I take one sip, sighing under her breath. Drifting toward me, her concern dances around her eyes. “Are you alright?”
No. “I’m fine. Just as I was the last time you asked.” Keeping my voice firm, I don’t mean to be rough, but with this woman in particular, I can’t help it.
A few people put me on a pedestal because of my past decisions. Ripper and Stacks are from the birth of my reign, sothey make sense. Raven and Penelope are a special case. They give me some kind of savior complex I want nothing to do with.
She purses her lips, but she doesn’t push. She never does. I’ve hurt her feelings more times this week than I ever did since I first saw her.
