The pitter-patter of my heart turns to full swoon, as I gaze up and find peace within his irises that I’ve never felt before.
“Hop in, Poppy.”
I waiver for half a second, the darkness inside the vehicle calling on memories I’ve worked so hard to suppress. It isn’t until he gently takes my hand that I finally get the courage to move forward and follow him into the limo.
Several Months Later
I didn’t realize how deeply connected Arturo was to everyone until it was too late. After several months of pure bliss, his true colors finally came out, and by that time, I was already tied to him, and things were out of my control.
If I had known earlier on just how close to Moseley he truly was, I wouldn’t have agreed to be his girl. Not only did Moseley recruit Arturo from a rival MC club based out of Reno,and purposely put him in the Misfits as a mole, but through stealthy reconnaissance of my own, I found out that he plans on excommunicating Warden as Prez of the Raging Misfits and placing Arturo in his place.
I didn’t want that to happen. Though my reasons are selfish as fuck. Warden feeds my habit… he does it discreetly and without Arturo knowing, which I’m thankful for. But today I slipped up and left the needle where he could see it. Now he’s fucking pissed.
“Are you fucking serious, Poppy?” he rages, throwing the needle at my feet. “You promised me you would stop.”
Guilt overwhelms me as I stare at the tiny vial of comfort, its lingering side effects already taking hold.
“It’s not that easy,” I shout, though my voice comes out more lackadaisical than I would like. My tone gives off the impression that I don’t give two fucks what he wants, and that couldn’t be farther from the truth, but when there are people in the shadows feeding your habit, it’s hard to say no to your addictions.
“Who gave it to you?” he demands, and the way his voice carries tells me that lying will only make things worse.
“Does it really matter?”
His glare slices through me, almost as if he’s holding a knife to my wrists. “Yes,” he growls, his arms folding angrily across his chest. “We can’t get you better if you’re constantly high.”
Nodding, I gently whisper. “Warden,” before looking at my feet.
“I fucking knew it! That motherfucking asshole needs to be dethroned.”
“You can’t just take his place,” I challenge, knowing it’s probably a mistake.
There’s a strange darkness in the way his mouth curls with disapproval. It’s a side of him he normally doesn’t show. “That’s where you’re wrong,bitch.” That single word unravels me.
Where’s the loving man set on saving me?
The stench of alcohol permeates his breath as he encroaches on the space between us, a mixture of off-putting bourbon and stale beer.
“Oh, we’re name calling now, are we?” My voice seems weak and small in comparison to the rage in his eyes.
His hand moves with such precision, wrapping around my throat, squeezing it with enough force to be punishing and cruel.
“I’ll call you whatever the fuck I want,” he growls, the alcohol talking for him. “I claimed you. You’re like a pet to me, nothing more. I dragged you out of the gutter, gave you a title, made you something, and this is how you repay me for my kindness? You continue to feed your veins with that goddamn poison, insult me to my face, and question my authority.”
Straining to speak, I manage to get out a tiny, “I’m sorry,” as I struggle to take a breath.
His grip only gets tighter.
“You have no idea how sorry you’ll be should you cross me again.”
Threat received, heard, and noted.
Before he can take this a step further, a loud, horrifying bang has him pulling away from me.
“We’ll discuss this more later.”
He rushes out of the room, the door opening to people screaming and yelling from the common area.
“What the fuck is going on?” Arturo bellows just as I come around the corner to see one of the prospects lying on the floor, blood pouring out of a single gunshot wound to the head.
