She was barely holding on,only waiting for me before taking her last breath. I pulled her into my arms, her weak gasps breaking my heart as I clutched her and Charlee tight. Our little girl was already gone, but Olivia was still fighting.
The asshole finally did it—he broke me. I pulled back, caressing Olivia’s blood covered face. Her skin was soft under my touch, and her eyes fluttered open.
She was dying, and I couldn’t save her.
I promised her she would always be safe, but I failed. I failed them both.
“Don’t turn into him.” Her eyes were filled with pain and agony. This should be me. I should be the one dying. I was the monster. She was the beauty in this world. Her and Charlee should live a full, happy life without me. Life without them sounded like misery. I couldn’t do this without both of them. They were my reason.
Her breathing quickly became ragged. “I-I lo-love y-you.”
There was a numbing sensation throughout my body when she finally went limp in my arms. I pulled her tighter to me. He would bleed. I would make him pay for everything he’d taken away from me.
I shook awaythe memory as I walked into the club with my helmet still on. I swear my girls faltered a little, seeing me walk in dressed in leather as I made a beeline for my office. They alltried to flirt, but it was pointless. I could admire their beauty, sure, but I refused to touch them. One, because I didn’t mix business and pleasure. Two, the only person I desired was buried along with our daughter.
Jax was at the bar getting everything ready for tonight. He smiled at me, pouring a glass of whiskey while I took my helmet off and set it on the bar top. Jax was a man of many talents, but bartending was his calling. He poured himself a shot, and I cheered with him before taking mine.
“Damn, boss. You got hair on your chest?”
I laughed, flipping the glass upside down. “I got demons in my head,” I corrected him. “I’ll be back shortly for more.”
I left him at the bar and made my way upstairs to my office with my helmet now in hand, dropping it onto the couch as I entered. I grabbed the whiskey decanter at my door and my favorite engraved cup before walking to my desk. Maybe drinking early wasn’t a good idea, but it was the only thing that kept me afloat. I swished the amber liquid in the glass as I brought it to my lips. It was gone in two seconds.
The bottle was halfway gone before I finally put the glass down. I knew I was walking into an early grave and my liver was obliterated, but I accepted it for what it was. Maybe one day my body would finally give up, and I’d greet death with open arms, reuniting with my girls in the afterlife. But even death itself decided to punish me even longer.
CHAPTER 4
CADEN
Iwas in misery, but it was fine. Life was one godforsaken day after another, but I would continue on. When I arrived in Westhaven two weeks ago, I found a shitty little motel on the edge of town close to the pier. It was cheap, which meant it wasn’t that great, but it was a place for me to lay my head at night and take care of my wound. It wasn’t doing that well, but I had no money for urgent care, and going to the hospital was too risky. I found a job at a diner so I would be able to save up for urgent care without my room for my health.
My paranoia was skyrocketing along with my anxiety, the two mingling together like best friends while I was left panicking and terrified. I needed my brain to get a grip on reality and focus on how serious the situation was. I worked tomorrow, and I was going to pull a double to make enough to afford a trip to urgent care. The drug store supplies I had didn’t help, or maybe working instead of resting was a bad idea. It was hard to rest when I needed to survive. Maybe in another life I could live cushy and take a rest day, but sadly, that was not the life I was granted.
I pulled an old hoodie over my head and walked out of my room. There was a new city waiting for me, but I wasn’t in goodstanding to mingle with the town folk right now. Instead, I opted for the pier. Which was odd, because I hated water. How could something so beautiful be deadly?
Water stole my brother’s life and destroyed my family, yet I found comfort in the gentle waves. It was a screaming contradiction. I wouldn’t go to the beach or swim, but I would dip my feet and listen to the tranquil crash of the waves until my mind betrayed me.
I walked to the pier, enjoying the fresh air that filled my lungs. It was beautiful out here. Westhaven was nothing compared to New York for obvious reasons, but it wasn’t loud like the city was, which proved to be difficult. In the city, I would be able to drown out the screaming in my head with the bustle of downtown, but here, alone, I was trapped, forced to embrace them.
Getting to the pier, I removed my socks and shoes, dipping my feet into the water. There was peace, even if it was just for a moment. I’d do this when I was off from Roadhouse, which wasn’t often. I only had three days off in the two weeks I’d been here, but it was my choice. I needed money, and there was no rest for the weary.
Since then, I had been paralyzed with nightmares that woke me from a dead sleep in a cold sweat. I’d been jumpy and paranoid. Personally, I was surprised I could handle my job with all the men around, but so far, none of them have touched me. They were horrible flirts, even seemed harmless, but I wouldn’t trust them.
I’ve been a champ at putting on a mask and hiding my emotions. Even when I was cutting myself in middle school, I would pretend everything was okay when the teachers would ask or when someone would see my wrist. After my math teacher saw a cut peeking through my hoodie, she sent me to the counselor. I lied, saying I cut myself on accident when playingwith my dad’s razor because I was insecure about my dark arm hair. She believed me, and I decided to move my cutting to my thighs. When I started using sex as a coping mechanism at fourteen, I stopped cutting. The temptation right now was high. To feel something other than the screaming in my head was like a raging fire in my belly, but I’d be strong, even if my mental health was absolute garbage.
When things got easier, and I saved up enough money, I was going to do the responsible thing and go to therapy—spill my guts to a complete stranger and not use sex to deflect. I had a chance at a new life, a new beginning, and the first thing I needed to focus on was my mental health. Keeping everything bottled up inside was a recipe for disaster. Everyone healed differently, just like everyone handled their trauma differently. My life had been a giant ball of trauma after my brother drowned and my mother abandoned my father and me. This was just the cherry on fucking top.
I pulled out my new phone and opened Chrome. I knew my father couldn’t find me because I ditched my old iPhone in Jersey. Paranoia was my best friend with the constant fear that my father or the Born Killerz would find me. I probably had a better chance against an entire gang than my father. He would make my life even more of a living hell if he found me and punished me for running. Knowing him, he’d arrest me for obstruction or evading the police.
I typed my name into the browser, but the only things I found were articles about my death. It looked like he didn’t tell anyone else I was indeed alive and feigning well.He was happily sucking up the attention of acting as the grieving father passionately searching for justice for his daughter. Dominic wasn’t in custody, which meant he could find me too. That definitely didn’t help calm the panic in my chest. I couldn’t bear to experience any more pain or agony.
There weren’t any reports on the Born Killerz, which meant nothing to me. They lost their leader, and I knew they wanted revenge. Maybe they would find my father and it would end all my problems. A pang of guilt washed through me.Was it horrible of me to wish for my father’s death when he saved me?One night didn’t make up for a lifetime of neglect and abuse.
When the sun started to set, I pulled my feet from the water and kicked them dry. I already took risks walking home late at night from my job. Since my assault, I’d been hesitant a lot. I hated walking alone at night, but there wasn’t much choice. I would be back before the sun set tonight, but work was different. Roadhouse wasn’t far from the motel, maybe a ten minute walk, but a lot could happen in ten minutes.
After what Liam and Dominic did to me, I was on high alert, jumping at every little noise and flinching when a man raised his voice slightly. Why I decided to work at this shithole instead of venturing out, I didn’t know, but Ricky hired me instantly. I did however have to beg the greasy man, and I was sure he enjoyed it way too much, but I needed the money before the hotel manager kicked me out. I needed food and medical supplies too. I had enough medical experience to know what would happen if I got a blood infection. No one knew I was here, so if I died in that hotel room, the manager wouldn’t look for me until it was time for another weekly payment.
My stomach screamed in agony as I walked down the street. I was not healing as gracefully as I needed to, but to survive, I needed money. And to get money, I had to work. My father’s voice lived rent free in my head. Little did he know he was the reason for all of this.
