“As in New Hampshire? Why?”
Phoe frowned and exchanged a worried look with a couple of the strangers. “You don’t remember?”
“No. Phoe, what the fuck is happening?” I growled out and sat up from where I lay on a table. A woman stared at me expressionlessly. “Royal Harlots MC? I’ve permission to be here?” I demanded aware of the courtesy of being in another MC’s territory.
“Yes, you have. What’s the last thing you recall?” a woman asked, stepping forward. “I’m Sapphire, the president.”
“Yo. And I don’t know. Everything seems a blur, almost foggy,” I replied. I searched my mind for my last clear recollection, and there was nothing. It felt like I was detached from my life. It didn’t make sense. The concern on Phoe’s face was worrying;why was she so scared? I began to get slightly alarmed; something had happened, and I’d no idea what.
“Someone start talking, tell me what the fuck is going on,” I demanded, and Phoe burst into tears.
“That’s my real husband!” she exclaimed as a woman placed a hand on Phoe’s shoulder.
“What the hell, Phoe?”
“You’ve been depressed, moody, and avoided the club and your brothers. You won’t spend time with the kids or me, and basically, Drake, you’re suicidal!” Phoe sobbed.
I scoffed.Suicidal, my ass.
“You’ve been like that for the last few months, since the war,” Phoe continued…
I flinched as I felt it. The moment Phoe said the word war, I began slipping. Guilt swamped me, followed by a grief I’d no right to experience. I saw Inglorious as sorrow nearly broke him. A decent man who should have his club brothers standing by him and not in the ground. That was my fault. I’d put them there. The Allies had lost members because I was too selfish to hand over president.
I felt the tears as Inglorious stood at each funeral, wounded and dignified as he buried those he called brother. Why were mine alive when his weren’t? I should be the one who’d died. Too many decent men were pushing up the daisies while I walked the earth still. I had to be devil’s spawn because he certainly blessed me.
“Damn, Judas is good,” Belladonna muttered, and I didn’t even bother looking at her. What was she to me? Another victim waiting in the background. I had to get out of here before my cursed luck came down on her and brought her low. The Royal Harlots MC didn’t deserve to lose people like everyone else had.
“Belladonna?” Phoe asked.
“Drake’s sunk completely into a different mindset. The word ‘war’ triggered him,” she explained.
Triggered me? I was beyond that. The truth was, I deserved death. Walking in front of a car or drowning in the sea would do it. But, I argued, I should suffer. Why should I get a peaceful end when thousands hadn’t?
A sharp pain made me flinch; my mind cleared, and I gazed into the concerned eyes of Phoe.
“Houston, we have a problem,” Belladonna whispered as she held my gaze. There was worry in her voice, which scared me because I’d no idea what she was so anxious about.
Chapter Three.
Phoe
“Did you just flick Drake?” I asked, amused.
“Yeah. He was spiralling right in front of us. The moment you mentioned ‘war’, Drake went down a rabbit hole. It’s conditioning.”
Drake looked confused. “Explain.”
“Hold on, who is Judas?” Phoe demanded.
“The person attacking Drake. Give him a name and fear fades,” Sapphire stated.
“Naming your bogeyman.” Drake nodded in understanding.
“’kay. This may be hard to understand, but psychic abilities exist…” Belladonna began.
Drake waved a hand. “I know that from Aurora-Victoria. What’s that to do with me?”
“You pissed someone off with powers,” Stitch stated.
