Page 73 of Praying for Thunder

I went back to staring at the door.

Shoving a backward cap over his thick hair, Roamer went to the door. “I’m starving.”

Both young men left the room, only to stop when noticing I hadn’t followed. I stood in the room, staring at them. I was young, and so were they, but I swear they could hear my thoughts.

Chubs gave a curt nod then lightly backhanded Roamer’s elbow. Quietly, he said, “How about ya make him a plate. Bring it back in here.”

My shoulders crumbled in relief. Leaving the room and seeing the man that terrified me had me rather starving to death.

Disappointment in Roamer’s eyes, he conceded and went down the hall to the kitchen. He had told me to not show weakness… I had already failed.

“Wait.” I took a deep breath… then stepped out of the room.

We didn’t even make it all the way down the hallway before I heard, “Is something burning?” By the time we made it into the Mess Hall, all eyes fell on me.

I swallowed.

I felt like a tiny mouse trapped in a room of the biggest and hungriest hyenas. And one spotted me. Piercer’s right eye twitched. “What is he doing here?”

Dad was sitting at the head of the table, already eating. “By his father’s side. Questions?”

Other men at the table were listening but trying to keep their eyes on their plates.

They failed when Piercer charged, grabbing the front of my smoke and soot-stained shirt, lifting and shoving my back into the wall outside a near bedroom. “I said, what are you doing here?”

Hanging above him, I answered, “I-I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Piercer,” warned Dad as he reloaded his fork.

His nostrils flared at me while he asked his brother, “What happened?”

Chewing on food, Onus reached down and pulled on a chain connected to his belt loop.

Dio…

“There was a fire.” Retrieving a wad of cash from his wallet, he motioned for a young woman to come to him. She left a couch and followed his directions. “Get my boy some clothes.”

Not sure if she was making a mistake, she slowly approached me. She coughed. “Umm, what size are you, honey?”

Still hanging in the air, I cautiously answered, “I don’t know.”

Nervously sucking on her upper lip, she asked Piercer, “Can I read the tag in his shirt?”

I was dropped to the ground.

Piercer turned toward the table. “Our mother?”

Onus took a sip of coffee. “No more.”

Piercer fell back, not stopping until he crashed into the refrigerator, his eyes full of shock. Then, they fell to me, filling with rage. “What did you do?” he bellowed as he charged me.

I hadn’t done a damn thing but never had the chance to say that, as a biker boot rammed into my gut, knocking air from my lungs.

The girl whimpered and closed her eyes but didn’t dare interfere until Dad roared, “Piercer!” now standing. “Enough!”

Leaving me where I lay, Piercer walked to the table and took a seat to his brother’s left. A full plate was set in front of him by another club girl.

The one with money in her hand knelt next to me. Her hand shook as she helped me sit up to lean against the wall. My ribs ached in protest. Her voice shook, but she tried really hard to sound nonchalant. “Is there anything I can get you? Besides clothes?”