Disarray the hallowed cr.., p.9
Disarray: The Hallowed Crows MC 4, page 9
Fuck. This is bad. Worse than I thought, and I can barely wrap my mind around it. I can see the worried look on Rebecca’s face as she studies him, and I know they must have already had this conversation when he came home, because she reaches out and silently slips her hand into his. I want to comfort them both but my mind is spinning. Connor was Hustler’s father and he never told us, why? He trusted us, or at least he did before he caught us with his daughter, so why did he never tell us about his son? A son that was part of our club for years and he just kept it to himself.
It’s those thoughts that have a thousand questions burning in my brain, but then it’s another that halts them all. “If Hustler wasn’t the mole, then why was he after you?” My eyes fix back on Rebecca, and I can tell by the look on both their faces that they have already asked themselves that question, but I push on, voicing my thoughts out loud. “He had a gun and came after you, why?”
Rebecca shrugs. “That’s what I can’t work out,” she whispers, her voice hoarse from tears she refuses to let fall. “He said sorry to me when he pulled his gun out, that he didn’t want to do it, but that he had to finish what he started.” Her voice shakes as she recalls their interaction and my mind continues to buzz. “I guess I just presumed he meant Carter, I mean who else could it be,” she trails off mindlessly, squeezing Ezra’s fingers between her own to keep them tethered together in this spiral.
The Mayor already confirmed with his fucked up corpse display of Candice that Hustler wasn’t the mole, and to be honest, now that I think about it, it makes perfect sense for it to be Candice. She used to slip in and out of the clubhouse all the time undetected, and was always so desperate to be close to Aiden, never really pushing herself onto any of the other guys like she did with him. The other whores would gladly be passed around, but not her. No, ever since the month before Rebecca turned eighteen she only had her sights on Aiden. Which now I think about it, that was the same time that Carter became aware of Rebecca.
Connor told us about his run in on the other side of town with Rebecca and the Mayor, and his worry about people finding out who she was. We brushed him off, told him that someone in a position like Carter’s wouldn’t care who his daughter was, but clearly we were wrong. A mistake we all paid for, but it’s clear that Candice always had an agenda, we just mistook her facade of being jealous and wanting Aiden for herself, not that she was a fucking mole.
I shake my head, shifting my focus to Hustler and the shock I felt when Rebecca came running from her father’s garage and told us he was the mole. I never wanted to believe that one of our own could betray us. I’m not ashamed to admit that as much as I was happy Ezra erased him from this earth to stop him from hurting our girl, that there was a sick feeling in my stomach the entire time we buried him. Yet if he didn't betray us because he wasn’t the mole, then what are we missing?
My mind filters back the last few months as I try to piece together how we got here and I try to think if I ever saw Hustler acting strange. He was always quiet, kept to himself, but he seemed happy to be part of the club. He was over the moon when he was officially patched in, so what happened? Was it Connor’s death? Is that what changed him? I mean, if he was his son then of course he must have been wrecked the day Connor was killed, I know I was.
Again I force myself to remember how he acted that day, but all I can remember is the blood and the booze. I was so distraught that day that I drank until I blacked out once we got back to the club. Not exactly practical, but we all deal with shit like that in our own way, and it was the only way I could keep myself from scooping up Rebecca’s broken form into my arms as she cast her eyes down onto her father’s dead body.
Memory after memory assaults me as I try to piece together this fucking puzzle that is falling apart around us until I can barely stand it. I rise to my feet, startling both of them as I say, “We should get some sleep, figure out the rest of this shit tomorrow, it’s late.” I toss the files onto the table and ignore the fact that technically it already is tomorrow, but fuck if I care.
The two of them quietly follow behind me, and when I reach the room she came from earlier, I smile softly at the mussed up sheets. Stripping out of my clothes I slide into the bed and I am assaulted by the scent of both of them as I push myself to the furthest side. Rebecca climbs in after me, followed instantly by Ezra, until the three of us are in a cocoon together.
I know we have a lot of shit going on, and a long road ahead of us to keep us all safe and intact, but right now, I can fall asleep knowing that at least two members of my family are here and safe. It’s with that thought and the feel of their skin on mine that I am lulled into a much needed deep sleep.
Searing heat wraps around my body as I jolt awake from the nightmares that always plague me. I was back there, with him, in his cage, obeying his every rule to protect them. I cast my eyes in the early sunrise across both Ezra and Killian, the two of them naked and plastered against me on both sides. Even in their slumber they reach across me to touch one another, their hands entwined on top of me. Flashes of last night burn through my mind as I recall getting them back. It was relief and passion, secrets purged, and bodies shared. It was fucking wildly, yet filled with so much love that it steals my breath to think about how I now have them.
It’s funny how different the two of them are, or I guess the three of them. The President, the Vice President, and the Enforcer. Three deadly men who create carnage and chaos, who burn bridges and slay monsters, both better and worse than themselves, and all three of them belong completely and utterly to me. I try to ignore the stab of pain I feel in my chest as I think about the third person missing from this bed with me. Aiden wouldn’t want my pity or my regret, he’d probably punish me for it, and I would pretend that I didn’t need it, that I didn’t enjoy it. Somewhere between my stupid teenage crush, and demise into Carter’s world, they managed to dig their way under my skin until they knew me better than anyone else.
It’s what got us here, my desire for them, his desire for me. You could argue that the Mayor made the same mistake I did, that he became enthralled by something he couldn’t have, which just made him want to take it all the more. And take it he did. He took a piece of me, every day for two years he took until there was nothing else to give, and then he still took some more. The only thing keeping me held together now are my Crows, yet how can they do that if they aren’t all here? I might be free, but Carter is still winning, and that’s a fate I was never prepared for.
I’m no stranger to falling apart, to clinging to the little things in an attempt to keep me sane. I would do it daily in my cage, but still feeling so trapped when I have my freedom is something I will never get used to. It doesn’t matter what I do, Carter is always one step ahead of us, in a game which I have never been able to learn the rules of, and the chaos of it makes me miss the solace of my cage. The number of bars never changed, the dirt on the floor always felt the same, and the bitter cold eventually became comforting to me.
Suddenly the warmth of the guys’ heat turns to suffocation and I can no longer stand it. I shuffle down the bed in between them until I am free of their tangled limbs, and move to grab the bag that Angel brought for us. I rifle through it until I find a clean outfit, and then I quietly sneak into the bathroom to freshen up. With my mind consumed by him, the ritual of my shower feels as if Carter is sitting right there in the corner watching me. My thoughts so clouded with anticipation and fear of what is going to happen next, that I go through the motions ingrained in me until I am fresh and clean.
When I step out, I don’t bother cleaning the steam from the mirror, I don’t want to look at my reflection and see the broken girl staring back at me. The girl who is responsible for all this mess, for getting taken by Carter, for getting her father killed, for getting her brother killed. Those thoughts make my throat tighten as I try to choke back a breath, my hands flying to my neck, clutching at it desperately as if I can force the air out myself. I drop to my knees as if I am heeding to his command, and then I close my eyes and pray it all goes away.
“I’m free, I’m free, I’m free, I’m free,” I chant in a whisper, over and over until I barely hear them. Until my body is reminded that while my mind is still owned by him, that I did manage to escape.
By the time my heart rate settles and my breathing returns to normal, I am curled up in a ball on the floor of the bathroom. I don’t move, not right away. Instead, I flatten my palm to the cold floor tiles and let the goosebumps scatter across my entire body until I am near trembling. It’s something I used to do back at the mansion, when I had done something that didn’t please him, and when he had beaten me for the audacity. It would remind me that the body can feel things other than pain, than fear. That simple trick would allow me to wrap myself up in something new until the blood had clotted and the tears had dried. Then I would rise to my feet and be ready for more.
So that’s what I do now. I let the cold numb me until my breaths are even, and then I rise on shaky legs until my head is held up high. Then I wipe off the mirror, ignoring the dark circles in my eyes, as I scrape my hair back into a sleek ponytail and check over my outfit. Then I nod and slip quietly back out into the bedroom, eyes trailing over my Crows still-sleeping form, before I reach for some of the weapons I stashed last night and load them onto my body. A blade around my thigh, a gun in the back of my waistband, and some knuckles dusters on my fist, channeling all of my inner Elle King energy, until I feel strong enough to steel my spine and walk out.
I head to the kitchen first, searching around as silent as I can be until I find what I am looking for. I make myself a large black coffee, and inhale a couple of granola bars until the quivering in my hands eventually stops and I feel okay enough to do what I need to do next. I finish my coffee by the large floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city, taking in the stillness of it all until there really is nothing else I can do. Then I put my mug into the sink and head over to the front door, unlocking it and swinging it open, unsurprised to find two guards standing by it.
Even expecting their presence I startle a little, causing them both to smirk as they look me over from head to toe. I don’t recognize either of them, not that I expected I would, but I know they wouldn’t be here if they weren’t trusted by Blade, and more importantly, Angel.
“Good Morning,” I greet them, flicking my stare between the two. “I’m Rebecca O’Sullivan.”
One of them grunts a laugh as the other spits, “We know who you are, Princess.” The term of endearment sounds nothing like how Aiden says it to me and I harden my eyes at them.
“The polite thing to do would be to introduce yourself back,” I snap, anger curling around my tone as I stare them down.
This time it’s the other one who answers as he elbows his comrade playfully. “We’ve been called plenty of things by women before, polite wasn’t one of them.” His grin is both playful and scary, as his gaze once again drags across my skin until I feel naked.
“Shocker,” I grit through my teeth, crossing my arms beneath my chest. “Where is Angel?” I know he is staying here too, I was there when he asked Blade for an apartment, but this building has twenty floors, and lord knows how many apartments. I don’t feel like knocking on every one to find him.
The two of them remain silent, those insufferable smirks still staining both of their faces as they act like they don’t know who I am talking about. It’s only then I realize their game as I sigh in frustration before changing my question slightly. “Where is Ghost?” I ask, remembering the name that was used to greet my best friend when we arrived yesterday, and I can tell by the smile on both of their faces that they find my questions amusing.
“Becca,” Angel calls out, and I snap my head to the right as I see him storming from the apartment at the other end of the hallway, his eyes fixed on the men in front of me. “Rhory, Nic, get the fuck away from her!” He sounds furious and I blink back a little at the authority in his tone.
“We were just saying hello to the pretty new girl,” either Rhory or Nic says with a smile, leering at me once more. “She’s hot and armed,” he adds with a groan as Angel reaches his side.
“And she has three fucking men who will murder you where you stand for even looking at her!” He positions himself between the three of us, making the men in front of me smile even wider as if they just won something.
“Seems like four if you ask me,” the other guy adds, staring Angel down with a feral grin, and I feel heat start to burn up my neck which only gets worse. He flicks his eyes back to me as he continues, “Sounds like you had a lot of fun inside there last night.” He nods his head to the apartment I came from, his words are paired with a bite of his lip, as my cheeks burn even brighter.
I see the tension snap into Angel’s shoulders as he warns, “Watch yourself, Nicoli.” Three words that sound too close to a threat that I know we don’t have time for.
I push Angel aside slightly and hold my head up high. “A lot more fun than you did standing out here playing guard dog.” It doesn’t take a genius to know that Blade is the one in charge and everyone else just works here, and given they were sent to watch my door, Angel must have some kind of pull with him.
The guy, Nicoli, just smiles though. “I hope your bite is as strong as your bark.” His words don’t sound like a warning, more like a comforting assessment, but given my history with powerful men, I don’t back down.
“Ask the three men that belong to me,” is all I respond, before turning to Angel and nudging him towards his apartment. His eyes stay glued on the men taunting us, until he slowly starts to step back. I link my arm through his, like I have done a hundred times before, and I guide us back the way he came.
Once we reach his door, he opens it to allow me inside, before shooting one last look of warning to Rhory and Nic, who are still both smiling like idiots, and then he slams the door behind us. His apartment is a mirror image of the one I am staying in which doesn’t surprise me, and instead of sitting down, I find myself wandering over to the floor to ceiling windows once again.
Angel joins me silently, both of us taking in the city below us as people start to wake up and prepare for their day ahead. I picture their lives, getting up, having breakfast, dropping their kids off at school, and heading off for work. Maybe they stop for coffee, or grab some donuts for the office. Maybe they go to the gym, or treat themselves to a manicure. Just a regular day in their life filled with little mundane things, and I envy every single one of them.
“Do you remember when we were kids and we used to say we would be best friends forever?” Angel asks, his voice far away as if he is back there in his memories. Tears sting the back of my eyes and my throat starts burning as I nod silently beside him. “I thought nothing would ever come between us,” he adds, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Not once did I ever imagine the thing that would come between us would be me.”
I turn to look at him fully, moisture gathering in my eyes as my heart breaks for him. I wish I could love him how he loves me, and could give him what I have given to the guys, but it wouldn’t be real. Angel is easy to love. He’s handsome, funny, smart, playful, but my heart wasn’t made for easy. It was made for hard and brutal, rough and unsteady. It was made for three men who tore me apart only to slowly put me back together. Falling in love with him would only ruin us both, and our friendship, and until he can realize that, I will do whatever he needs me to in order for him to survive.
“If you need me to leave, just say the word and I’ll go.” The words taste thick on my tongue, and I fucking hate feeling so far away from my best friend, but I want him to be happy, his heart to be whole. I need him right now, more than I have ever needed him before, but I won’t ask him to stand by my side, not unless he wants to.
“So much has happened between us over the years, things that I never imagined. Things I never wanted to imagine, and things I didn’t think I could ever survive, but here we are, still standing, bullet wounds and all.” His focus remains on the city below but I know he doesn’t see it. No, the only thing he sees right now is our past, and the future we will never have. Pain tears me apart from the inside out and I ready myself to walk away from him as silence stretches between us until he finally adds, “I don’t want you to go.”
He turns to face me, the tired circles under his eyes standing out against his dark skin, making my heart ache even more. “I didn’t sleep last night because all I could think about was how I’d let my best friend down.” I open my mouth to refute his statement but he holds his hand up to cut me off. “Let me finish. I promised you a thousand times that we would be best friends forever, and what, just because I feel more than that, I am going to break my promise?” His words are said as a question, but I know he isn’t looking for an answer, so instead I stay silent. “Becca, you and I have a whole lot of history, and things are hard right now, but I don’t want to throw away what I know will be a lifetime of great friendship, just because you love them.”
“I don’t want that either,” I rush out. “You’re my best friend, Angel, always have been, and I will always need you by my side.” He nods to my words as if they settle something in his soul before he sighs and pulls me into his arms.
“I love you, Becca.” His words are whispered into my hair, and I don’t bother trying to work out whether he means them as his friend or more, because it doesn’t matter, not anymore. He can’t take back what he said, but we can both choose to put our friendship first, and that’s what matters.
