Knight (82 page)

If nothing else, I’d protect her from that.

“Time to go,” I said. “How’s the shoulder?”

Brew would have shrugged if he hadn’t dug the metal bullet out of his chest. “Hurts.”

“Can you ride?”

“Yeah.” Brew swore as he stood. The blood-soaked bandages proved him a liar and a son of a bitch, but at least he wanted to die with dignity. “But then you have to get my bike to Rose. Don’t put her through that. Take the truck.”

I nodded. Not like I had to say anything. Brew led me through Pixie. He didn’t ask to say goodbye, but he hesitated before hauling himself into the pickup truck.

“Just tell her I’m sorry.” He rubbed his face and aged five years. The older he got, the more he looked like his father. Flecks of gray in his hair, but still too young to die. “If I had known…”

“Me too.”

He swore as he got in the truck. The bandages soaked through with fresh crimson. His face shocked with white. I doubted we would even make it out of the city. I squeezed the keys in my fist.

“You gonna take care of her?” Brew stared ahead. “Keep can’t even look after himself. She needs to go to school. Make something of herself. You gonna do that for her?”

“If she lets me.”

“You love her?”

I snorted. The little siren opened her mouth and blessed me with the music of heaven. She trusted me. She wanted me. She needed me.

What wasn’t there to love?

I was a monster, but I knew when I ruined a good thing. I only hoped I hadn’t ruined her.

“Yeah. I love her.”

Brew nodded. Nothing else needed to be said. The silence judged us enough.

Even the sun refused to rise and fuck with us. Anathema didn’t operate well in broad daylight. This type of vengeance belonged in the dark, where the betrayal began.

But even Exorcist’s death didn’t bring me the satisfaction I craved, the respect I deserved, or the restitution I demanded.

I didn’t kill Exorcist in victory. I didn’t end his miserable existence as punishment for the hell he caused, the wars he started, the lives he took, or the club he fractured.

I killed him before he hurt Rose.

I rode to the bridge on pure instinct. No images of blood or glory in my mind. No brandished, idealistic thoughts of finishing the rest of my revenge in hell. The adrenaline didn’t boil my blood and harden my cock and have me beating my chest in victory like a conquering warrior.

I pulled the trigger because I was fucking
terrified
.

Sweaty palms, racing heart, heaving stomach, mother-
fucking
-terrified.

I did what I had to do, but my pulse still hadn’t returned to normal.

Part of me feared I left Rose on the bridge, broken and tiny.

I clutched the steering wheel to prevent my shaking. Until I laid beside her, until I heard her voice, until I saw her breathing and verified her injuries were stitched, I would live with terror eating at my guts.

If I waited longer, the fear would erode everything but my heart.

That’d break as soon as I killed Brew and she cast me from her life.

I had a choice to make. Decisions beyond life or death.

Rose or Anathema. Innocence or honor. Loyalty or betrayal.

Driving a man to his grave gave me a lot of time to think. And I didn’t like what I thought about. Vengeance conquered most thoughts. It was the purest form of expression. Insults were answered, wrongs were righted, respect was earned. But what happened after?

What happened when revenge corrupted, and blood was required to prevent looking like a coward?

We drove out of the city and into the cornfields beyond the county line. I pulled off a dirt road and passed on to private, corporate farmland. The rural land belonged to friends of the club—fucking billionaire farmers who earned a bit of rent in exchange for letting Anathema set up in the far west corner of their property.

I parked the truck. Brew moved first.

He didn’t hesitate, only needed to grip the door of the truck so he didn’t collapse in the dirt.

I wasn’t murdering a traitor. I was butchering a cripple.

I followed. Slowly. The deserted field was no place to end the life of a man who’d been a longtime friend, brother, and, despite his failings, respected member of Anathema.

Rocks would mark his grave, dirt would absorb the blood, and, in time, only crumbling bones would even designate the location where sick justice was served.

Rose wouldn’t even get to say goodbye.

Or maybe she would.

Brew was the one who swore. Kicked a rock. Slammed a fist against the truck then shouted as his wound tore open.

The bike roared over the dirt road, and both riders were jostled from the abrupt stop before the truck. Keep tossed his helmet away. I couldn’t watch as Rose limped into the arms of her brother and cried.

“She took your bike.” Keep apologized to Brew. “I hopped on before she killed herself.”

“Jesus Christ.” Brew hugged her tight. “What did I tell you about stealing fucking bikes?”

Wasn’t it enough that I had to be the villain?

That it was my responsibility to put Brew down for his betrayal?

That his little sister happened to be the woman I loved?

Why did the diva come to witness this? No baby bunny eyes or pink fuzzy pajama bottoms could prevent what needed to be done. What
had
to be done.

Even Keep understood. He pulled Rose away, but she fought him off, gasping as he accidentally gripped her cast. He flinched away from her with an apology. That was all the opening she needed.

She rushed at me. I wondered if she’d hit me, hug me, or just break down and sob.

She did it all.

Her fists pounded my chest while she nuzzled against me. She cried, fresh tears spilling over her cheeks, staining her freckles, destroying everything inside me.

When she passed out unconscious in my arms on the bridge, bleeding and gasping for air and hysterical, I thought that would be the end of me. My heart broke, and so did everything else. If she had stopped breathing, I would’ve given her my air. If her heart ceased beating, I would’ve ripped mine from my chest, just how I promised to end the traitor destroying Anathema.

Now who was the traitor?

Now who was the one breaking hearts and destroying everything that was the club, the brotherhood, and our life?

“Please,” she whispered. For as seductive as it was in bed, I never wanted to see her begging for anything. “You
can’t
. He thought he could help. He would’ve helped.”

I didn’t answer. Brew spoke for me.

“Rose, it’s done,” he said. “I understood this was a possibility. You can’t be here, Bud. Keep, take her home.”

“No!” Her fingers dug into my cut. The president patch curled under her hands. I wish she’d rip the damn thing off. “Please. He’s my brother. I can’t be without him.”

“You don’t need me. Not like I ever did anything good for you.” Brew closed his eyes. “32-11-12. That’s the combination to the safe in my room.”

“Stop it!” Rose spun to face him. She didn’t leave me though. She pressed against my chest. “I don’t care what the combination is.”

“I don’t have much, but I have enough to get you through one, maybe two years of school.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Well, don’t give it to Keep. He’ll waste it on drugs and women.”

“Fuck you too.” Keep shrugged, though his bloodshot eyes revealed he probably didn’t feel the insult. “I came out here to fucking say goodbye, jackass.”

“Don’t get yourself killed,” Brew said.

“Speak for yourself.”

“Stop it!  All of you!” Rose tangled her hands in her hair. “This can’t be happening. Thorne, I will do anything you ask.
Anything
. Please, forgive him. The club will understand. We will make them understand.”

I didn’t know where I gathered the courage to even talk to her. “We have rules.”

“Change them.”

“It’s in our code, our chapter laws.”

“You don’t follow laws. You’re fucking
anarchists
!”

“What do you want from me? You think I
want
to do this?”

The words spat out, rough, terrible, and frightening to someone like her.

She flinched away. My opportunity. Only a coward would try to pretend, try to comfort, and try to think of a way and a time that she could forgive me.

I had to start thinking of her as the bullet to dig out instead of the gun aimed at my head.

“Your brother betrayed Anathema. Anathema kills those who threaten the club. He has to die.”

“What about me? I got the money. I stole the drugs. Kill me too.”

“You’re not a member.”

“Then what am I?”

I stared her down. “A complication. The security detail that got out of hand.” I pointed at Brew. “Say your goodbye. Get on the bike. Go back to Pixie.”

“If you do this, I won’t be at Pixie.”

“Where will you be? The police station?” I clenched my jaw. “You won’t talk.”

Keep took her hand. She pushed him away. Her step backwards tangled in the grass and weeds. She stumbled, and I caught her before she fell. Saved her again, only to damn her to the rest of the miserable world and the life that destroyed both of us.

“Why are you doing this?” She whispered. “Don’t I mean anything to you?”

Honesty was more dangerous than my loaded gun. “You mean
everything
to me. After this is done, you’re all I’m gonna have left.”

“If he dies, you won’t have me at all.”

“If he doesn’t, Anathema will be just as dangerous as it was. The members need to see it, The Coup need the message. Nobody betrays the club. We let him go, and it’ll be a sign of weakness. People will try to hit the officers, start another war. His death ends five years of constant bloodshed.”

“His death will destroy everything that Anathema is.” She wiped away a tear. “It will destroy you. Us. Anything we might have. Please, Thorne. I trusted you.”

“I never asked you to trust me.”

I pushed her to Keep as her quaking sobs nearly wrenched her body in half. Keep pulled her toward the bike. She fought him to look at me once again. To stare with widened, beautiful eyes brimming with tears and honesty and goodness and everything I wanted and everything I needed.

“Thorne,
please
. I love you!”

The words seared through me in beautiful agony.

I had been shot, stabbed, beaten, and thrown from my bike, but nothing ached, nothing destroyed me, nothing ground into my skin and exposed every stinging nerve like those three words spoken by my personal angel.

The morning stilled. The silence exposing my weakness screamed for all the world to hear.

She didn’t want me to kill her brother.

If he didn’t die, Rose’s compassion would kill us all.

I reached for my gun, flipped the safety off, and fired before Rose could even scream.

The shot echoed.

The violent, unmistakable blast was my song. My voice. My talent. It scared and frightened, punished and ruled, rendered enemies helpless, and destroyed more than just the life it took.

Brew stared at the bullet hole beside his feet. He looked at me, his breathing ragged.

“
Leave
.” The desperation in my voice scared me. I didn’t look at Rose, though in that moment I would’ve done anything just to end her tears. “Get the hell out of this town. I want you out of the state. On the other side of the country. I’m letting you live, but no one can know you’re alive. Do you understand?”

“Exile?” Brew asked.

“Take your bike. Stop for anything, talk to anyone, and she won’t be able to save you.” I tucked my gun away. “Hug your sister and get the hell out of here.”

Rose jumped into his arms. She hugged him tight enough she might have squeezed the bullet out if we left it in his shoulder. He clutched her just as close, kissed her forehead, and thanked me with a single glance over her head. Keep eventually reached in and pulled them apart. He hugged his brother, and Brew slapped a hand against his cheek.

“Take care of yourself,” Brew said. “Get clean. Hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Keep rubbed his eye and pushed his brother away. “Get out of here before the Boss puts a bullet in your skull.”

I nodded. “Keep, get Rose in the truck.”

Rose didn’t want to pull away from her brother. Keep eventually hauled her into his arms and forced her into the passenger seat. Brew waved, but neither of us bought the show.

He turned to face me as I shoved a fist-full of twenties at him.

“What’s the real fucking reason?” Brew lowered his voice. “Are you that pussy-whipped by Rose?”

 “Keep talking. She thinks I spared you. Give me a reason, and I’ll find you a mile up the road.”

“What the hell are you doing?” He stared at me. “You’ve never shown anyone mercy before.”

“Yeah, well, first time for everything.”

“Thorne.”

“Temple has the money to get Blade out of jail. When he’s out, I can’t touch him. Not without unleashing bloody hell on everyone, including her.” I locked eyes with the only man who understood my newest obsession. The only man with even more of a reason to end Blade, a scourge that plagued the world. “You know what has to be done.”

Brew said nothing. He didn’t need me to tell him. He’d already decided his fate when the bullet punctured the dirt.

He forced a smile and waved to Rose before climbing onto his bike. I waited for him to flip the ignition and circle back down the road before getting into the truck.

Rose wept, but she clutched my hand as soon as I sat. I wiped the tears from her cheek. Her smile was just as sweet as her voice.

“No one can know he’s alive,” I said. “You’ll have to pretend. Do you understand?”

She nodded. Keep gave me a thumbs-up.

“What happened here stays a secret.”

Rose edged closer to me, laying her head on my shoulder. With Exorcist dead, and the blight threatening Anathema culled, I never gave a thought to what I might need once the bloodlust sated.

Fortunately, I had an angel to drag me out of hell and lead me back into the light.

She’d probably end up killing me, but my diva with the heavenly voice would save me from myself.