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“Don’t fuckin’ trust her, boss, I’m not ridin’ with her.”
Cohen’s voice is angry and low, his eyes pierce me with an intensity that would make anyone a little less strong squirm. Not me, though. He doesn’t scare me, and his little tantrums aren’t going to bother me, either.
We have a mission, and I’m coming on that mission. Unfortunately, it’s a hell of a drive that’ll take us a week, with stops. Cohen and Samson are the only two who have free space in the truck they’re going in, so that means I’m entrusted to travel with them. It doesn’t both me at all, but Cohen isn’t happy about it, not at all.
He still thinks I’m leading them on a wild goose chase, but I’m not. I’m taking them to what they’re looking for, I’m giving Samson his daughter back, I’m just not sure they understand what else is in store for them when they arrive. I told Alarick to be sure he had a good plan, and I know he does, but what I didn’t tell him is that there are more men there than he could possibly imagine. Even if he picks up Benedict and manages to use him as bait, he’ll never take down the mass production they’ve got going on there, there are simply too many men.
Guilt has started to eat away at me, especially considering I’m growing closer to Waverly and I really like Mykel, Samson and hell, most of them really. The idea of doing something bad to them is starting to make me doubt myself. Maybe there is another way? I mean, surely there is a better revenge plan than to lead them right into a fucking ambush?
I don’t know.
I’m torn between two parts of myself, the part that hates what happened to me because of this club, because of Cohen, but the other part of me knows that I’m going to be risking the lives of many innocent people just to make myself feel better.
I shake the thoughts from my head, the doubt, the guilt.
Nobody had any of those feelings when I was taken away.
Nobody, not even my best friend, came after me and tried to find me.
No, I don’t have any reason to feel guilty about this.
Right?
“Don’t get a choice,” Alarick says, throwing a heap of luggage into the back of Cohen’s truck. “We’re full, and I don’t care if you trust her or not. We’ve got to do this, and that’s pretty much all there is to it.”
“She could be leadin’ us right into the devil’s fuckin’ pen, how do you trust anythin’ that comes out of her mouth?” Cohen growls, his demeanor tense and overpowering.
Alarick stops mid throw of someone’s bag and glances at Cohen. “If she does, I’ll make sure the last five years of her life are nothin’ on what I’ll have in store for her.”
His eyes swing to me when he says that, and something inside my stomach turns. Fear, bitter rage, a whole swirl of emotions I don’t fully understand nor wish to.
“Be too fuckin’ late by then,” Cohen growls, fists clenched now. “I don’t fuckin’ trust her and I think you need to be more fuckin’ careful. She shouldn’t be comin’ with us.”
“You don’t get a choice in that,” I say, before Alarick can answer.
Cohen ignores me.
“Got no other options right now, brother. Understand your hesitation, but we have to get Samson’s girl back, not to mention, we got to fuckin’ finish this. You might not like it, but we are runnin’ out of ideas.”
“Well, at the very least you need someone watchin’ her.”
Alarick grins. “You’re right, I do. You’re on the job.”
Cohen glares at him. I do, too.
“What, no?” I say, shaking my head. “He can’t stand me.”
“Well, then it’ll give you both time to get over your fuckin’ issues. Cohen, you keep an eye on her. If she’s up to no good, I expect you’ll figure it out.”
Cohen shakes his head with utter disgust and turns, getting into the truck and starting it. As the truck idles away next to me, I see Bohdi come out with Merleigh. I haven’t had much to do with the two of them, but I do know that Merleigh was someone the club rescued along with Cova and that Bohdi is only new and still a prospect. The two of them spend a good deal of time together and mostly keep to themselves.
Merleigh is lovely, from the small conversation I’ve had with her. Bohdi I haven’t spoken to, but my god he’s attractive. All surfer biker dude. He has an edge about him, and a darkness so deep, you can see it when he looks at you. His eyes are that of a broken man, and his silence speaks volumes.
I wonder what happened to him.
“Can we squeeze in your truck?” Merleigh asks Cohen as he winds down the window. “Mykel and Waverly are going to take Samson now, so we figure it’ll be best if we come with you.”
“Yeah, get in.”
Bohdi climbs into the front and Merleigh and I get into the back. She flashes a smile at me, and I return it before we hit the road, ready for our first five-hour journey. We’re stopping at a motel tonight, and we’ll do so for the next few days until we reach Benedict. Then, we have the wonderful job of somehow getting hold of him, before continuing on to where we’ll find Dax, Blanche and of course, Uncle Peter.
He has so many answers I need.
Monster.
He always was a monster.
He never liked me; I was always the outcast. After Mom died, I was the only girl in our direct family, and he made it known that I was worth absolutely nothing to their company and their family. He turned my father against me, and even my brothers refused to give me the time of day. They thought they were better than me, because that’s exactly how my father and Peter wanted it to be.
I was just a thorn in their side.
Yet still, they were the only family I had.
I glance out the window, trying to shake the emotions that are desperately fighting for the surface. I need to push them down, need to remind myself why I’m here. I close my eyes and think of the last five years, of the beatings and the rape, of the life I couldn’t get away from for so long. I think of the people who never came for me, who never checked to see if I was okay, to save me from the hell they placed me in. I think of Cohen, and the friendship he betrayed.
My rage soon overtakes any emotion.
“How are you enjoying being home?”
Merleigh’s soft voice snaps me from my memories, and I turn, facing her. “I won’t be here for long.”
“Thank fuck for that,” Cohen mutters from the front of the truck.
His words hurt, but I’ll never show him that. Instead, I ignore him and keep talking to Merleigh. We talk about how she was sold and how she is enjoying being back. The time flies and I find her really easy to get along with. Before I know it, we’re pulling into the motel and climbing out of the truck.
It’s a hot day, and my clothes feel like they’re sticking to my body as we all unpack our things and separate into rooms. I’ve been placed with Merleigh, thank god, because if I had to share a room with Cohen too, I might just lose it. Instead, he’s sharing a room right next to ours with Bohdi and Samson.
The rooms are old, but cheap. They’re clean, and I suppose that’s all you really need. I unpack enough to get me through the night and then decide I’ll go for a walk and check out the town, maybe find a bar to finish off my afternoon. It’s better than sitting here, knowing good and well that nobody really wants me around.
I get changed, slip some comfortable shoes on, and then leave the room, closing the door behind me. I glance around and decide I’ll just wander about until I find something to do. I like exploring new towns—it’s fun and exciting. When you’ve been locked away for as long as I have, you appreciate the small things, like a park, or gardens, or a fountain.
“Where are you goin’?”
Cohen’s voice comes from behind me and I jump, spinning around to see him walking after me, sunglasses covering his eyes so I can’t see his expression.
“I’m going for a walk, check things out, and then I’m going to the bar.”
“Good, I’m coming with you.”
“You can’t be serious?” I snap, crossing my arms.
“You could be meetin’ up with someone, not riskin’ it. Alarick told me to watch you, so I’m goin’ to be doin’ just that.”
I glare at him. “You don’t want anything to do with me, we both know that, so I’m not sure why you’re allowing Alarick to give you orders like that.”
“Because I don’t trust you. It’s really that simple. I’m comin’ with you.”
Fine, if he wants to come with me, I’m going to make him walk this town three fucking times. I can make it miserable for him, no doubt about it. And miserable, it will be.
I turn and start walking again, nearing the town center. It’s green and bustling, with cars and people everywhere. Cafés line the main street and there are a few parks scattered around. I stop into a café, grab myself a muffin and a coffee, and then I take a walk around. Cohen follows me silently. No doubt to people watching, it looks weirdly suspicious.
I’m strolling through a park when a man jogs up to me. He’s only young, maybe thirty, and he’s quite handsome. He slows down when he reaches me and asks in a puffed voice, “Ma’am, are you okay?”
I glance at him, confused. “Sure, why do you ask?”
“That man is following you, and I’ve seen him doing so for quite some time. I’ve been jogging through town.”
I look behind me to see Cohen about ten yards behind me, his eyes on the man I’m speaking to.
“Actually, you know, I am a bit concerned. He has been scaring me,” I say to the man, glancing at Cohen again.
“Come with me, I’ll give you a ride.”
I flash a smile in Cohen’s direction as the jogger takes my arm and walks close to me. Angrily, Cohen strides up and growls, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I don’t want any trouble, I’m just taking her home. She’s concerned that you’ve been following her,” the jogger says, stepping in front of me a little so Cohen has no access to me.
What a gentleman.
“She’s with me,” Cohen growls. “Step the fuck back or I’ll make you.”
“I can’t do that, she’s concerned for her safety, and I take that seriously. Please step back or I’ll call the police.”
“You’ll call fuckin’ no one, because she’s with me. I’m escortin’ her because she’s in danger. You want to be responsible if somethin’ happens to her?”
The jogger glances at me, and I shake my head. “He’s making it up, I don’t know him.”
My voice is soft and scared and the look Cohen gives me could blow me apart right here. The man pulls out his phone and then slowly takes my hand and starts leading me away. “If you follow us, I’ll call the police.”
Cohen lets us go, but when I look back at him to flash him another killer smile, he’s giving me a look that screams he’ll have bloody revenge for me when I return.
When we’re out of sight, the man turns to me and says, “Would you like me to circle back around to my car and give you a ride, or are you okay now?”
“I’m okay, I’ll go over the road to a café. Thank you for all your help, I really appreciate it.”
I turn and jog across the street toward a large bar that’s bustling with people.
I’m causing chaos, I know it.
If only I cared.
~*~*~*~
I PLACE MY EMPTY GLASS down and wave at the bartender to fill it once more. I’m on my fifth or sixth beer. I don’t know, I stopped counting once I started feeling light-headed and happy. I’ve been in this great little bar for easily two hours and am enjoying every second of it. The atmosphere is fantastic, and the bartender is chatty and friendly, telling me about his life, how long he’s lived here and other great stories.
He puts a fresh beer down, and I give him an appreciative smile. “Thank you, keep them coming.”
“Are you meeting friends?” he asks me, wiping down the counter with a damp cloth.
“No, I’m not planning on it. I’m only here for the night, just enjoying the local attractions.”
He laughs. “Well, make sure you don’t go wandering off by yourself when it gets dark.”
“Yes, boss.”
He winks at me and goes to serve someone else. The stool beside me slides out, and I glance to my left to see Briella sitting down beside me, her face tight with anger. Great, just what I need right now, another fight with someone.
“Briella,” I say, taking a sip of the beer.
“Why did you ditch Cohen?”
She can’t be serious? What are we, third graders?
“Because I’m a grown ass woman and I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Well, what we’re doing is dangerous and he’s only looking out for the club. Once, you would have understood that.”
I’m frustrated. I know I’m not treating her right, but hell, she isn’t treating me right either. My god, she’s being so damned hurtful. I look to her and my expression shows all the rage I’m feeling in my chest. Our eyes meet and, in a hiss, I say, “What is your problem? All you do is continually tell me who I used to be. What about who you used to be, Briella? What about the girl who was supposed to be my friend, that let me disappear without ever once fucking looking for me?”
She looks like I’ve slapped her. She reels backward and her mouth drops open, her features filling with shock. “What?” she whispers.
“You heard me. I was in the hands of a fucking monster, and not one of you, not fucking one of you, bothered to look. You all assumed I left and never wanted to be found again. You were my best fucking friend, you were there that day, you should have known that I’d never fucking run away never to make contact again.”
She’s shaking her head now.
Has she not honestly thought of this before?
Considered how it felt for me?
“Aviana ...”
“You want to throw in the kind of person I am now, have a good hard look at your fucking self. Do you know what that man did to me? He raped me. He hurt me. He abused me. He kept me as his own personal fucking slave. I have seen the kind of hell you couldn’t even begin to imagine. Don’t you dare come in here telling me I’m different, I have a fucking right to be different.”
I’m screaming now, my voice high and almost frightened in its pitch. I shove the barstool back, not looking at any of the people who are currently staring at me. Tears, tears I’ve fought so damned hard to keep away, rise to the surface. This time, I don’t know if I can keep them in, this time, I don’t think I can be strong.
I’m so tired of being strong.
Sometimes, I just want to be weak, pathetic.
That is so much easier.
I turn and rush out of the bar, my head spinning from the alcohol. I don’t know where I’m going, I don’t bother to stop and look. It’s dark, and I run until I can’t run anymore. I find a park nestled amongst thick bushes. I kick my shoes off and walk into the soft sand, panting, tears burning so hard I don’t think I can hold them back a second longer. One tear rolls down my cheek, followed by another, and I don’t make it to the swing.
I fall into the sand, and then I sob.
A loud, pained sob.
I haven’t cried for so long, I have forgotten what it feels like.
It hurts.
I hate it.
But I can’t stop it.
I hang my head and cry for everything that I’ve endured, everything that I’ve lost and everything that I’ve become.
They’re right, I am a monster.
I’m right, they’re monsters.
We’re all bloody monsters.
Yet, there is so much love to be had.
So much fucking love.
Love I don’t know if I can ever accept, even though the biggest parts of me wish I would take it.
I don’t know how long I sit on that sand, alone in the darkness, but the sound of footsteps has me lifting my head and looking behind me to see Cohen walking toward me. I have no idea how he found me, but I do know I don’t want him to see me like this, so vulnerable, so broken, so pathetic.
“I thought I’d find you here,” he says, stopping in front of me and staring down at me, sitting in the sand, drunk.
“How?” I croak, my voice hoarse.
“You love playgrounds. I remember that much.”
He’s right.
I do love playgrounds.
When I was younger, and far bubblier, I used to think that people were way too serious and that they had forgotten how to have the innocence and fun of a child. I never wanted to lose that, so I would find a playground anytime I could, and I’d swing on the swings and go down the slippery slides. Once you lose the child inside, you lose so much of yourself.
“Come on, let’s get you back to the motel.”
“Don’t be nice to me, Cohen. Don’t be nice to me because you can see how fucking pathetic and broken I am right now. Don’t feel pity for me, I don’t want any of that from you. It’s your fault I’m this way.”
My words come out like acid, spitting and strong. Cohen doesn’t say anything, but he does lean down and reach out for my hand. He scoops it up with his and slowly pulls me to my feet. He doesn’t feed me pity, or kind words, he just brings me to my feet and then we start walking toward his truck.
When we reach it, he opens the door and I climb in.
The drive back to the motel is silent, but silence doesn’t scare me. I find comfort in its depths. I bring my knees up to my chest and curl my arms around them, resting my chin on my knees. My tears are long dried up, but my heart still has that same ache I can’t seem to chase away.
Everything hurts.
Sometimes, I want it all just to go away.
Other times, I relish in it.
Right now, deep down, if I were to admit the truth to myself, I wish someone would take it away for me. Just once. Just this time.
“Briella told me what you said to her tonight.”
Cohen’s voice fills the darkness of the car, and it’s softer than I’ve heard him use since I’ve been back. It’s gravelly, and always deep, but it’s missing that edge he usually uses when he talks to me.
“And?” I whisper, my voice too tired to come out.
“And I didn’t know. I didn’t know that happened to you. I know it doesn’t matter to you now, Aviana, but I never fuckin’ wanted that for you. I thought you would be safe. I thought I was doin’ the right thing.”
Of course he thought that.
Don’t we all think we’re doing right by others, until we find out we weren’t?
“You were my best friend, I trusted you.”
My voice cracks and more tears roll down my cheeks.
I turn my face away.
I don’t want to say anything more.
It won’t help.
It’ll only make things worse.
Cohen doesn’t say anything else either. Instead, he pulls up at the motel and turns off the truck.
I get out of it and don’t look back.
I can’t.
If I do, I’m scared he’ll see just how much I needed him in that moment.