Page 71 of Wayward Souls


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“Explain it to me then.”

I think about it for a minute. Something tells me he wouldn’t judge me. I think it’s his eyes. Despite the nature of his line of work, there’s a certain kindness to them.

“It stays between us?”

“Of course.”

Setting the skirt on top of the pile, I turn and head for the register.

“Well, let’s go pay. We are going to need drinks for this.”

Setting the pile of clothes down, we stand in an awkward silence while the girl at the register rings up all the items. Riot pays with Travis’s credit card and grabs the bag in one hand, linking arms with me with the other.

We leave the store and walk through the mall in search of a restaurant with a bar. A few more shops down, we find one, and head inside. The hostess lets us know we can seat ourselves if we are sitting at the bar, so we navigate through the seating area and each pull up a stool.

“What’ll ya have?” the bartender asks, giving me a wink.

“Watermelon margarita with a sugar rim,” I wink back.

Riot interrupts, “If you value your eyes you’ll quit flirting with her, and I’ll just have a beer.”

The bartender rolls his eyes and steps away to get our drinks and I burst out laughing.

“Oh you think that’s funny? Travis would literally gouge that man’s eyes out and feed them to him for looking at you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I wave at him.

Setting our drinks down quickly, the bartender hurries off, and Riot reminds me why we’re even here in the first place.

“Alright, spill.”

Letting out a sigh, I take a sip of my margarita and prepare to give him enough morsels to satisfy him, maybe form some kind of friendship in all of this madness, but not enough to put him in danger. The Brotherhood think they are unstoppable, but they have no idea the kind of evil I’ve seen.

“It wasn’t always like this with Liam, ya know? He was good to me in the beginning. We met and I wasn’t really looking for anything. No matter how bad he broke me, no matter how angry I was, I’d always longed to have Travis back. That’s why when I ran, I came to Havok Hills. I hoped I’d see him on the street one day. Longed to see his face in a crowd, but it never happened. I finally started to accept it though, that he was gone. So I allowed myself to start something up with Liam. And it was good… Until it wasn’t.”

Riot nods, taking a sip of his beer, toying with the label.

“So why did you stay?”

“Scared, maybe? Or maybe I just began to accept there was nothing else for me. That I’d gotten what I deserved in this life and there was no sense in fighting it? When I woke up a few days ago though, I had finally started making a plan to leave. I just, I don’t want him to hurt himself or anyone else if I go.”

Suddenly I feel a little bit lighter. Riot looks at me with caring eyes, not a lick of judgment behind those baby blues. No pity, or disgust, just understanding. Like he gets it on some level, and I realize he carries pain the same way that I do. It's heavy on his soul.

“You know he’d protect you… and everyone else right?”

“That’s the thing Riot. He promised to protect me before. And then he left. And there was no one to save me from the hell I lived in. I want to believe everything he says. I want nothing more than for Travis Price to be in my life to stay, but I feel like I’d be delusional to believe that. All the fucked up shit I’ve been through in this life, him leaving was always what hurt the most.”

Sipping my margarita, I reflect on the words that flowed freely from my mouth. It’s the truth though isn’t it? I fight it, but all I want is for him to stay. Damn the consequences.

“I won’t pretend to know him the way that you do sweetness. But I don’t think you see what you do to him.”

“What do you mean?

“That man is fucking brutal. I mean he’s good to me, and the organization sure. I guess you could say we’re friends. But he’s brutal. I’ve seen what he’s capable of when he shuts everything off. When he goes to that dark place in his mind. But you? Fuck man, I’ve seen him break. He loves you, even if he has some seriously fucked up ways of showing it.”

Tipping back the rest of my margarita, I flag the bartender down and order another. I’m not quite sure if I’m ready to hear all of this.

“Are we, dare I say, bonding, Riot?” I giggle, changing the subject.

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