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Prologue
Awakening
Sig ground his teeth, hoping it would help drown out the noise. The bed squeaking. The thumping of the headboard against the wall. The deep, loud grunts of the man between his mother’s legs.
Years.
He’d heard it for years. Ever since he could remember.
He’d peeked in on them a few times when he was too young to know better. Not understanding what was going on.
Curious.
He’d quietly open the door just a crack and put his eye to the sliver of space.
Watching.
Wondering why the man was on top of his mother. Why they were both making those noises.
Why this happened so often.
But it did. A lot.
Anytime his father wasn’t around.
Which was also a lot.
But he knew his father would come home later, usually after Sig was in bed, and do the same thing to his mother, too.
Only there wasn’t as much noise. At least on his mother’s part.
He’d also watched them a couple times.
Then one day he realized what they were doing.
What it all meant.
And for a while, he had a hard time looking his mother in the face.
A long time.
Eventually, he learned what they were doing because he’d watch the same type of thing happen in front of everyone at the warehouse, which was the Blood Fury’s church, the clubhouse for his father’s MC.
Other women. Other men. Lots of them.
He’d even seen his father do it right out in the open to women who weren’t his mother.
Right there.
In front of everyone.
He wasn’t the only one. In fact, sometimes there was a line-up. All his father’s club brothers. Sticking their dicks into the same woman as she was held down on a table or over a barrel. And she’d be smiling and encouraging them.
At least most of them. Not all.
Some were awake, some weren’t.
Some would leave after that and never return.
Others came back for more.
When he’d gotten older, his body began to react when watching it. And he wanted to stand in line, too.
Hell, he’d even watched his best friend get his cherry popped by one of those sweet butts. What he thought, at the time, was a nicer name for what he learned later was a club whore.
He’d been in the crowd that circled Trip and the sweet butt as Buck ordered the woman to spread her legs and let Trip nut inside her.
Trip did. And he’d only been fourteen.
Sig had been eleven at the time and hoped his father, Razor, would order the sweet butt to do the same for his own son.
He hadn’t.
So, when his body would react, he would have to hide for a while until his painful erection went back down, or he’d end up making a mess in his underwear because he couldn’t control it.
Once, one of the other women in the warehouse had noticed his discomfort and blown him a kiss, saying, “Whenever your daddy says it’s okay.”
Razor never did.
Because Razor didn’t give a shit about his boy.
Not one shit.
Not like Buck did for Trip.
While Trip was his best friend, he also never told him that his father was coming over and screwing his mother.
Because he couldn’t.
Buck had always warned him to keep his “fuckin’ mouth shut.” To keep the Blood Fury’s president’s visits to his mother a secret.
“You tell anyone, I’ll fuckin’ kill her, boy. You hear me? She wants it. Begs for my dick. That’s the only reason I’m here. You say somethin’ an’ if I don’t kill her first, your pop will.” He had grabbed Sig’s long hair, fisted it painfully and ripped his head back. “You fuckin’ hear me?”
Sig had struggled not to cry out or show his fear. Because that was what Buck wanted. Buck liked people to be afraid of him. “Y-yeah.”
“Not a goddamn word, boy.”
In truth, Sig was afraid of Buck. Most everyone was. Except for Sig’s mother, Silvia. And maybe Trip’s mother, Tammy.
Buck had a nasty temper and you didn’t want it focused on you. Otherwise, you’d be hurting and that hurt would last a while.
Like the time Buck caught Sig watching a couple weeks ago. He’d rolled off his mother and within a couple strides, had a frozen Sig by his throat and thrown to the floor at the foot of the bed.
Sig was just glad the man wasn’t wearing his boots. Otherwise, he might have ended up dead.
Instead, a naked Buck stomped on him a few times. In places Razor would never see. Sig’s back, his stomach, his ribs, even his junk.
Sig had curled into a tight ball, trying to protect himself. When that didn’t work, he struggled to crawl back out the door, clawing his way across the dirty, worn carpet.
Luckily, Buck let him go, still kicking Sig as he did his best to escape. And once he got near the open door, Buck kicked his ass right out of it, slamming it behind him and just missing Sig’s foot.
