Page 103 of Hash

“Brother, what the fuck?” Cyrus asks, looking concerned as he looks between me and the red streaks of blood on his white bag.

I yank my shoulders out of his grasp, my attention never leaving the bag as I swing again.

“Tell me what the fuck is going on!” Cyrus yells over the music as he tries to grab me again.

I dodge him, moving around the bag as I keep punching.

“It’s my fucking fault. It’s all my fucking fault!”

“What’s your fault?” Cyrus yells, looking a little frantic that he can’t stop me.

My knuckles are burning as I feel the skin rip open more. Blood is dripping onto the ground with each punch I throw.

“What the fuck is going on down here?” Cain yells as he comes down the stairs and stands next to Cyrus, taking in the scene in front of him.

“If it weren’t for me, she would never have been in this world. I should have just left her the fuck alone. Fuck, I should leave her alone now!” I yell, hitting the bag harder. I grit my teeth against the pain. I deserve it. Every fucking ounce of it.

“Why do I have a feeling this shit just got worse?” I barely hear Prez ask Cyrus over the music.

I grunt as I throw one last punch before I lean my forearm against the bag, resting my head on it as I try to catch my breath.

The music turns off, making the room go silent.

“Tell me what happened,” Cain demands.

I exhale loudly as I push off the bag, turning to face them. “When Aisling woke up, I asked her to tell me what happened between the time I hung up the phone with her and we got there.”

They both nod their heads, waiting for me to continue.

“She told me he broke into her place and beat her fucking ass to deliver a warning to the club.”

“The fuck?” Cain growls at the same time Cyrus’ face hardens.

“Told her the Dirty Devils’ days are numbered in Ravenna Heights.”

“Did she say what he looked like?” Cain asks, his voice laced with anger.

I can barely shake my head; I’m so mad. “He was wearing a ski mask.”

“Of course he was. Fucking pussy.” Cyrus spits.

“What about any identifiable markings, like a tattoo or some shit?” Cain asks as he crosses his arms and widens his stance, his face hard as stone.

“She didn’t say. I’ll ask when I go back up.”

“Who would know about her, though? The only time you guys have been seen out in public since you found out about Cormac is at the Bella Vita, right?” Cyrus asks.

I try to get myself to focus, but I can’t. “I think so,” I end up saying because I can’t think about anything other than Aisling getting her face beat in because of me. “Fuck!” I roar, swinging around and landing another hard punch to the bag, the slap echoing throughout the room.

“Is Doc still here?” I hear Cain ask.

“I think so,” Cyrus answers.

“Have him wrap up his hand. Aisling doesn’t need to see that shit,” Cain tells him before turning his attention to me. “And you.” He points at me. “You need to get a lock on this shit. It’s not going to help us or her if you can’t keep your head on straight. Your kid doesn’t need to see that shit either.”

My nostrils flare as I nod my head, not trusting myself to answer. He’s right. I need to get a lock on it.

“I need to go for a ride. Clear my head,” I finally say as I move to head upstairs.