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“How the fuck have you been eating then? I know damn sure your mom barely leaves that bedroom. Jesus, Hunt, what are you eating?”
He shrugged again. “Sometimes jerky…”
“Other times?”
Other times—though not lately—Skye cooked him spam and eggs. He didn’t want to bring her up. Not to Roy. Not yet, anyway.
When Hunter didn’t respond straight away, Roy sighed. “Fucking hell, you can come around the clubhouse now, you know, and we can serve you some good grub.”
“Miles said I had to wait.”
“Fuck Miles. Who the fuck is the Prez, Hunt?”
Hunt jerked his head at him. “You are.”
“That’s damn right. Best you don’t forget, either, and running away like you did last night? Unacceptable, Hunt. We don’t fucking run from our problems—”
“I thought I killed him.” Hunter’s voice broke. “I let thatthingout, and I hate what it does to me, Roy.”
Roy went still, eyeing Hunter with softer eyes. “Thatthingdoesn’t have to be a weakness, Hunt. It can be your strength.”
“I don’t know how.”
“We teach you how.”
Hunter felt weak all of a sudden. He went to the small wooden table and collapsed on the chair. It squeaked under him, groaning from his weight. Everything was starting to feel small now that he was getting so big. He ran a hand through his hair, shellshocked, admitting, “I thought you might not want me back.”
Roy chuckled deep in his throat. “You ain’t getting out that easily.”
Hunter looked up at him now as he rummaged through the few cabinets. “You mean that?”
Roy was grinning now. “When we welcomed you in, Hunt, we meant it. Besides,” he added, pulling out the ancient frying pan, glancing briefly at Hunter, “that guy was going to expire anyway. Your savageness was warranted.”
Few things rattled Hunter so much, but hearing that man brag about the things he did to the whores around town rattled the fuck out of him. Hunter was supposed to process the cunt’s payment, but he wound up standing there, holding the man’s credit card tight in his grip as he heard everything he spewed. He’d said it so fleetingly, too, while the men worked on his vehicle. Cocky fuck was leaning against the front, arms crossed, grinning ear to ear as he bragged about the sick shit he’d made the latest girl do and—
Hunter snapped.
He couldn’t even remember what he did, only that the spanner he held was bloody when it was all done and he—he was bloody, too.
Everyone stared at him in that shocked, horrified way he’d come to get used to—
And he ran.
God, he ran and didn’t turn back, not when Roy screamed his name, not when they jumped on their bikes and tried to chase after him. Those roaring engines rattled him, spurred him to push on.
Hunter faded into the night, jumping the fences, blending into the pockets of darkness away from prying lights until he found his way to Skye’s window. Even then he couldn’t remember his journey there; he only knew that he was suffering, and he needed her touch to make all the bad go away.
All of it still felt like a bad dream he wasn’t waking up from.
“He owed a debt,” Roy explained, tearing through his thoughts. “He wasn’t going to pay it, either. He was hurting our business by hurting our girls, and he was hiding behind his family name, thinking we wouldn’t do anything to set him straight. He was wrong, wasn’t he?”
Hunter nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
“So then relax.”
A stretch of silence followed.
“Is she alright?” Hunter wondered quietly, looking down at the table.
