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“You think I can’t see that?” I retorted, glaring at him.
“All I’m saying is, it’s fucked up her mom popped smoke and all, but is she even old enough to be in the club? Not looking to go to jail for a minor, brother.”
I have to respect that, but for a second, I thought Torch was implying that I’m fucking a minor. Maybe he really did take a visit to jail at some point and is trying to watch his ass instead of doing a repeat.
“She’s eighteen,” I confirm, and Exterminator, one of the NOMADs, lets out a low whistle.
“Damn near jailbait,” he comments as if I don’t already know that. Her age is one thing that’s been holding me back from her for months. Had she been thirty, my cock would’ve already been buried in her pussy the first night I laid eyes on her.
“She knows you buried her momma?” Saint asks, wearing a smug sneer while divulging my big secret to the table.
“How the fuck do you know that?” My eyes shoot to his, anger rising in my chest. Jude can’t find out. Her mom may have been shit, but she doesn’t need to know she’s dead.
“Goddamn it.” Viking’s palm slams on the table. The sound echoing throughout the room like a clap of thunder, “Is he telling the truth, Sinner? Did you kill the bitch?”
“Yes, I did. It was an accident.” I lie. I did it on purpose, but denial is going to save me with this one. I’ll deny it to my grave if Jude ever suspects too.
“How the fuck is killing a bitch an accident?” Everyone’s scrutiny falls to me, waiting for me to answer our President. I guess he’s not buying it.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
This wasn’t supposed to come out like this. I needed to hash it out with Viking privately. I get it. These are my brothers, and we don’t keep fuck-all from each other, but I’m lost with this shit. I value his opinion and wanted it firsthand. He’d know what to do or at least help me figure it out.
“She was on something, tripping hard and came after me. This was after I’d met her kid and was trying to get her to agree to an annulment,” I declare, the revelation slipping without thought and Saint stands, his chair crashing to the floor behind him.
“You married the fucking cunt?” he bellows, rage beating down on me from his gape.
“It’s not like that, Saint,” I backtrack, making an effort to placate him, “I was fucked up when she got me to agree to anything.”
“Excuses!” he shouts.
I can only gape, scrambling to come up with something to say.
“After everything…after everything I’ve done for you. I fucking loved you; you were mine,” he finishes, fishing his favorite blade free from his side pocket. Thank God he’s not near his beloved machete. With a twist of his wrist the blade gleams, the sharp metal exposed and ready to do its damage.
“Calm down, brother.” Viking jumps to his feet, the others hurrying to follow suit.
“Don’t tell me to calm the fuck down. Sinner belongs to me.” Saint’s voice warps, going dark; I’ve never seen him so irate before. “I’ll show you what happens to those who betray me.”
Everyone springs into action as he lunges for me. I’m in shock. Never in a million years did I expect him, of all people, to turn on me. My body remains rooted in place as his hand grows near, connecting before I can blink or process what he’s doing.
He’s never hurt me in anyway before, always playing the savior when I’ve been in trouble. He’s killed many in our time together, but not an ounce of that menace was pointed in my direction. He’s forever been my Saint—my lifeline in a sense.
It takes a moment for me to register what he’s done, my heart breaking into a million shreds with the outcome. “You stabbed me,” I utter brokenly, shaken to my very core that he’d ever harm me in any way.
“You made me do it,” he proclaims as brothers wrench him away from me, separating us as much as the small room will allow.
“H-how is this my fault?” Gasping, my throat grows tight as the pain strikes me not where the gash is, but straight in my heart.
“You touched her, you married her, and you forgot who you belong to,” Saint retorts, shaking his head. He’s convinced that I fucking deserve this. In his mind, I’m guilty, and he’s punishing me for it.
“No, Saint.” My palm covers my side, growing slick with my own blood. Pausing, I try to collect my thoughts, everything a bit hazy.
Swallowing, I continue. “I never forgot. I killed her for you. She wouldn’t agree… Sh-she tried to keep me, so I killed her...for you.” Finishing, I grow weak.
Glancing at my rib area, there’s so much blood. My hand’s coated in the thick merlot liquid, my adrenaline draining away at the same time. It wouldn’t mean much in any other situation, but it belongs to me.
My eye’s close just as I hear our Prez. “Oh fuck, somebody catch him! Call 2 Piece now; we need him sewn up,” he orders and a wounded scream like no other escapes Saint as he fights against our brothers. Everything grows silent as the compassion of passing out finally sets in against the blood loss and my broken heart.
Sinner’s eyes close, and he tumbles out of his chair—unresponsive—and the reality of what I’ve done sets in. I didn’t aim for an area that would kill him, but to see him drop like a sack of potatoes has my stomach dropping and my mind going wild with ideas. “Do something!” I shout as the brothers pin me up against a wall, keeping me away from him.
A fist flies into my stomach, but it does nothing to slow me down. I’ve got too much adrenaline coursing through my body. My head slams into Torch, busting his nose wide open and blood sprays over my face. This time a fist coming from him hits my temple with enough force that I’m out for the count, like a kid taking his first dose of Benadryl.
