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A fighter.
A survivor.
I survived him once, but he won’t survive me ever again.
I’m a motherfucking Viper, and he is nothing. Just a dead man walking.
We pull up outside the house. The sun is shining, and it warms me through the tinted window as I stare at the rundown house that once felt like a prison to me. How I used to crave Rob’s love, or even for just his eyes to move along, to not see me. I left here as a child, and now I’m coming back as a woman.
“Ready, love?” Ryder asks, breaking into my thoughts.
I swing my head around to see them all staring at me, all offering me their strength. I nod and slip from the car, the slamming of the doors loud in the derelict neighbourhood as they follow after me.
We stand outside.
Ryder in a suit, Kenzo too. Garrett in his leather, and Diesel in his jeans and wife beater, but they scream money, and I guess I do now as well. My body is encased in ripped jeans, kick ass boots, and a designer shirt.
I came from nothing, just like my men, and now I own this town. With them.
Walking up the path is like taking a trip down memory lane, as flashes of the night I ran away crowd my memory. It was night, they were asleep, and I was so scared to be caught, my meagre possessions stuffed into a plastic shopping bag. I had fallen, scraped my knees and hands, and had to bite my lip to stop from crying out so they wouldn’t hear. I looked back at the house, the curtains shut and windows dark.
Just like now.
I reach the door and, sucking in a breath, I raise my hand and rap my knuckles on the worn wood. We wait silently, but no one answers, so I knock louder and hear shuffling inside.
“Yeah, yeah, if this is those bible cunts again—” He slurs and rips open the door, freezing when his eyes land on the men and then me, a sneer curling his lips. His dark eyes, the same as mine, are filled with annoyance.
“The fuck you want? You bought her, I don’t want her back,” he snaps, and tries to shut the door. I slam my boot in the way and then push it open, causing him to stumble back, even as he starts to yell.
“The fuck do you want? I covered the debt, and I don’t owe you bastards—” Ryder shoves him into a chair.
“Sit down and shut up for once,” he snarls, before stepping away and leaning against the wall, rolling back his sleeves.
Garrett shuts the door and stands before it, his arms crossed. Diesel wanders around the room, giggling and flicking open his lighter repeatedly. Kenzo stays close to me in case I need him. I’m frozen on the spot though, looking around.
It’s smaller than I remember, smellier too. I guess pain warps your memories. In my head, this was hell, and when I have nightmares about it, it all seems so much…more. I guess facing it now is making me realise I have been building this place up in my head, and now that I’m standing here, I’m not afraid.
My eyes return to the man who caused me so much misery. His shirt is dirty, stained, and ripped in places. His beard and hair are unkempt, his eyes blurry from whatever he was drinking or shooting up. His body is almost wasting away, lanky and skinny now, smaller than I remember too. His face is gaunt, his eyes sunken in, and his hair is thinning and greasy.
I can’t believe I used to be so terrified of this man. Walking around the couch, I drop onto the edge of the stained cushion and stare at him. “Hi, Dad, how have you been?”
He snorts and turns his head to spit on the carpet, making me purse my lips in disgust. “The fuck you want? We had a deal.”
“Oh, yes, me for your debt. I mean, really, Rob, still using me as your punching bag because you’re not adult enough to deal with your own issues?” I laugh bitterly.
He narrows his eyes on me, but looks to Ryder. “Better control your cunt before I remind her who’s still the man of this house.”
“Not you by the looks of it,” I snap, bringing his eyes back to me. “They won’t help you, they are here to help me.”
“The fuck you talking about, girlie?” he sneers, leaning forward and sniffing hard, wiping at his stained mouth.
“The fuck I mean is I’m one of them now, and they don’t take well to anything or anyone being able to hurt us. Like you, Rob, you just keep coming back. I could have walked away if you had let me go when I ran, but you didn’t, you sold me. You inserted yourself back in my life again. Yes, it worked out well for me, but I can’t have that happening again. All it would take is the wrong person to come knocking, and you would fold like a cheap fucking suit and the rat you are. I will not let you put us in danger,” I snap.
“Fine, whatever you say, what will it take to make you go away again?” He sighs, not getting it. I shake my head at him and wag my finger.
“Nothing you can afford,” I taunt.
He just laughs and leans back, his body seeming incapable of holding him up. I watch him then, really watch him, and realise just what a broken man he is. He has nothing or no one but the bar booze he drinks. He’s getting older and will probably die soon from all the abuse he has put his body through.
