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He mutilated me.
The doctors called me a miracle.
As I laid motionless in the hospital bed, all I could think about were my babies. Detective Montoya told me that my babies were being well taken care of, that the Stone Family was protecting them.
“Mrs. Stevens, do you have anyone we can call?”
Blinking twice, the Detective placed a marker in my left hand while he held a dry erase board. As carefully as I could, I wrote.
Kole.
“Your brother?”
I nodded.
The Detective nodded and said, “Kali, he’s been gone a long while, but I’ll find him. I promise.”
The club visited me every day, even posting brothers outside my door. Detective Montoya sent updates and tried to reassure me he and the precinct were doing everything they could to find my husband. My children were safe and being very well looked after. Brothers stopped by to visit, even showing me pictures of them smiling and playing. Everyone tried to express that everything was going to get better and as much as I wanted to believe them, I knew that was impossible.
My husband had disappeared. Detective Montoya informed me that there was an APB, and they would soon apprehend him. I quickly learned that meant no one knew where he was and I was still in danger. Until my husband was in police custody, I wasn’t safe. I never would be.
Even then, I would never be free of him.
The shocking news came when the press learned about what happened. They were relentless in their desire for any information about me, my kids, or my husband. My attack hit the news cycle overnight. Page six of the society page. Philanthropic Heiress mutilated by husband, the headlines read. Now the entire world knew what he had done to me. I could no longer hide my shame.
As the only living granddaughter of Albert Vanderveer, I lived a protected life. My grandfather ensured that after his only son, my father died in a motorcycle accident. My mother passed away from cancer when I was three. I barely remembered her. When my dad died, my grandfather stepped away from his world to take care of Kole and I. Grandfather gave us a life.
A happy life.
Even now, an occasional news cycle would recount those horrible days after my father died. Kole couldn’t handle the constant reminder and left. Not even my grandfather, with all his money, could locate my brother, my grandfather’s only male heir. Kole was ten years older than me. I didn’t enjoy thinking about that day, how I screamed at him. I knew I hurt him. I didn’t mean to and sometimes I wondered if that was why he never came home. I prayed that wherever he was, my brother was happy. As much as I wanted my big brother, I never could bring myself to interfere with his life. I was ashamed and didn’t want him to know the horror of my life.
Detective Montoya, the New York City Police Department and the Soulless Sinners club brothers were diligent in my safety. They made sure my kids stayed out of the press, even posting officers at Montana’s house to watch over them twenty-four-seven when the news broke. However, that didn’t stop them from trying to get to me. When a picture surfaced of me laying in a hospital bed, Detective Montoya and the club brothers lost it. In the end, the hospital fired the orderly and publicly apologized, but the damage was done.
My attorney, Mr. Crisp, wasted no time petitioning the courts for a divorce. With the evidence he had, a judge immediately signed off, and I was now legally Kaliope Leanna Vanderveer once again.
Though my marriage was over, my fear remained.
The courts gave me sole custody of my children and a restraining order for all of us. Not that it would do any good, but Detective Montoya told me it was necessary. The fact of the matter was, no one knew where my ex-husband had run off to. After he fled, leaving me to die, our joint account was emptied. He could be anywhere and until he surfaced, I was in danger.
One
Kansas
Present Day,
Pushing off the wall of the clubhouse, I dropped my cigarette to the ground and snuffed it out with the toe of my boot. Walking further into the dark night, I smelled an unfamiliar scent in the air as I looked out over the horizon at the town I claimed. I’d been in Lawton since I was nineteen years old, when I packed my shit and left home.
Fuck me, I was so God damned young back then. At nineteen I knew fucking nothing of the real world. Just dreams and a solid resolve that I could do anything, be anything.
Boy, was I fucking stupid.
Funny how life never ended as I thought, because if it did, I would still be married with a kid.
Fucking fate had other plans.
Fate was a fucking nasty bitch.
Walking around, I heard the loud thumping of music that permeated the air from the clubhouse. The brothers were fucking trying to party. They needed it. It has been a long time since we opened the doors. Even longer since we all laughed. Couldn’t remember the last time I heard one of my brothers just let go out of pure happiness.
