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“You always looked so much prettier when you cried,” Rogan hisses into my face as he leans in. His tongue darts out, and he licks at the wound he’s inflicted. I cower at the motion, at feeling his saliva on my flesh. “It made my dick so hard when you used to beg. It was a beautiful thing seeing you fear me.”
“You made sure I wanted no one else ever again,” I tell him earnestly.
There were times over the months, over the years, I believed that maybe my life didn’t come with a happy ending. Mine, more than likely, would come when Rogan finally got what he wanted—me dead.
“I bet that big, bad biker you’re hanging around with will say you’re a good fuck,” Rogan says, his lip curling in disgust as he looks at me. “I bet you’ve swallowed his dick already. Spread your legs for him just like the whore I know you are.”
“You believe what you need to,” I tell him.
I shouldn’t be goading the predator, but I can’t help myself. I want to see if he’ll take the bait. If he’ll finally admit to wanting me dead. All the time I was with him, I was certain that one day I wouldn’t wake up from one of his attacks. I guessed he would tell people I took my own life. I even thought about doing it, time and again, but something always stopped me.
Perhaps it was my father’s words to never give up, to fight until your last breath. But I do understand why people feel compelled to end it all. There have been many times I pondered leaping over the edge while knowing I won’t be hurt ever again.
Deep down, though, I just wasn’t brave enough because I knew the toll it would have on those I left behind. I didn’t have Dad anymore, but I still had the brothers of the MC, and I knew my death would burden them because they couldn’t save me.
The brothers care about me, even though I was the one who walked out on the club when they asked me to step into my father’s shoes. At the time, I was more focused on my needs. I wanted to be with Rogan. I didn’t think of the future beyond where I was. But now I’ve learned my lesson, and I’m saddened that I allowed those thoughts of having a normal life, away from the Kovenant MC, to take over. All I ever wanted was to be happy.
Losing both my parents culminated in me losing myself. It’s the worst thing I could have done, but it happened.
I look at Rogan and say, “I just want to be free.”
That’s all I feel the need to tell him, and as I utter the last word, I step into the knife and allow the blade to pierce through my clothing into the flesh of my right hip. But as I do, there’s a loud ringing in my ears, and Rogan goes down beside me, causing me to slump back onto the counter.
On the other side of the bar, dressed in a navy blue suit, is a man I’ve only seen glimpses of in the past, but I know exactly who he is. He comes to me quickly and pulls the blade from my left hip. It didn’t go deep enough to be fatal, thankfully.
“Ye’re gettin’ yerself into trouble, wee Clover. Luckily, ye uncle Patrick is here ta save ye,” Patrick Bragan says with a smile.
Bragan, the name that has been synonymous with violence and danger all my life. He was Dad’s elder brother, well, half-brother. Same mother, different fathers. When my dad was still a young boy, his father moved him away from Ireland, leaving Patrick to take over the mob. At least, that’s what I learned when I was growing up.
“Aren’t ye goin’ta thank me fer what I’ve just done, wee Clover?”
I don’t know the rest of the story, and I don’t want to know, considering this is the man the Royal Bastards are after. I recall the night I overheard them talking about him. He’s done some horrific things. And he’s not someone I want to have in my life.
“Thank you for saving me. But I have a feeling you’ll want something from me for doing it,” I say.
He may be family, but I don’t know him. He’s a stranger to me. But if Sully walked in here now, he wouldn’t believe I don’t know Patrick. After all, why would the head of the Irish mob save me? I’m a nobody.
“You should leave,” I tell him.
“Should I?” He tips his head to the side. “Because ye’re wee boyfriend is comin’ta save ye?” There’s a challenge in his eyes, and I know this man will gladly stay here and throw me under the bus. “I wonder what he’d do if he were ta find out that ye’re my niece.”
