Journey (Soulless Kings MC: Marble Falls, TX #2)

10. Wren

CHAPTER 10

WREN

Right now, under his scrutiny, fear becomes real.

“It is Wren, right?”

Leah elbows me in the side, stunning me out of my stupor. It’s been a while since I saw Journey, and I was beginning to think I imagined the entire night with him.

“Yep. Wren.”

Journey grins devilishly. “I don’t remember you being this… shy.”

“I’m surprised you remember me at all,” I counter, my tone harsher than I intend.

His grin slips, but only for a moment. “Really? Because last time we ran into each other, you drew a complete blank when it came to me.”

Last time we ran into each other?

“I’m sure you’re mistaken.” I glance at Leah. “We should go.”

“But I just got here,” Journey says, a pleading quality to his words, as he reaches for my hand.

When his fingers brush mine, a jolt of electricity zaps every single one of my nerve endings, and I have to tense my muscles to keep from collapsing into a puddle of rampant hormones on the floor.

“Yeah, Wren,” Leah adds. “He just got here.”

I roll my eyes at my friend. She knows why I’m hesitant to have a repeat performance with Journey, but she also doesn’t know when to quit. We have one of those love/hate friendships.

“I’m sorry,” I say, surprised at the genuine regret in my words. “I have to go.”

I push past Journey, ignoring Leah’s pleas that I stay, and rush to leave the bar. When I reach my car, I release the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. Guilt tries to rear its ugly head at leaving my friend behind, but I remind myself that Leah’s resourceful and will find a way home safely.

As soon as I start the car, my cell rings. I pull it from my purse and glance at the screen. Leah’s name flashes, but I ignore the call. Instead, I send her a quick text.

Me: I’m okay. I’ll pay for your Uber. Have fun tonight.

I don’t wait for her reply before tossing my phone onto the passenger seat and putting the car in gear to pull away from the curb. By the time I reach my apartment complex, my mind is spiraling, and the voices are intensifying.

Forget about him. It’d just end in heartache.

C’mon, have some fun. Live a little.

Good girl, Wren. You’re better than cavorting with strange men.

Journey’s big and scary.

I’d mount that horse and ride him into the sunset any time.

“Shut up,” I mutter as I unlock my front door and stride inside. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

As soon as I’m locked inside, I quickly make my way to my bedroom, stripping as I go. When the voices get this loud, I start to get uncomfortable in my own clothes, my own skin.

Naked, I climb into bed and pull the covers over my head in an effort to shut the world out. It doesn’t make the voices go away, but it does quiet them a little.

I spend a few minutes breathing in and out, in and out, trying to calm my mind. When that stops working, I start counting to one hundred. Dr. Young has taught me so many tips and tricks to keep my anxiety and the voices to a minimum, but they don’t always work.

Thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty, fort ? —

Thud, thud, thud.

Shoving the blankets off of me, I sit up straight and glare at the ceiling.

Why, God? Why is someone pounding on my door now?

Don’t answer it. Nothing good happens after a late-night knock on a door.

Aw, c’mon, answer it. Maybe it’s him!

I’ll fuckin’ kill him.

So much for a calm mind.

I scramble off the bed to rifle through my dresser for a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Once I’m as decent as I’m gonna get, I walk to the door.

“I’m coming,” I shout, annoyed at the continued pounding. “Don’t get your panties in a wad.”

After flipping the lock, I yank open the door. My mouth goes bone-dry when I see Journey standing at the threshold, his hand up as if he was getting ready to knock again.

“What do you want?” I demand, crossing my arms over my chest and blocking the entrance.

“Wren?”

“Who the hell else would it be?” I counter, my hackles rising.

Journey stares at me as if I’ve grown two heads, and unease begins to trickle in. He didn’t scare me when we initially met. Hell, I brought him home after only a few minutes in his company. But right now, under his current scrutiny, fear becomes real.

“You tell me,” he says quietly.

The panic coursing through my veins catapults me back in time, and I run to duck behind the couch.

“Wren?” the man calls out. “What the hell are you doing?”

Who’s Wren?

“My Daddy will hurt you,” I say, my voice small and wobbly.

Footsteps thud on the floor, and I curl into a ball as they get closer.

“Your Daddy?” he asks.

I nod frantically but don’t speak because my voice is stuck in my throat. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to swallow so I can make words come out.

“He’s scary, mister,” I croak. “Please, just go.”

“Wren, please,” he replies. “Come out of there and talk to me.”

“I’m not Wren!” I yell. “She left because she was scared.”

“She left?”

“Mister, please,” I plead. “Leave me alone.”

“Okay, okay. But…”

“He’s coming,” I tell him, hearing the sounds that warn me that Daddy’s home. “Don’t tell him where I’m at.”

“I won’t.” The man moves into my line of sight and smiles, but my fear isn’t eased. “Can you tell me your name before I go?”

I think about it for a moment and decide that it might be a good thing if someone else knows about me. If anything bad happens, maybe he can get help.

“Annie. My name’s Annie.”