Tyrant (Kings of Carnage MC: Alabama #1)

Chapter 17

Blair

I ’ve just gotten out of the shower, put one of Tyrant’s hoodies on along with some cotton shorts, and am carefully brushing out my long, damp hair when I hear the door open and close. It’s still loud outside the room, more so when the door briefly opens. I never unmuted the television, just hopped in for a quick shower before the beefy biker gets back and we have a chance to snuggle.

I’m glad I finally took the initiative and was straightforward with wanting him. This entire time, I’ve been going crazy inside, needing him to take things further again, but now I’m confident he was waiting on me. He was being the sweet man I know him as and allowing me the time I wasn’t aware I needed before pushing me further and having sex again. Only this time was much different compared to the first. It was soft, slow, sensual, and I feel remarkably closer to him now than I have in the past. We seemed to have pushed beyond some sort of invisible barrier that had been surrounding us.

With an amused chuckle, I set the brush down to check on Tyrant. Twilah Jane and the other girls have told me all about some of the fights and other bits of drama that have gone down in the club over the years. They only know about what happens here and never anything business-related. I was appalled at first until I got used to being around them and the guys. Then I realized it’s just their personalities and there have been times in my life I’ve wanted to slap the snot out of someone as well. So once I came to terms with that, I began to find the stories more amusing than worrisome.

I guess this is the first one I’m privy to, and it has me shaking my head with a laugh. As long as everyone ends up being okay and eventually makes up, it doesn’t bother me. “Well, was it the bratty prospects?” I call as I step over the threshold. I don’t think they’re brats, but Tyrant always grumbles over them.

A gasp catches in my throat when I see him standing there, the absolute fury dancing in his gaze. “N-no,” I manage to choke out and his lips twist with an evil tilt.

“Did you truly think I wouldn’t find you? That I don’t know all? I’m the Profit !” His title leaves him on a hiss, sounding more like a snake resurrected through hellfire than a man I once admired. He shoots forward and I jump, attempting to jolt out of the way, but I’m too slow from being stunned. His hand catches the hair on the top of my head. His fingers close around a chunk, jerking me so forcefully, I lose my balance and he slams me to the ground.

Sobs wrack my body, my tears messy, and my pleas loud. I’ve forgotten everything. To be quiet. Obedient. To hold my emotions at bay and address him as the divine being he believes he is. “Don’t do this! Please, you don’t have to!” I attempt, for my words to fall on deaf ears.

He towers over my form, folded to the floor. “Biker slut! How dare you leave my home. And for what? To whore around with the local street trash? You will atone for this. I will make you. I don’t care if I have to lock you in the catacombs until your skin turns gray and the breath leaves your lungs, I will make you pay for this. You will not send my daughter to a life of shame because of your sinful choices.”

I want to struggle, to claw my way free. However, his hold on me is too strong. Some women are fighters, the type who won’t hesitate to ball up their hands and strike when needed. I’ve never been that type of woman. I’m not a fighter-physically, and through my time in the community, I’ve learned it wouldn’t matter if I were. Josef always wins. If you fight, it’s only worse. He has a community of people waiting on bated breath to do his bidding. His disciples chomping at the bit to do whatever they can to gain his favor.

I cry. My heart once full, breaking all over again. If he’s here, then my life is officially over. He’ll take me back with him and torture me with his atonements until I either die or take my own life. There will be no opportunity to escape again. He’ll lock me in chains if he has to, because no one goes against the Profit. Ever.

Lowering to the floor, he kneels as he shoves me on my back. “You never should’ve gone against me. Left me. I’m chosen, haven’t you realized? I’m the divine.”

A scoff escapes before I can hold it back. My eyes grow wide, stutters leaving my lips as he rears back in shock. I have no time to brace myself as he backhands me so hard I see stars. Everything is fuzzy, my head throbbing from the hit and his hold on my head. He’s never struck my face with such power before.

“You dare question me? I’m your judgment day, and it’s just arrived.” His hand slips from my hair, only for both of them to wrap around my throat. His grip tightens, squeezing, until my eyes bulge open. His hold is too tight—I can’t breathe. I’m not able to draw in even half a breath as I begin to struggle against his hold.

“N-no,” I choke, my feet kicking at the ground, attempting to make purchase, to escape. I’m too scatterbrained, panicking that I’ll never see my daughter again to truly put up a decent fight. I twist my head from side to side, but it’s no use. My fingers claw at his forearms, scratching and shoving, but he’s so much stronger than I am. He always kept me tucked away, with weak muscles, caring for our daughter. It was far too easy for him to control me, keeping me that way, but I was too blind to notice it to even attempt growing myself stronger.

The surroundings grow dark, my vision clouding as my body locks up. Warm fuzziness overtakes my entire body, hinting at what’s coming. I’m about to truly be set free. I will no longer have to worry, or hurt inside. I’ll meet HIM, my savior, and find my next calling in life.

Please hear me now. Protect Tyrant. Let him save my daughter. They need each other.

Everything goes black.