War (Kings of Sin MC #2)

16. Death

CHAPTER 16

DEATH

No. No. No.

My head shakes frantically, horror streaking through me. “Ty—what does that mean?”

I jolt in my seat, trying to get to him. The ropes shave at my wrists, digging farther into my hands. “Say it wasn’t you,” I demand, my throat constricting, every muscle tensing. “Say it wasn’t you, Ty!” A sob catches in my chest when he remains silent.

“Speak goddammit.”

He doesn’t deny it. Why isn’t he denying it? “Tell me.”

Standing there, he watches my destruction.

Tears bleed from my eyes like arteries opening up. “Say it wasn’t you,” I urge. “Please, Ty.”

Silence.

“Tyler!” I scream.

The worn threads tethering us snap in my brain.

Rip. Rip. Rip.

It’s all too much. Too silent. Too excruciating. Too real.

Pain swallows me whole as the horrifying realization sits like a boulder on my chest.

“She looked just like you in her final moment,” he finally says, his words rupturing through the center of my being. Cracking me wide open.

“Stop.” Thoughts wage war in my mind. “No, it couldn’t have been.” I sob. “You bastard! You fucking bastard!”

No…please no…

Agony grips it’s cold, unforgiving hands around me, squeezing. I’m dying.

“You killed her. It was you.” This can’t be real. I’m trapped in a nightmare and can’t wake up. “No…” I sob as the world around me falls into darkness. I thrash and tug at my restraints, an ache for violence building inside. I need to be free.

“She wasn’t supposed to be there.”

Rip. Rip. Rip.

Hurting. Killing. Destroying.

“Stop.”

“She asked for a ride home. Drank too much. I told her to wait in the truck. I was going to get Carver to take her, but I got distracted and forgot.”

Bastard .

Harley .

Oh god.

It’s too painful.

Kill me.

Bending down before me, he grasps my cheeks. The touch burns. The man before me is not a man at all. He’s the fucking devil in carnate.

“Then Jericho texted saying he could meet. I’d been waiting for this meet. Those cunts think they’re above me. He kept me waiting for weeks.”

He skims his thumb over my bottom lip absentmindedly, lost to his memories. “I was wasted and thought the truck would be less likely to attract unwanted attention from cops.”

That’s why Jericho said Tyler looked shocked. He didn’t know she was there.

“She must have fallen asleep waiting.” He shrugs.

“She trusted you,” I whimper. “You were a brother to her—a protector. You disgust me.”

“Don’t you think I know that!” he booms. “I didn’t expect her to act like a fucking wild cat ! She was in a frenzy and fucking shot Jericho Cox. She ruined everything I was working toward.”

“She was a kid. It was Harley, Ty. Harley .”

Her image blazes into my mind. How confused she must have felt.

“I was so fucking angry.” He gets to his feet, scrubbing his hands down his face. “One minute, I was yelling. The next, I was squeezing her throat, my fingers digging into her flesh.” An unnatural wail slashes through the air as my heart disintegrates. “I felt her fucking pulse slow against my thumb. Her eyes were wide and shocked, the red veins bursting the harder I squeezed. Then she just stopped. Her body stilled under mine.”

“Stop! Please stop! Oh god…”

“You wanted answers, here they are.” He rumbles, the veins in his neck bulging. “I didn’t even feel her nails shredding my shoulders as I took her life.” He yanks down the neck of his shirt over his shoulder, turning to show me the thin white lines there. Memories of him shirtless the night after she died, seeing the claw marks and putting them down to Jenna…Vomit chases up my throat and spills from my lips, puddling on the carpet at my feet.

“She was a fighter. Like you. Right to the end.” He yanks my heart straight through the bones of my ribcage. He sounds proud. I hate him with every fiber of my being.

“It was an accident, Princess.”

“It was murder, you son of a bitch,” I snarl. “How could you just be okay with what you did? I came to you looking for her.”

“I couldn’t take it back. She was fucking dead. What was I supposed to do?” he yells, holding his hands out.

Cold, heartless devil.

“Own it! Tell me! You watched me unravel, Tyler.”

“Nope. You would have left me,” he states, like he’s talking about cheating or drinking too much on a night out. I shake my arms, trying to get free.

“I left you anyway.” I growl.

“You’re mine. You’ll never leave me again.” His palms clasp my head, and his lips crash against my mouth.

I hope it tastes like vomit, fucker.

Opening my lips, I snap my teeth out, capturing his bottom lip and biting down until the skin pops, bursting his blood into my mouth.

I was never his. I know that now.

“Arghhh.” He growls, pulling away. Wild eyes scan my face, his fingers dabbing at the injury I inflicted.

“Are you trying to turn me on, Princess?”

“Why her tattoo? How could you mutilate her like that?” I ask, distracting him from his arousal.

He blows out a puff of air, smacking a hand to his arm. “It’s just flesh, Princess. She was dead, what would she care?”

Rage turns my bones to cement. “Why?” I demand.

“I didn’t think they’d find her so soon, all right?” he barks, waving his hands around like a mad man. “I was hoping she’d be a Jane Doe. The tattoo would have led the cops straight to the club. I couldn’t have that. We were supposed to be getting married.”

Not only did he kill her, he left her to rot, praying we’d never know she was dead. “I’ll never forgive you for this.”

“Forgiveness is for the weak. I like the fire your hate gives you.” He smiles like he hasn’t just destroyed everything. “Harley didn’t feel it when I peeled the ink from her flesh…”—he points his finger at me—“but you will.” A flood of panic rushes through me, seeping all the way down to my bones.

Picking up his blade, he palms my thigh, pushing it open.

“What are you doing? Stop it,” I command, attempting to squeeze my thighs closed.

Raising his hand, he smacks me across the face. A sting spreads over my cheek. The force of it jars my shoulder, tugging at my wrist. The rope tears my flesh, soaking the binding with my blood. He grips my jaw. “Keep moving.” He threatens, stroking the blade down my panties. “My hand might slip giving you a new hole for me to fuck.”

“You said you loved me.” I sniffle.

“And I do. That’s why I want to keep a part of you.” A sharp puncture burns my skin. His steel blade cuts into my leg, tracing my tattoo. “You can scream, baby. You know I love the sound of your pain.”

I bare down with gritted teeth and close my eyes, begging for the torture to end. But I don’t scream. I won’t give him that. I focus on freeing my wrist, wiggling it past the rope using my blood as lubrication.

“It kills me to do this to you, but you know I don’t share, Princess. I will never allow you to be with another man.”

I battle the searing sting slashing my flesh. “Kill me and get it over with. I’m done listening to your bullshit.” Sweat breaks out across my forehead, and my breathing grows shallow.

“Don’t rush me,” he fumes. “I didn’t want this.” He waves the knife in my face, my blood staining the tip. “This is on you and fucking Harley.”

“Don’t say her name,” I warn, my eyes widening as my hand slips free.

Smirking, he rests his hands on my knees, getting in my face. “Or what?”

I rear my head back and bring it forward as hard as I can, my forehead crashing against the bridge of his nose. Adrenaline courses through me, numbing the pain. I yank my other hand free. He falls onto his back, clutching his face, the knife still in his grip. In a hurried blur, I wrench at the fastenings on my ankles, a wave of hope falling over me when they come loose.

Tyler mutters something incoherent and is up, rushing toward me. Picking up the chair, I throw it at him and bolt. I don’t stand a chance against him one on one. I need help. I need Callan.

My bare feet squish against the rotten carpet. The pounding of Tyler’s footfalls sound behind me, almost making me skid and fall. “Princess!” he roars. My breath flees my lungs when something hard hits me in the legs, knocking me into a stack of chairs.

I hit the wet floor, the chairs battering down on me. Turning onto my back, I shove them away and manage to brace for his approach. I kick out, my foot connecting with his junk. He doubles over, an “oomph” escaping his lips.

“Fucking bitch,” he splutters, phlegm spraying from his lips. Clawing my way to my feet, I race to the door he came through earlier. Glass clinks under my soles, tiny shards stabbing into the skin. I crash into a foyer, hitting the shell of what was once a slot machine in my haste.

“Hey!” I scream as a glow shines through a panel of half-boarded-up doors. Pushing myself forward, I smash my hands against the glass.

“Hey! Hey!”

“You can’t be in there, ma’am. This is private property.” A male informs me.

“Help me! Help me!” I hammer on the glass, checking over my shoulder for Tyler. The door suddenly gives way, and I fall forward, my knees and palms slapping the concrete outside.

“What the hell?” A man gasps, shining the flashlight down on me, a huge set of keys jangling from his belt. My eyes scoot past him to the security car behind him, its engine humming and door wide open.

“Who hurt you, ma’am? Are they inside?” I climb his leg, taking his offered hand. Worry lines pinch his features as he drags his gaze over me. My eyes dart back to see Tyler launching himself at us.

“No!” I flinch, holding up my arm. A glint of Tyler’s knife glimmers under the moon as he raises the weapon. The security guard startles, fumbling with his belt. It’s not fast enough.

Tyler buries the knife into the man’s stomach. The man falls against him, mouth agape, eyes wide. Tyler wraps an arm around him, heaving the blade free and plunging it back in. My feet move. Fight or flight. My ass hits the car seat and I slam the door closed before Tyler can register my movements. The key dangles from the ignition, and a sob scratches up my throat.

Shifting into reverse, I back the car up, jolting as Tyler jumps on the hood and smacks at the windshield with the hilt of his blade.

“Don’t you fucking leave me!” he roars. His eyes are feral, blood splatter soaks his face and hair.

“Die, you motherfucker!” I scream, moving the gear into drive. I slam my foot down, and my body jerks back into the seat. The weight of the car lurches forward, gaining rapid speed.

“Arghhh!” All my pain erupts, pouring from my lungs. Panic bathes his features. His body sways back and forth as he digs his fingers into the lip of the hood, trying to hold on. I stomp on the brakes, and he lifts from the hood, flying through the air like a bungee cord yanking him away. I flinch when he thuds to the asphalt and rolls a few feet before coming to a stop in a heap.

There’s no movement. No sound. Just the rushing of my heartbeat in my ears.

Darkness has stolen the sky, the moon casting a navy hue against the backdrop of my nightmare. The car lights beam against Tyler’s form. My body shakes from head to toe.

Silent seconds pass.

One.

Two.

Three.

“Run him over,” I say, my eyes squeezing closed. “Do it, Rogue.”

Run him over. Run him over. Run him over.

With a scream that lacerates my larynx, I punch the car forward, my eyes still shut.

One.

Two.

Three.

I spring them open at the last minute and swerve to the right, away from his body. The car fishtails onto a side street. I hold the wheel and straighten out, blowing out a breath as the car slows. With a look in the rearview, I slap against the steering wheel and continue to drive away. “Stupid. Stupid.”

Following the road signs, I end up back at the motel. I forgo Kitty’s car, instead heading straight to the compound for Callan.

Static blasts into the car, followed by clicking, and a voice comes through a radio on the passenger seat.

“Ed, did you find out why the lights are on?”

He’s dead .

“Ed?”

Grabbing the device, I fiddle with the switch until it goes silent and chuck it back onto the seat.

Pain pulses over my body. My gaze drops to my thigh, and my stomach roils. That animal skinned me. There’s no ink left, just a weeping wound. Blood seeps between my legs, creating a warm puddle.

Pulling up to the gate, I slam the heel of my palm into the horn and tip out of the car onto the cold, hard asphalt. Stretches of darkness span all around me, the moon casting shadows that move with the trees. A gentle breeze disturbs the leaves and creaking branches. “Open up.” I attempt to call out, my voice straining. “Let me in, please,” I plead.

A silhouette peers down at me. A second later, the gates begin to open. Leaving the car, I heave myself up and run through the gap, bashing my fist against the clubhouse door until Diamond opens. Her face pales when she sees me.

“Jesus Christ. What the hell happened?”

“Where’s Callan?” I beg, my voice breaking.

“In the bar losing his damn mind. He’s getting everyone ready to search for you.” I propel past her, a couple brothers darting out of my way in the hall. I collapse through the bar’s doorway, my knees colliding with the wood floor. A whooshing of voices fills my ears. Hands grasp at me, lifting me to my feet. A sea of Kings’ cuts surrounds me.

“Rogue, baby, talk to us.” Daddy.

My head swims. I clutch onto the safety around me. Tears stream from my eyes. My lips part, but no sound comes out.

“Rogue? Move out of my way.” Callan.

The sea parts, and Callan fills my vision, a devasting slash of pain caught on his beautiful face. His scent engulfs me, and I cling to him.

“The casino,” I choke out, my tone hoarse, scratchy. A thick haze clogs my mind. “Tyler is at the old casino,” I manage before I fall into obscurity.

* * *

Muffled voices draw me from slumber. My eyelids are too heavy. A groan rumbles from my chest, the light assaulting my retinas.

“Rogue?” Callan’s voice caresses my ears, and I open my palm, shifting my arm to reach for him. Strong fingers entwine around mine.

“You’ve got to stop doing this to us,” he murmurs, brushing a hand over the top of my head. His lips press into my cheek, nose, lips.

The blinding white walls of the medical room in the clubhouse surround me. I look at our conjoined hands where bandages cover my wrists and a cotton sheet lays across my waist.

“Did you get him?” I ask, not sounding like myself. My voice is too deep. Too raw.

“No. He wasn’t there when we got there. We found the security guy.”

“Dead?” I ask, though I already know.

“Don’t think about that.” Movement from behind him catches my attention. Kitty chews on her nails, water glistening her eyes.

“He killed Harley,” I weep, sorrow and anger consuming me. “It was him. It was him this whole time.”

“We’re going to get him, Rogue. I promise you that. On my life, he will pay for everything he’s done.”

A knock on the door slices through the tense atmosphere. Callan’s teeth grit. Kitty swipes at her wet face and opens the door. Grease’s giant form fills the space.

“What is it?” Callan barks.

“You’re both going to want to come to see this.” His eyes meet Callan’s then slide to Kitty before he disappears down the hall. Looking over his shoulder to his sister, they both frown.

“Go,” I encourage them.

Kissing my hand, he places it on the bed and stands.

“We’ll be right back.”

As soon as they’re both out the door, the silence closes in on me, stealing the air from my lungs.

I can’t stay here.

I sit up, tugging at my arm. A needle nursing fluid through an IV in my other hand makes me stop. I peel the tape off and drag the needle from my vein, a crimson bubble forming around the entry sight. Shoving the blanket off my legs, I stare down at the blue hospital gown someone put me in. Bruises like a patchwork blanket mar the skin around a bandage on my thigh.

I don’t hurt, though.

I’m numb.

My head is light and woozy from whatever drugs the doctor fed me. Gripping the gurney’s edge, I carefully drop to the floor to find that my feet are wrapped in dressings. I take a step. There’s no pain, but it’s like walking on bubble wrap with the soles of my feet swollen.

As soon as I make it to the door, I pry it open and make my way toward the voices carrying from the bar. Rounding the corner, I grip the wall for support, my stomach dropping.

Fuck .

Jericho.

“So, what have I missed?”

He’s home.