Page 103 of I Was Born Ruined (Death by Daybreak MC 1)
“Sin,” I start, but he's already shaking his head and turning away from me, running his fingers through his hair and then getting out a pack of cigarettes. I need to get him out of here, I think as he just stands there and smokes. But how? “Are you okay?”
“Can I have a minute, Gidge?” he snaps at me, and I frown.
“You're going to fuck me and then yell at me?” I ask, bending down to dig in my purse for some wipes. “Real classy, Colton.” He spins back to look at me, and sees me with the wipes in my hands, getting ready to clean up. I cock a brow. “Can I at least have a minute to clean up before you start yelling at me?”
He opens his mouth and then snaps it shut again.
“Fine, but I'm not going very far,” he snarls, moving over to the edge of the woods and leaning his shoulder against a tree. I wait for the span of a few breaths as he pulls out his phone, answering it with a noncommittal grunt.
Fucking finally, I think, grabbing the keys and unlocking the door to the cabin. I slip inside, taking a moment to slip in a tampon—best quickie cleanup tool ever—and pulling on a fresh pair of panties. The smell of blood stings my nose, and my nostrils flare as I take in Grey, slumped over in his chair, hands and ankles still bound, dirty brown blood all over his face and hands. He doesn't even look like he wants to live anymore, like the life's been sucked out of him. Knowing my dad did this, my brother, Crown, Beast, Grainger, Sin … I feel sick.
The smell is awful, like copper and urine, and it takes everything I have to cross between bars of shadow and moonlight to kneel by his side.
Why am I risking everything to save the son of the man who ordered my sisters raped and killed? Why? Why, why, why?
Because in Grey Wolfe, I see myself. He's the son of an empire he doesn't want. By saving him, I save myself. That's why I'm here. Because I don't want his blood on my hands. This isn’t for him; it’s for me. Even in my heroism, I’m intrinsically selfish.
“Hey,” I whisper, trying to ignore the delicious whisper of sex singing a siren song in my blood. Fucking Sin was mind-blowing. And I want more. I hate him, and I still want more. How screwed up is that? I must really hate myself. But I'm not going to be that girl anymore. “Grey.”
I snap his name off the end of my tongue like a whip, and he comes to, blinking bleary eyes up at me. He seems surprised to see me there, and then fear quickly overtakes his expression. He thinks I'm there to kill him.
Digging my fingers into the pocket of my jacket, I pull out the army knife that Queenie gave me when I was eleven, and start to undo his bindings. He's been strapped into the chair with plastic handcuffs, and holy fuck are they hard to cut. I think I nick us both a little as I dig into the plastic, but that's okay. If I have to wound us both to save our souls, that's alright.
It's what I have to do.
“What are you doing?” he asks me as his hands come free and his body slumps toward me, too weak to hold itself up. “You're going to get us both killed. Get the hell out of here.”
“Do you want to die?” I snap back at him, freeing his ankles and helping him to his feet. It's not easy. The kid—and wow, my perception is fucked because really, he's about a year older than me—can barely stand. He's been tied up for too long, beaten and tortured for too long.
“I know how these things work, remember?” he growls, gray eyes flashing. “You do this and the club will never stop hunting you.”
“I don't care,” I whisper back, even though my blood is filled with icy shards of fear. This is it. This is really it. This isn't sneaking out to a party, wearing pants my dad doesn't like, putting on too much lipstick … this isn't even getting a girl killed at church camp.
It's betrayal, pure and simple.
I can never come back from this. Never.
Hooking Grey’s arm over my shoulder, I help him toward the door, but our progress is excruciatingly slow, and I can feel my anxiety rising in waves. I'm honestly surprised Sin isn't in here already, sounding the alarm on my ass.
The fear in my heart peaks as the cabin door creaks open and a figure walks in, tall and imposing and wearing a healthy frown. But it's not Sin, it's Crown.
“What the fuck are you doing, Gidge?” he asks, his voice like ice. I stare at him, and for the first time in forever, I'm really and truly scared. Reaching into my jacket pocket, I grab Posey's tangerine colored Taser. She bought it when one of her exes started stalking her, but .. the club took care of him real quick. His body was found floating in Bay Creek, behind a cluster of apartment buildings. No leads, the cops don't care about some deadbeat, low-grade drug dealer. Heh. Pretty sure he used to work for the club, too. I mean, he wasn't part of the club, just a paid lackey, but still.
