Page 57 of I Was Born Ruined (Death by Daybreak MC 1)
“His—” That's all Cade manages to say before it dawns on him and he whips around to face me, brown eyes widening, fingers raking through the silky rust-red strands of his hair. He looks at me like I'm the monster. “You're Gidge?” It comes out like an insult.
“Gidget,” I correct, making sure to enunciate the T. I'm shaky and weak all over, and I can still see starbursts in my vision. Did I just have an orgasm? Seriously? I have no idea, but it felt really, really fucking good. Grainger just stares at me like I'm the goddamn anti-Christ while I turn and snort up a second white line.
The two men watch me as I back up, wiping my arm under my nose and trying to resist the siren song I've just discovered, beckoning me toward a cliff of very sharp, very deadly rocks. The club, these men, the sex, the booze, the drugs …
I move past them both and out into the hall, only to run right into Cat.
He, too, looks at me like he's never seen me before.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snaps at me, but there's literally nothing in this world he can take from me that matters, so I'm not scared. Fear implies that there's something to be lost, something that can't be gotten back. That's what fear really is, the gut-wrenching reality of discovering that not all wrongs can be righted, not all broken things can be fixed. So I'm not afraid because I just don't care to be.
“I'm here to party,” I tell him, and the way he looks at me then, there's a disconnect. He doesn't look at me like I'm his daughter anymore, but like I'm just another member of his stupid club.
“Suit yourself,” he growls, pushing past me and heading down the hall. Crown follows along behind him, but stops when he sees me standing there, looking me over with a strange mixture of disappointment and shattered expectations, like this is the last place he ever wanted to see me. I remember all those nights of Sin saving us from this mess, whisking us away to join the real world, helping with homework and making dinner and …
I throw a quick glance over my shoulder and see the youngest member of the club standing there with his hands curled into fists, his eyes focused on a torn, faded poster that’s practically plastered to the wall.
This is not where Sin wanted me to end up.
Glancing back at Crown, I can see from his expression that it’s not where he wanted me to end up either.
Too bad. I didn’t want my sisters to end up sleeping cold and buried six feet under, but that’s what happened. Life sucks. Don’t I have a right to seek my own oblivion? After all, these men are here for a reason, and let’s be frank: it’s not to make an honest living. They’re as twisted, as broken as I am.
“Gidget,” Crown starts, and I can already hear the beginning of a lecture lingering on his lips. His moss green eyes bore holes into me, but I don’t flinch. I’m not afraid of the Death by Daybreak VP. Lesser men have crumbled under that gaze. But me, I’m young, dumb, and broken. I don’t care enough to be scared. “Why don’t you have Sin take you home?”
“I don't want to go home,” I tell him, and I've never been more serious about anything in my life. Our eyes meet, and there's a challenge in his that comes crashing right up against the challenge in mine. I'm not going anywhere.
“As the Vice President,” Crown starts, and I feel my hackles go up, “I can decide who's allowed on club property and who isn't. I'm kicking you out.” Grainger appears in the hallway behind me as I curl my hands into tight fists, mimicking Sin’s tense posture. Crown lifts his head to look at the two of them, and the way his full mouth curves into a frown is almost scary. “What the hell are you two doing letting her run around here like this?”
“Letting me run around?” I echo, because I'm starting to get furious, like a caged animal. I just want out. Out, out, out. And my claws are unsheathed, and my body is quivering, and I'm just righteously pissed off. “You don't let me do anything; I make my own choices.” I move to shove past him, and he grabs me.
“Crown.” It's my dad's voice, footsteps booming as he storms back down the hallway. I don’t look back to see his expression, but I can hear the dramatic sigh. “Don’t even bother with her. We got better things to do. If the little twit wants to be a whore when she grows up, let her.”
