Maybe my dad hasn't changed at all, if that's the man he entrusts to keep his wife and only surviving daughter safe?
The thing is … there aren't any souls on this earth who'd even think of challenging Beast. Born Catcher Coffey—isn't that a great name?—in Nashville, Tennessee, the man's a former MMA champion turned Death by Daybreak henchman. He's tall, wide, muscular, and covered in tattoos and piercings. Like, model for GQ level bad boy. One half of his head is buzzed short, the rest of his dirty blonde hair combed over to one side. With the beard, the nose ring, and the massive black and red eclipse tattoo on his right arm, he looks like a fucking beast.
A flutter takes over my belly and my breath catches a little. With five asshole bikers around me, I can only hope nobody notices.
“Beast, burn 'em,” Cat says, and then he's walking away—just like that.
Thing is, if this was it, the only punishment I'd get from him, I'd be happy with it. But this isn't over. Cat saves his dirty laundry for our home, not the clubhouse. And anyway, since he stopped the drugs and actually decided to step his ass up as leader of the Daybreakers, he's honed his patience to a fine point, one that seems specifically designed to drill me in the skull. He'll think of an awful punishment and hit me with it later.
“Cat,” I say, turning to follow his path as he walks between empty tables and meanders toward the back door, where the rest of the boys came in earlier. As soon as he twists the knob and opens it, I know at least one of the punishments he's rigged up to swing my way: he’s going to sic Gaz on me at some point.
My brother, Gaz, storms in, sees me and lets this look of pure rage flash over his features.
We lock eyes for a moment and it takes me what feels like forever to remember that once upon a time, we used to be friends. Once upon a time, before I realized that even if I was the princess in the fairytale, I was locked in a tower. And the four guards I'd thought were there to protect my honor? They were really monsters destined to destroy my glory.
“I'm gonna have a really fucking awful senior year with you four shadowing me all the goddamn time,” I snap, not looking at any of them and turning to head out the warehouse door.
“See you at breakfast,” Sin calls out, and I glance back to see Beast lift two tattooed fingers in acknowledgement.
Breakfast. Fuck.
If Sin thinks he'll be seeing Beast for breakfast then … they're on shift again.
These four assholes.
It's like sophomore year all the hell over again.“Thanks for the ride,” I snap sarcastically as I open the front door and find yet another Daybreaker in my mother's living room. Beast relieves him from babysitting duty at the same time my mother appears in the doorway to her fancy new kitchen, bought and paid for with blood money.
The whole thing makes me sick—twice as sick as the pot and booze that are just now starting to wear off. I wish I'd stolen two bottles of Jameson from the club's bar and drank them both. Maybe then I'd be in a coma instead of standing here watching my mother look at me like I'm some kind of club whore—like she used to be.
“Are you hungry, baby?” she asks, trying to keep her voice even, neutral. It's a nice act, but I'm not about to fall for it. My dad might have an infamous temper; my mother's is legendary. Now, in her late forties with a soft smile and an apron, she looks like the domestic sort. But I know the truth.
I've seen my mother fucking other men in the club while my dad plowed a groupie not ten feet from her. I've missed days of school because both she and Cat were too busy partying to take me. And I lost my sisters because of this awful life and all the awful strings attached to it.
“Don't act like you care,” I tell her and see her mouth tighten into a thin line.
I move past her and up the stairs, Beast following along behind me.
“You shouldn't treat your mama like that,” he tells me when I hit the second floor and pause, turning to look at him like he's stupid. We've been through this before. I know how dangerous Beast really is. He might have a warm Southern drawl and eyes the color of a robin's eggs, but he's just like all the rest of them—dangerous, unpredictable, deadly.
“Why are you up here?” I ask, and then pause when he reaches out and hooks an inked finger under the narrow strap of my top.
