Page 79 of I Was Born Ruined (Death by Daybreak MC 1)
“Go to your room, Gidget, and keep your mouth shut.” His words are so harsh they burn.
Yanking my clothes on as fast I can, I turn and head back into the house, rushing up the stairs and locking myself in my room.
My heart is pounding as I slide to the floor and cover my ears with my hands.
I don’t want to hear the sound of that bike anymore. I don’t want to believe in bullshit.
And I know … that in my heart, I really have hit rock-bottom.
It’s then that I decide I’m going to kick off that stony shore and swim, swim as fast and hard as I can, until I’m oceans away from this ruin.
I might’ve been born ruined, but I don’t have to die that way.Tuesday night.
Nellie is cooking dinner, and Gaz is here. That’s not good. It’s quite clear in his gaze that he wants to kill me. I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.
“Your mom’s made spaghetti,” Cat says, standing in my door next to Crown. The vice president’s been watching me all day, looking at me with disapproving eyes, giving off little sighs of disappointment. Once, he opened his mouth to, I think, lecture me, but I shoved my noise-cancelling headphones over my ears and lay facing the wall.
Cat, though, I’m not allowed to ignore.
“So?” I quip, because even though Fem’s got a nub for a leg, and I had a gun pressed to my forehead, there’s no such thing as submission in my blood. As Eminem might say, I’ve got spite inside my DNA.
The sperm donor frowns and rubs his hand over his beard, studying me. I don’t like that, the calculating way he’s looking at me. Usually, Cat is punch first and ask questions later. Right now, it seems as if he’s testing my mettle. That’s fucking scary.
I lean back on my elbows and stare him down. If he thinks I’m afraid or that I might bolt, I’ll be handcuffed to my bed. As things stand, it’s going to be hard enough for me to get away from here. I’d be better off escaping during the school day maybe. Although that doesn’t solve the problem known as Grey Wolfe. Damn me for having a conscious. Life must be so much easier without one. Cat should know the answer to that.
“You know, all horses can be broken, Gidge.” Cat smiles at me, and goose bumps spring up across my skin. I wonder if my face is as white as my knuckles, gripping my black bedspread. From the direction of the bathroom, I can hear Fem snarling. He hates my fucking dad, even after being shot. He’d go for the throat if I hadn’t tied his leash to one of the bath’s clawed feet. “So,” he repeats my quip with a sneer, “get your ungrateful ass downstairs and sit at the dinner table with your family.”
“I don’t have any family left,” I whisper, but unfortunately—or maybe fortunately, considering the circumstances—Cat is already turning away, and he doesn’t hear me. Dinner. Please. After he put a gun to my head and pretended to pull the trigger? Mutilated my dog? Tried to force me to kill a kid? My instincts are on high-alert. Whatever happens tonight, it’s not just going to be a spaghetti dinner, that’s for fucking sure.
“Why do you insist on provoking him like that?” Crown asks, spreading his hands helplessly as I stand up and watch his eyes slide from my face, past my breasts, and come to rest on that tantalizing bit of skin between my tank top and my low-cut jeans. I slip my thumbs into the loops and let them slip just a little bit lower. Swear to god, I can see his nipples pebble beneath his white t-shirt.
“Why?” I query, raising both brows and doing my very best to forget how good those hands of his felt when they were exploring every inch of my body. Shit, it was pitch-black that night, but I feel like Crown memorized my every curve by touch alone. “Because he’s a monster. You know it, even if you won’t admit it.”
Crown’s face hardens, and he looks away sharply, his chocolate hair catching the light and shining with auburn highlights.
“He’s my president. I can’t let you talk about him like that, Gidget.”
“Really? But you can let him put a gun to my head and pull the trigger? You’d probably rush off to Costco to get him industrial cleaning supplies, so the prospects could clean that shit up.” Crown gives me a hard frown, and I feel this pang in my chest, wishing he was giving me that Cheshire Cat smile of his instead.
“I advised him against that stunt,” he starts, but I’ve already heard this excuse from Beast. I don’t care. I don’t care if the boys knew the gun was empty. They all stood there and watched me suffer at a bone-deep level. I’ve never believed they actually cared about me, that the sex we had that night meant anything more. And yet … the sense of disappointment I feel towards them is overwhelming, a tidal wave of blue-black water crashing down on my half-dead spirit.
