Page 81 of I Was Born Ruined (Death by Daybreak MC 1)
Fuck.
Why couldn’t I just play the good, little submissive and bide my damn time?! I keep challenging Cat and instead of ignoring me like he used to, he’s taking me up on every single one.
“Crown,” Cat says, and his vice president comes to like he’s waking from a dream, tearing his eyes from me to look at his president. “You’re excused for the rest of the night.”
“Sir?” Crown asks, his voice low and cautious. When he looks back at me, I can see in his gaze that he doesn’t want to leave. He knows as well as I do that as soon as he walks out of that door, things are going to get bad for me.
“Gaz and I will be here all night. We’ll be fine until Sin gets here in the morning. Go home.” Crown pauses for a moment. It’s just a split-second, but Cat notices, and his face tightens, the deep wrinkles on his forehead pulling taut. He saw, and he doesn’t like it.
Unfortunately for me, Crown’s hesitation is just enough to piss Cat off, but not long enough to make any difference in my fate. With one, last look in my direction, the Death by Daybreak VP steps back, turns, and heads for the front door, locking it behind him.
My focus returns to Cat. Gaz is a leashed dog; he won’t lunge unless our father sends him for my throat.
“Apologize to your mother and hand over the book,” he repeats, voice as cold as ice. He smells like leather and motor oil, a smell that used to comfort me. Once upon a time, I saw my father and his men as heroes, knights in black ready to fend off a dragon. In reality, they were tempting the dragon to our doorsteps. In reality, they breathe just as much fire, flay just as much skin.
Apologize, my mind whispers as I move my gaze from Cat to Nellie. She’s staring at me with wide blue eyes, her lips quivering as she fights back tears. I should feel sorry for her. Really, I should. But then I remember her fucking club members in front of me, shooting up with a needle while I cried and reached out for her. No, no, I don’t feel sorry for her at all.
“I’m not sorry,” I say, and already, I’m kicking myself, wondering how far I can push Cat before he gives in and wraps his big, hairy hands around my throat. Some part of me wonders if I’m suicidal, if I’d like that, having the choice to live taken out of my hands and put into someone else’s. How nice would that be, getting a way out without having to make a decision, a leap of faith, without having to pull the trigger on myself. “The only thing I’m sorry for is being born to the two of you.”
Gaz moves into the kitchen before Cat can stop him, hauls back, and hits me as hard as he can with his fist. The only blessing is that I drop Queenie’s cookbook and it slides under the refrigerator, briefly saved from harm.
Pain lances through my jaw as my teeth crash together, agony tearing up the inside of my skull. Blood is already pouring down from my nostrils; I taste crimson on my lips.
“You fucking whore,” Gaz snarls, as I smirk up at him, cradling the side of my face with my hand and daring him to hit me again. What do I have to lose anyway? At least if I die here, I won’t have to kill Grey. If I die here, I can die clean.
“Always with the trashy, misogynist insults. Don’t you have anything better to throw at me than that?”
My brother steps forward and grabs me by the front of my shirt, rending the fabric and throwing me as hard as he can into the fridge. My back hits the stainless steel and my breath rushes out of me. On instinct, I try to suck in some fresh oxygen, but he’s hitting me in the stomach with a closed fist. The lack of air covers up the pain. It’s hard to feel when you can’t breathe.
Meanwhile, Nellie screams and buries her face in Cat’s jacket.
But she doesn’t try to stop her son.
And neither does Cat.
Gaz throws me to the floor, and I land right where Queenie lay dying, my eyes staring at the crack under the pantry door, where all the blood oozed in. Is this what she saw in her last split-second of life, my face peering out at her from underneath?
A swift kick takes me in the stomach before fingers wrap in my hair, raising me up to my knees as my scalp burns. But I’m not completely helpless. I punch Gaz in the balls as hard as I can, and he lets out a satisfying grunt, paying me back with another hit to the face, one that’s so painful that I black out for a brief moment.
