Page 27 of I am Dressed in Sin (Death by Daybreak MC 2)
My father sniffles and leans back, running his hand over the lower half of his face. His rust-red eyes, the exact match to my own, watch me carefully.
“The hostage,” Cat clarifies, and I nod. He leans forward again, resting his elbows on his knees. He lowers his voice in just such a way that it’s meant to be read as a warning. “Tell me what happened that day, baby girl.”
I look my father dead in the face, and I lie with every ounce of conviction I have inside of me. This is life or death. Honesty is a privilege that I’m not afforded.
“You mean how did I get from your compound into the hands of the Grey Wolfe Mafia?” I spit back, putting emphasis on the compound and its apparent lack of security. It works, and I see several of the men behind my father shift uncomfortably. I make certain not to look at any of his officers, any of the four men that I shared my body with, that I’d gladly take to bed again and again and again, even against my better judgement. “Good question. I thought you’d be the one telling me that.” I exhale and push my hair back, wrapping my arms around my blanket-covered knees. “I remember Grainger taking me from the house to the compound.” I pause again and rub at the side of my head. If I give the story too easily or too quickly, then it’ll be obvious that I’m lying. It’s been three months since that day, and I’ve been through a lot. Although I remember each moment, each second that transpired, I probably wouldn’t under normal circumstances.
“Hurry it up,” Gaz snaps, and surprisingly, it’s freaking Grainger that reaches out and snatches my brother’s arm. He is, after all, the sergeant-at-arms which means it’s his job to keep the club members in line. He’s like a sheriff for the club while Crown is the VP, Sin is the travel agent, and Beast is the … executioner.
“Shut your fucking mouth and let her talk,” Cade hisses, his umber eyes darkening with a rage that I think I’m finally starting to understand. He releases my brother, but Gaz sneers at him in a way that tells me he won’t forget this moment if an opportunity arises later.
“I got bored, so I wandered up the hill and bummed a smoke from Sin …” I trail off again, like I’m thinking. “Pretty sure he told me to fuck off, and I told him to eat shit. Then I went into the woods and carved I Hate Cat into a tree.” My father snorts, but he isn’t displeased. There’s a certain level of defiance from me that he finds amusing. Maybe because it reminds him so much of himself—the person that he loves most in all the world. “Some guy came out of the trees and asked me my name. I just assumed he was a prospect or something, so I flipped him off. After that …” I swallow hard and throw the blankets back, revealing my ruined legs. “Pain.” My voice cracks, but I don’t have to fake it. The pain of that accident haunts me at night. More than once Grey had to wake me from a nightmare where I was bleeding to death on the pavement.
My father leans back in his chair again, crossing his arms over his chest as I touch my legs with shaky fingers, hating the shiny pink scars and the craggy skin. Crown very gently takes the blanket and puts it back over me.
“Fuck,” Cat murmurs as the other men wait patiently behind him. He rubs at his jaw for a moment. I don’t think for a split-second that he believes me so easily because he’s taking my word for it. He believes me because … my gaze shifts over to Crown’s.
He’s watching me oh so carefully, like a porcelain doll that might tumble off the shelf and break. It annoys the crap out of me, that expression. I’m not some fragile thing in need of rescue; I survived a lot. I was about to become the queen of the Grey Wolfe Mafia for fuck’s sake.
“What next?” Cat asks, which isn’t unexpected.
I recall those first few days, where I was bleeding and broken and barely conscious.
“I remember being tied to a chair. I remember … I had no skin on my legs.” I close my eyes. “My right shoulder was dislocated; I couldn’t feel my fingers.”
“Don’t look like you missed a meal to me,” Gaz murmurs, and I flick my eyes open just in time to see Grainge cuff him in the back of the head.
“You spoiled rotten brat,” he snarls, taking my brother by the nape. “Get out and take a walk, calm yourself down. How dare you let sibling rivalry get in the way of club business. You should be ashamed of yourself.” Grainger shoves my brother toward the door, and nobody stops him. Cat doesn’t even glance back. To be fair, even by club standards my brother was out of line.
