Doc (Ruthless Kings MC #7) - K.L. Savage Page 0,73

she called to clean up Dad’s body, I think she might be disappointed with me, but she doesn’t understand the need I have to cut.

And not cut to save.

Cut for pain.

Like father like son, and I’m afraid he’s been living inside me for years, clawing at my soul. I never wanted to be like him, I wanted to be better.

And I am in certain ways, but in others I’m just like him.

It should terrify me, but it doesn’t.

I’m not going to inflict pain unless it is truly deserved. I’m not ever going to cut an innocent child. I guess that’s the difference. He seeped his evil with every cut, and now with every good act I do, the evil prevails, burning the scars and wanting me to do more than the good that raised me.

Speaking of the good that raised me, I need to call my mom and see how she’s doing and move her here so I can take care of her. Reaper won’t mind.

“Cauterize the wounds. Check him over for any other cuts that might need stitches. Church. Two hours. We come up with a plan. I want fucking revenge. I want to fucking taste it.”

“What if Maximo is behind it?” I ask him as we walk out of the playroom and into the treatment room where everyone is resting.

Almost everyone. Little baby Joey is crying at the top of her lungs, and Skirt is doing his best to rock her to sleep.

Reaper doesn’t stop to speak to me. He wraps an arm around Sarah’s waist as she posts up against the wall with her hand against her chest. “If Maximo is behind it, I’ll fucking rip his spine out and watch him collapse to the floor.” Reaper’s boots pound against the stairs and as the basement door groans open, he stops climbing. “And after that, I’ll reach between his shoulder blades and smash his heart with my bare hands. No one fucks with me or my club!” Reaper slams door to end the threat and conversation.

Let’s hope war doesn’t come down between us and the mafia.

A battle between allies is the last thing we need.

I really don’t want to go out tonight, but Brody, a guy in my Trig class, begged me to come to his party. He’s my best friend in the entire world, but school kicked my ass, and I just want to go home and sleep. I stayed up all night studying and still failed the test. If I don’t pass the final, I won’t be graduating, and I’ll have to take the class again no matter the tutors, no matter the studying.

It’s frustrating.

All I want to do is go to my apartment, get my ice cream out, and put on a Netflix show.

Maybe curse.

Scream.

And punch.

Then sleep for days. Then I’ll go home to Ruthless and see where I can find myself. Maybe Tool can get me a job at Kings’ Club, and I can take a break from school and focus on me. Everyone thinks I’m okay. Everyone thinks I’ve gotten over what’s happened, but really, I know how to put a smile on my face and call it a day. But every time I close my eyes, I see them.

The Ruthless Kings of Atlantic City, New Jersey.

I imagine them throwing me in the basement, without food, without water, chained like a dog, threatening to fuck me, use me. It was dark down there, so cold and wet. It smelled like piss and shit, rain and mud.

Then, when I saw sunlight for the first time in weeks, maybe it was months? I can’t remember, I thought I was going to go blind it was so bright. If I think hard enough, I can feel the heat penetrating my cornea.

Ruthless Kings Jersey damned me, but the Ruthless Kings Vegas saved me.

And all I want to do is go home to them. I’m out of my element in college. I’m not ready. After tonight, after this party, I’m going to pack my things, take a leave of absence from school, and give myself time to heal.

If I ever do.

I might have been saved, but it might be too late for me; my soul might be stuck behind Hell’s gates.

I give myself one last look-over in the full-length mirror I have propped against the floor. I’m unimpressed. Black skinny jeans, red tank top, white cardigan.

Yeah, I’m ready to really throw down. Jeez, I’m a sad excuse for a college girl. “Whatever,” I say to my reflection