My Maddie (Hades Hangmen #8) - Tillie Cole Page 0,118
find something to remove the fucked up thoughts from my screwed-up mind.
Tossing my cut on over my shirt, I threw my hand up in a wave and left the garage. Zane followed. “Why you wanting out of AK’s so bad?” I asked my best friend.
Zane eyed me weird. That meant one fucking thing. Saffie. My heart started fucking pounding, preparing myself for what he’d say. I saw his eyes drop and I fucking knew. “She’s got that fucking symbol brand, doesn’t she?”
Zane finally fucking met my eyes. He nodded. My body fucking set alight. For a moment I believed I knew what Flame meant, when he talked of flames in his blood. I was his brother, the fucking snakes bit me too. I was a Cade. If Flame had fire in his blood, then so the fuck did I.
“She’s having real fucked up nightmares lately, screaming and needing to be restrained by Phebe again.” Rage, that’s what I felt. Rage so strong it knocked the fucking wind straight out of my lungs. I wanted to go to her, fucking sit outside her cabin so I knew she’d be safe. Then I thought of all the fucking sluts that I’d been with lately. The sluts whose faces all blurred into hers, all fucking blondes. All when I was fucked off my face on coke and Jack. I was no good for Saffie. I wasn’t even worthy to be around her.
“Who are these cunts?” I snapped at Zane, and then fucking punched the wooden fence of the garage beside my bike. I punched a hole straight through the panel. My knuckles were bleeding when I pulled back my hand. I needed a hit. I needed a hit so fucking bad, but I was out. My skin jumped. I just needed to get the fuck away from Zane, from the garage, and get my shit together. “I’m out,” I said, and jumped on my bike.
“I gotta get back to the clubhouse. You coming by later?” Zane asked. I nodded and waited until Zane had ridden the fuck off before I pulled out onto the road. I gunned it down the road, away from the compound… away from Saffie, who I wanted to grab and run the fuck away with, so I could keep her safe. I gritted my teeth against the wind, imagining her in that motherfucking cage, symbol on her hip, and mouth sewn shut. What the fuck had actually happened to her? What the fuck had they done to her in that cult, then the cartel, then motherfucking Klan… and now this group of pricks we couldn’t find out shit about?
I pulled harder on the accelerator until my handlebars shook. Trees rushed past in a blur. I let my mind clear itself of the men I’d killed, of Slash’s face that haunted my motherfucking life, and Saffie tied up in a cage, her eyes dead as some old fucker raped her, and her mouth sewn up so she couldn’t scream.
I was going so fast that the roar I released was stolen by the wind.
It took me ten minutes less to reach the secluded ranch than it normally did. As soon as I parked my bike in the scrap yard, I jumped off the saddle and hammered on the door. Chris answered and immediately raised his eyebrows.
“You’re here sooner than I thought.” He wasn’t talking about minutes or hours; he was talking fucking days. I pushed past him. I was a getting to be fucking unit. I lifted weights every fucking day. Chris was short and skinny. He never got in my way, no matter how much younger I was than him. “Gotta say, when Rudge sent you my way, I thought it’d be once in a fucking blue moon you came by, like that English fucker. You know, for a bit of coke to unwind. Not this never-ending tap. My fucking bank account’s starting to like you, mohawk.” I walked into his shit tip of a kitchen. He lived in a fucking crack den, disguised as a scrap yard, in the middle of nowhere.
Turning, I closed my eyes. “I need something stronger. The shit you’ve been giving me isn’t lasting long enough. It’s too fucking weak.” I snapped my eyes open and narrowed them on Chris. I stepped toward him. He shuffled back. I could practically smell the fear on him. “You ain’t fucking me over, right? I don’t fucking appreciate you fucking me around with half strength shit.”