eyes.
“If this shit touches my girls.” The warning cracks between us, hanging in the air.
I seek Nox out, but he doesn’t look at me. My heart stops and pain lances across my chest. His cold shoulder hurts more than any beating I’ve ever taken.
The men move up the corridor with purpose and I start to follow, but Whizz grabs my arm.
“You stay.”
“I need to talk to Nox.”
Whizz shakes his head, and I sag against the wall, watching the brothers disappear around the corridor’s corner.
“He ain’t ready to listen to you. There ain’t nothing you can say.”
He’s probably right, but the words hurt all the same. I need to explain to him what happened, why I did what I did.
“There’s one way. Hand me over to Isaac.” The thought leaves a sour taste in my mouth, makes my stomach lurch with fear, but it might be the only way to save the man I love.
Whizz snorts at my assertion. “That’s not your decision. It’s in the club’s hands now.”
“Whizz—”
“You really think that’ll solve anything? The damage is already done. There’s no fucking easy way out of this. Wake up and smell the fucking blood because war is coming.”
Horror gnaws at my gut, his words physically hurting me as he leads me into the common room. He’s also right. There’s no restitution the Sons can offer that Isaac will accept. He’s a petty bastard when he wants to be.
Whizz orders me to sit at a table while he heads over to the bar and steps around the back of it. I tip my head back and stare at the grubby ceiling, my heart racing. I caused a war. If anything happens to any of these men, I’ll never forgive myself. If anything happens to Rav, Sasha will never forgive me.
I blink my tears away, trying to control my swirling emotions. My belly tightens as it churns. My mess has always been just that—mine. I’ve never dragged anyone into my shit before, and the guilt is eating me alive.
Whizz returns with a bottle of coke, which he slides in front of me.
I don’t drink it, even though my tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth. My stomach feels too unsettled, like anything I put in it would curdle.
For a while we sit in silence. Then Whizz asks, “How did you end up married to Blackwood?”
I give a mirthless chuckle. “Wrong place, wrong time.”
I was sixteen when I met him, barely legal. He was twenty-six. We met at a party I shouldn’t have been at and he was smitten from the moment he laid eyes on me. Things didn’t start off bad. They were good in the beginning. Isaac gave me everything I needed and more. I remember being elated that such a sophisticated man was showing me attention—attention I never found at home. He wore expensive suits, drove flash cars, showered me with gifts, clothes, anything I desired. I revelled in it like a pathetic child, needing praise.
But the good times didn’t last.
Men like Isaac can’t hide their true selves for long and Isaac couldn’t either. His darker side would sneak out, and I’d glimpse the demons that live inside him. I always made excuses for his behaviour, but there was no excusing the things he did. He had all the power in our relationship and I was powerless against a man who was the devil made flesh and blood. I had no friends, by that point I’d isolated myself from my family. I was trapped and for six years, I was the worst version of myself. I hated everything about me. I hated that I never stood up to him and when I did, I could do nothing to stop the beating. I hate that he used my body without my permission, as if he had the rights to it. I hated that he’d hurt me and then promise to never do it again.
I hated those lies the most.
Isaac Blackwood is a man with a dark soul and I’d stared into that darkness on more than one occasion. It terrified me. He terrified me.
And I despise that he did.
I never wanted to be this shrinking little girl, afraid of my shadow, but that’s what he made me.
Until I found the strength to leave. It took me a long time, but I still feel pride in myself for running. Life hasn’t been easy, but it’s better than the hell I lived with Isaac. I began to become the little girl I’d