match.
A door bangs open in the kitchen and Reaper appears, dragging a hand down his face. He sees us and ignores the mess on the floor and the bloody knife in my hand. “How is she?” I ask, waiting for him to finally kill me.
“She’s on bedrest for the remainder of her pregnancy, but she’s okay. The baby is healthy.”
“Oh, that’s great, Reaper,” Skirt exhales.
“I’m so glad she’s alright.” Juliette peeps from Tool’s lap as she holds a pack of ice against his cheek.
Pussy. I barely hit him.
“Tongue, it’s time we talk about your punishment,” Reaper states.
“What? No! It was an accident, you can’t,” Daphne begins to cry again as she comes to my defense. “That’s not fair, when you wouldn’t listen! You drove him to break!” She shoves Reaper’s chest.
I tug Daphne away from Reaper and pass her off to Patrick, who holds her still when he understands what I’m about to do.
“No, you can’t. Please,” she begs.
“I’ll be alright, Comet. I got you now, remember? Pain is a momentary, necessary evil to move on in life.” I kiss her forehead just as Reaper opens the Church doors to allow me in.
“Tool, start the fire and heat the poker.”
My skin tingles with awareness, a blanket of fear cloaking my skin as the memories of being burnt hundreds of times washes over me. I hold my breath as I step inside the room.
He can’t cut me because I’ll like it.
Burning me is the only thing he can do, because it’s one of the only things I fear.
“You’d do that to him? You’d burn him, knowing that’s what his Uncle did? Do you hate him that much?” I lift my body, kicking my legs up to try and get away from Patrick, but his hold on my arms is too strong. “Let go of me!” I scream through a closed jaw.
I thrash and pull against Patrick with all my might until I’m as far as I can go and just a hair away from Reaper’s face. “This cannot be undone. You will not be able to fix this. Whatever shred of hope there is between the club and Tongue will be gone, and you will lose him.”
Reaper’s dark eyes dance between mine. I can tell he is contemplating what I’m saying. A variety of emotions flicker across his face. His shaggy, dirty blonde hair hangs in his face, and when he makes his decision, he thrusts his shoulders back, lifts his chin, and holds out his hand. “Tool, is the poker ready?” he asks, sending me into a blind rage.
“No!” The word is a broken scream leaving the depths of my chest. “I won’t let you.” I yank against Patrick, who is holding on tighter than I expected him to be.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers in my ear, only causing more anger to boil away what’s left of my soft, understanding nature.
“He will never forgive you,” I whisper, my chin wobbling as I try to hold back my emotions. I look from Tool to Tongue, who has already whipped his shirt off and tossed it on the ground. He’s kneeling on the floor, hands clasped behind his back and his head bowed.
He’s defeated. He has already given up. Why isn’t he fighting? Why won’t he stand up for himself?
Tool takes the poker out of the fire, the wood crackling as if it is spitting hot hatred and sparking across the floor from the hearth.
There it is.
The hesitation.
He doesn’t want to do it.
Tool spins the iron poker, watching the bright orange glow bright with heat. “Reaper… I don’t know.”
“Give me the goddamn poker! You think I’m happy about this? You think I want to do this? You think I don’t care? I have to uphold our law. We will get through it. We always do,” Reaper snaps.
Tool grudgingly holds out the poker and Reaper takes it from him. I can feel the heat of it caressing my skin like a hot summer’s breeze as he walks by.
I give one last effort to rip myself from Patrick. I stomp on his foot and slam my elbow into his ribs. He grunts and his breath leaves his lips in a hard whoosh puffing against the back of my neck. I run into the room and block Tongue with my body.
“Comet, it’s okay. Stand down. I’ll be fine.”
“I won’t let them hurt you.” My legs are spread, rocking right to left to be ready to attack Reaper. “I won’t let you hurt him.”
Reaper drags the hot