Page 26 of Seizing Control: Part One

Hurrying to cover my tracks, I restart both engines before I leave the way I came.

Under the cover of darkness.

With nothing but regret in my heart...

The sound of a horn blaring rips me from the nightmare I’m caught within. I fight to stay upright as another truck rushes past me to use the on-ramp to the freeway. The back trailer ripples and shakes while the driver battles to keep it on the road. A blue SUV, one that’s spent its night’s parked inside my garage for the past six months, zips along behind the truck. I catch a glimpse of blonde hair in the beam of the headlights from the Harley following close behind her. As always, Wyatt is protecting his sister. Standing tall while the two men who profess to love her wilt beneath their egocentric desires.

In some respects, Venom and I are no better than Jenna.

We’re content to destroy Cherub in our quest to possess her whole heart.

For the umpteenth time, my parents and Nadia’s admonishments to share my duchess pop into my head. I swallow down the anger their advice causes. The bitterness burns, another painful reproach. Settling for half Cherub’s heart isn’t a future I can countenance because the idea of being second best enrages me to the point of cruelty.

Breaking her feels like the only just alternative to her rejection of my love.

“Fuck,” I groan when nausea hits. Even the idea of ruining my duchess makes me sick. “I can’t do this.”

The desire to hide from the world becomes overwhelming. I need refuge from my sins and a safe harbour with the woman I love. We’ve ignored each other for long enough. Walked on eggshells to satisfy the demands of the club. Pretended that we didn’t indelibly cross the line the night of the Apologies to Medusa concert.

Fuelled by my need to see Cherub, I take three deep steadying breaths while the line of vehicles pass me by. Once I’m free of the filthy residue the memories of the worst night of my life always leaves in its wake, I rub my stomach, right over the patch of skin that was once marked by the long-healed scratches that I still feel to this day. My gut roils, bile flooding my mouth and undoing my efforts to regain control of myself. Again, I swallow it down as I battle the emptiness that’s stalked me since that day.

My son was murdered by his mother.

I killed her in return.

Her death is not enough to erase my failure.

Destiny seems determined to repeat the lesson I learned that day.

I won’t allow my duchess to fall victim to my ineptitude.

For Cherub, I’ll fight...

My demons.

And the ones that pursue her.

With that thought in the forefront of my mind, I pull back onto the on-ramp and speed along the freeway to catch up with Wyatt. He shoots me a look that I can’t make out in the dark when I pat the top of my helmet twice. After a definitive hesitation, he nods once before he pulls in front of his sister and slows her down. I use the camouflage of the trucks in the slow lane to move around her without being seen, then roll on the throttle to beat my duchess home.

The time has come to end the cold war between us.

My impatience is high as I wait for the electronic gates to slowly open. I pull into the garage thirty seconds before my duchess, and I’m forced to bite back a grin when she slams on the brakes aggressively at the sight of me. Her mood matches mine, and that can only bode well for my plan to end our impasse.

Coupled with her hasty exit from the compound and the speed with which she drove home, it’s obvious Venom has pushed her buttons. The way I left the compound has no doubt added to her mood too. My duchess has a temper that likes to slip its leash regularly. It’s been missing recently, another symptom of her general ennui toward life. The absence of her smart mouth and the unique brand of sass it delivers is almost as worrying as the cuts that mar her smooth flesh.

I’ve been forced to watch her soul wither for months.

No more.

Tonight, I declare my hand, once and for all.

When she cuts the engine, I dismount my bike. The scrape of the steel jiffy stand grazing along the concrete floor as I kick it into place is loud in the quiet garage. My boot buckles clang, the clinking chain that connects my Harley fob to my belt joins the symphony of sound that accompanies my approach.

Cherub doesn’t notice me advancing on her.

She’s too busy banging her forehead on the steering wheel.

I rap my knuckles on her window.

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