Page 56 of Seizing Control: Part One

In a raspy whimper, I assert, “He needs me.”

“You can’t go with him,” the big man tells me. As his grip loosens on my neck, Slash lowers himself to a crouching position. When his forehead is level with mine, he locks eyes with me. A matching level of helplessness is etched in his handsome features, sorrow dulling his gaze. “It’s not safe.”

We’re both breathing hard.

Gulping for air.

Desperate for a solution that doesn’t exist right now.

“But he... he—” I hiccup, unable to mount a protest because I know it’s hopeless. As reality smacks me in the face, I sob, “This is my fault. He’s trying to s-save me. I don’t want him to save me… I just… want… him.” When hurt flashes across Slash’s face, the torment within me kicks up another notch. “I’m sorry, Carter... I don’t mean to hurt you.”

“I’m fine, duchess.”

“You’re not. Zeke hit you.” Although it kills me to mention her, I add. “Bebe?—”

Slash cuts me off. “—is a fuckin’ Maddison. She was planted by them, likely with Brutus’ help, to infiltrate the club.”

“No... but she’s?—”

“Slash!” Uncle Cass interjects. “Needa know basis only.”

The weight of yet another betrayal by my dad strips me of the ability to speak. Mind cartwheeling, I think back to the days I spent leaning on Bebe as I dealt with my miscarriage. I remember the whiplash I’d get from her hot and cold mood swings. The guilt I felt at hogging Slash’s attention. All the times I tried to push him toward her, even as I felt like she wasn’t good enough for him.

My pain at their connection.

My jealousy that they had each other.

It was all lies.

And part of me instinctively knew that.

In the same way I ignored my intuition over Alex, I did the same thing with Bebe.

Something about her never sat right with me.

Yet, I dug my heels in and forced myself to ignore my misgivings.

Now, Slash might be having a baby with her...

All the bad choices I’ve made, the treachery that surrounds me, the hurt that continues to strike at the heart of my existence, hit me. One after the other. Like a punch to the gut, I’m inundated with my failures. Smacked in the face with disloyalty. Flayed to pieces by the never-ending cruelty of life. The walls close in. My fingers itch to hold a razor. I listen with half an ear as some of the club brothers enter the chapel and demand to know what’s happening. Slash asks me about Sander’s injuries. On autopilot, I tell him the truth about Dad’s involvement in that horror as well. When Crystal’s long-buried links to the Trinity are revealed, I manage to maintain a façade of normalcy while I question how it affects the Shamrocks.

On the outside, I’m obviously shocked but functioning.

Inside, my soul has shattered to a million pieces, and my brain has activated a total shutdown while it works out how to stop me from completely imploding. The hermetically sealed vaults full of unresolved suffering that I keep hidden from everyone, the secrets I concealed in the dark recesses of my mind, even the ones that I’ve kept under lock and key since the day my mum died, are peeking out of their various boxes. Like sneaky kids bored with evading their sitter, they wave at me, beckoning me to finally acknowledge their wicked intentions.

I blow out a sharp exhale.

Straighten my shoulders.

Uncurl Slash’s fingers from my throat, one at a time.

As various long-term traumas aim to knock me to my knees, I falter. Haunted by the ghostly feeling of my man-bunned saviour’s hand collaring my neck, I set my earthly desires adrift. Bereft of Zeke’s innate domination. Unanchored by the loss of Slash’s weighty wisdom, my broken psyche turns into a maelstrom.

What is my next move?

Steeling my shaky resolve, I try to ignore my guilt over Zeke’s predicament.

Tormented by what ifs, I attempt to formulate a plan.

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