Page 3 of Tormented By Regret

“You think he did something to Bulldog and Elrik?”

“I think he’s fucked us all over, and he’s taken control of something that doesn’t belong to him.” He looked up at me and the look in his eye said it all. “Don’t you worry, Powertrain, he’ll pay his dues, I’ll make sure of it.”

Knuckles was in for a long time. There was nothing we could do to get him out. All we could do was make sure he was safe in there, but Knuckles was a survivor, and he had a run he had to do before he died. One that I knew he wouldn’t let anyone get in his way of accomplishing.

When I got out, I had no fucking clue about the shitstorm that was going on in the MC, let alone that it was being run by a fucking lunatic. Our loyalty was broken back then and the members didn’t trust each other easily. Many were divided on whether to hold Rancid as President or stay loyal to the Jameson name. Others you couldn’t even call brothers, they didn’t deserve the title as they were murderers and rapists brought in by Rancid. Rancid ran the club with fear more than respect, and he’d already ripped patches and spilled blood on several of our loyal members. There’d been rumors of him having hurt Bulldog, but nothing had been confirmed as of yet.

During that time, my brother and I bowed our heads and stayed. Not because we were scared, but because I couldn’t leave the empire Bulldog had built in the hands of a criminal. I worked with Hoax to hide passwords, move money around and keep what we could as safe as possible. Rancid would ask questions and I eluded him as much as possible. That didn’t take long to piss him off and soon he’d sent both Goshawk and I on a cash drop near Pennsylvania. There, when we least expected it, he ambushed us, sending his members on a killing spree. We’d become bounties for our own fucking club, and we had nowhere to go. We managed to get to a safehouse in Pittsburgh, where Lean the, the club VP had helped get us under the radar. At that time, all I could hope for was that Hoax would survive long enough to keep those funds out of Rancid’s hands and back to Jameson’s.

“Powertrain,” Jameson said my name, snapping me out of my memories.

“Yeah, Prez.”

“I need you to do a money run, I’ve got a bounty for you and afterwards I need you to pick up a package.”

I raised a brow giving him a questioning look and he nodded. “Macabre will give you a rundown of what I need from you. Just follow his direction.”

I stared at Macabre wondering what a Nomad could possibly give the club Treasurer any direction on, but I kept my mouth shut. It was whatever the Prez wanted, and I’d get my intel where I had to as long as I got the job done for him.

When Jameson came back, we all knew he’d returned for one thing and one thing only…vengeance. No one was safe from his wrath, especially not any member who hadn’t been named or approved of by his father. Anyone in hiding, paid the price too, and that included me and my brother. But Lean had vouched for us, letting Jameson know we were being hunted. Hoax, on his side, had backed me up on providing Jameson with the information I’d given him to hide. It was enough for Jameson to take us both back and he returned out rightful titles and patches. To say I was grateful to him, was an understatement.

Somewhere along the way he told me that if something truly belongs to you, it would always find a way back into your life. But sometimes fate could have a cruel sense of humor, bringing back those you once loved, in an unexpected way. Jameson called that a Tower moment, always flipping out that damn card at me. The burning inferno of that tower emblazoned in my memory, and it irked me, because I had this gut feeling that Jameson was inadvertently telling me my future. He had a way of doing that with the members which put us on edge, as if he knew what could happen at any given moment, but we didn’t. He’d just dropped clues on us in the most inconspicuous ways. We never did mention it to each other, but we all knew, and most of the time he was on point, which is why lately, I was cautious. I put extra security on everything, looking over my shoulder as if someone were watching my every move, and I had Hoax’s eyes on Lucy. Something was brewing and I could almost taste it, and it tasted bitter and full of hate.

WHISPER

Iwas lying in the woods, wet and shivering. The raven had shifted and left me for dead in the middle of nowhere. To make matters worse, I was naked. I sighed, slowly sitting up. My head throbbed and a throbbing on my side made me hunker over. As I looked down at myself, I saw gnarly marks across my stomach. Blood filled my fingertips and I hissed and cursed.

“Damned, raven. What did you do to me?” I uttered.

Most shifters had control over their animals, not me. Mine was as wild as I was. It did what it wanted, when it wanted. Leaving me for dead was just a fun add on.

I had recently started shifting. I didn’t have much to go on but what my mother had passed onto me, but I couldn’t ask her anymore. Mom was long gone, her mind eaten away by the Alzheimer's. Not even her raven could help her now. One day I feared she would shift and fly away, to never return. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Macabre. He’d been gone too long, and he’d missed out on her best years. My father eventually left, and I knew why he hadn’t returned, it was too much for him to bear. And now she sat in a Washington state hospital alone, because I couldn’t handle the panic attacks. They’d been too much for me, and I needed help. So I also ran away, but at least I was there if something happened. Some nights my raven would visit hers, and I’d get a glimpse of the visit, as if it too mourned her. She barely recognized me now, and I couldn’t ask about her raven or she’d go into shock. I tried once, and they had to subdue her with drugs, to stop from injuring herself. She cried for a week after that, probably the raven calling out for help. It was caged in her mind, unable to break free, but it would. I think it was only still here for me, but it would break away soon leaving me alone.

I flinched as the pain shot through my side. It continued to rain heavily, thunder lighting up the night sky, the rumble echoing soon after. I slowly stood and began my trudge down the path. My raven had at least left me for someone to find. I’d have to wait to turn again, once I got to the road.

“Damn bird, why must you be so stubborn? Why can’t you just stay out of trouble for once?”

I shivered and I felt the raven’s feathers ruffle along my skin, they were soft and warm. “You could have at least given me a warning.”

I hadn't fully connected with the bird. I avoided it at all costs, and it avoided me. It didn’t even speak to me directly, it was more like suggestive thoughts, or intrusions like I liked to put it. It was as if it were speaking over my subconscious, my human mind fighting for control over the raven’s voice. I wondered if my mother still spoke to her bird, or maybe the raven had taken control to ease her pain.

The moon hung heavy in the night sky, casting light on the worn path ahead. I could hear the sound of traffic on the highway up ahead. Closing my eyes, I tried to summon the raven. I focused on the image of its sleek silhouette which was etched in my mind. I felt that tingling sensation, like tiny sparks of electricity coursing through my veins. It started as a subtle ripple beneath my skin, then intensified into a wave of energy that swept over me, but then nothing happened.

“Come on,” I said to myself once again, trying to shift at will. “Work with me here.”

I felt that familiar sensation again, the shift at my fingertips and then once again, it faded.

What's wrong, Whisper? That voice echoed in my mind again, sharp and cawing like a raven's call. It always called me out on how I doubted myself, and it annoyed the fuck out of me.

“Leave me alone and just do what I tell you to.”

You know that’s not how it works. It cawed once again.

“I don’t care how it works, just take me home. You left me for dead.”

I could hear the echoing of its sharp laughter in my head, and I narrowed my eyes feeling the anger sweep through me.

I hated shifting, it was never pleasant for anybody. It also meant I had to acknowledge the bird’s existence and I didn’t want to. It consumed me, chained me, tied down my gypsy soul and I truly hated my curse. Shifting meant that my body contorts and twists, bones shifting and reforming with an otherworldly destruction of one body morphing into something it’s not. Feathers sprout from my flesh, their darkness consuming me as they spread across my body like a living shroud. I can always hear the sound of my own heartbeat, pounding in rhythm with the transformation, and I wondered if it would ever stop.

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