Page 2 of Savage Cravings

And I couldn’t put my finger on it, even if my bleak reality wasn’t anything new.

I couldn’t even remember a time when I thought of the world as a good place. Maybe before my mom abandoned me ten years ago because club life just got too hard for her, or maybe long before that.

We kept in contact on and off. The last time we spoke, she had just set foot in New Orleans, excited about this new chapter in her life, while I was stuck here.

I was always here.

Some days, it felt like I was only here to wait for the day I finally push Dad past the point of no return, and he’d make good on his threat to kill me.

I took the container from the bag and opened it. The aroma of cheese and tomato sauce hit my nose, and it should have made my mouth water and my stomach grumble.

Instead, I suddenly felt like puking.

Ignoring the food, I stood and headed to the window, looking out over the vast land surrounding the clubhouse.

The “clubhouse” was really an old mansion that Dad forcibly took from the former owners. Sometimes, I wondered if he had killed them here in the master bedroom, and that was why heletme have this room.

I shuddered and blinked, letting my gaze roam over what was once an extravagant garden. Now it was a dirt road not capable of sustaining life, ruined by all the motorcycle tracks. We were isolated enough that we didn’t have neighbors to complain about the noise from the constant partying, and far enough away from the city that we could usually identify any cops or FBI agents who showed up. Yet not too far, which allowed the club members to conduct their business in Chicago.

This house had been my hell since the day I was born.

The only thing my dad did right was give me the master bedroom.

There was more than enough space for me. It also had anen suitebathroom, which meant I didn’t have to leave this room for any reason.

Dad had been the president of the Heartless Saints MC for as long as I could remember. It was close to twenty years ago when he’d slaughtered the Irish mob and took over Chicago. That was when the club really gained its reputation. I had been a baby then, so this version of the club was all I’d ever really known.

Dad had risen to power the same way he did everything else.

Violently and mercilessly.

He thrust me into this world without considering how it might impact me or whether I wanted this life.

I didn’t.

Club life was rough.

Although Dad used to run this club with an iron fist, the old man was getting sloppy.

I hoped that one of these days, his sloppiness would take him out of my life for good.

And I wasn’t just saying that to say it.

I really wished someone would just kill him so I could leave this place.

I wasn’t always like this. I wasn’t always this cold. But somewhere along the way, Dad had destroyed any love or affection I felt for him, and with it, any compassion. It was hard to feel any of those things when I was just trying to survive.

I just didn’t care about him anymore.

I exhaled and watched as the glass in front of me fogged up.

The sun was just setting, but there was still enough light out to make out the property line.

I wondered how many times I’d dreamed about crossing that line and never looking back.

I stilled, blinking, when I thought I saw something move within the shadows.

My eyes narrowed on where I thought I saw movement across the open space.

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