Page 18 of The First Cut
I’ve never wished for a fucking thing in my life, but right now, I wish we had more time. Time for me to figure shit out. Time for Melissa to spend with Millie before it’s too late.
When she pulls back and looks up at me, I can see the plea in her eyes.
I cup her jaw, my thumb brushing away a tear. “I’ve gotta go.”
Her shoulders drop, but she doesn’t argue. She just nods and turns to look out the window.
I leave, wishing I was the kind of man that could offer her words of comfort. But I won’t lie to her. She knows what kind of man I am. If she pushes, I’ll push back out of pure spite.
Still, as I straddle my bike and pull my helmet back on, I can’t help but wonder what kind of person Millie turned out to be. Isshe stubborn like her mom? Or maybe she’s a little odd like me. I almost smile at the thought.
I rev the engine and peel away from the curb, taking the scenic route back to the clubhouse. The farther I get from Melissa’s, the easier it is to breathe. But I can’t stop thinking about what she said, about all the things she’s gonna miss. Am I okay with missing them too? Letting some other guy to scare off her boyfriends, or walk her down the aisle?
And then I wonder—what if she never even gets the chance to do those things? What if foster care’s the last fucking straw, and she decides she’s done with this world because she’s got no one left?
I roll up to the gates with a snarl and wait for them to open. Once they do, I drive into the warehouse and kill the engine. Climbing off my bike, I pull my helmet off and head straight for the saloon, hoping I’ll find the answers at the bottom of a whiskey bottle.
Hours later, and still no answers, I head up to my room, put on a slasher flick, and jerk off to the soundtrack of blood-curling screams, reminding myself just how fucked-up I really am.
Chapter Five
Lola
Ijolt awake, heart pounding as my eyes dart around the dark room, wondering what the heck woke me up.
Pushing the throw blanket off, I get to my feet and look around the living room. I can just make out the end table next to the couch where I fell asleep, the book I’d been reading still on top of it with a candy wrapper between the pages acting as a bookmark.
I hear a noise and freeze, holding my breath as I listen. When I don’t hear anything else, I head toward the kitchen—where the knives are. I don’t know if someone’s actually in my house or if it’s just my brain playing tricks on me, but either way, I’ll feel a whole lot safer with a weapon in my hand.
It’s only as I step through the doorway that I notice a dim light. It takes me a second to realize that the light’s coming from the fridge—someone’s left the door open. Before I can react, a hand wraps around my throat and teeth bite my earlobe, making me yelp.
“You miss me, baby?” he slurs, the smell of alcohol on his breath so strong it makes my eyes water.
“Driller?” I choke out as he pulls me out of the kitchen, his grip on my throat making it hard to breathe..
Circling in front of me, he slams me into the wall.
“Were you expectin’someone else?” he snarls, pinning me in place.
“No, of course not. It’s just that everyone’s been looking for you.”
“An’ by ‘everyone’... you mean yourpreciousHavoc?”
Without warning, he backhands me across the face, his knuckles catching my eye.. I whimper, my eye throbbing from the impact. My only saving grace is that it wasn’t a punch because those hurt ten times worse.
“You need a fuckin’ reminder who you belong to, Lola? That it?”
He paws at my T-shirt, ripping it down the middle, exposing my chest. I turn my head and bite my lip to hold back both my tears and my cries for help—all they do is fuel him on.
His hands move to my arms, gripping them so hard I know I’ll be covered in bruises later. Dipping his head, he sucks one of my nipples into his mouth before flicking it with his tongue. I hold my breath until I start to feel lightheaded, and he savagely bites into the swell of my breast, ripping a scream from me that I have no chance of swallowing down.
“That’s it, baby. Only I can make you scream like that,” he groans as he grinds up against me. His hand slips between us and yanks at my underwear until it rips. I wince, biting my tongue as he strokes me before unfastening his jeans and pulling himself free.
The problem is, he’s not hard. I don’t know if it’s because of the alcohol or if I just don’t do it for him anymore. Either way, despite his best efforts, he can’t fuck me like he wants to. I’m sure he’ll settle for fucking me up instead. I brace for impact,praying that he sticks to what he’s been doing and leaves my stomach alone.
Surprising me, he shoves me aside instead. I catch myself before I fall and stumble into the kitchen. I scurry away, putting the island between us.
“You think Havoc gives a fuck 'bout you?” He shakes his head, looking at me with pity. I’ve given up trying to reason with him, especially where Havoc’s concerned.
