Page 45 of Queen of Anarchy (Dirty Broken Savages 2)

15

River

I wakeup somewhere soft and warm, and it takes my brain a second to make sense of what’s happening. At first, a panicked feeling grips my chest, and my head screams at me that this isn’t where I’m supposed to be. That something went wrong, that I got caught and it’s all over.

But as I force my dazed mind to focus, the rational part of my brain reminds me that what happened with Lorenzo was a long time ago. It’s the present, and I must be somewhere in the house with the Kings of Chaos.

I open my eyelids, which feel sticky and swollen. As I do, the now-familiar walls and ceiling of my room in their house swim into view. Relief crashes over me at the confirmation of where I am. It’s funny to think that I’m relieved to be here rather than anywhere else, but I am.

It was just a dream. Or a flashback. Or a nightmare. A nightmare of a nightmare.

Either way, everything that’s churning around in my head already happened. It’s in the past. My list is all crossed off.

The sound of shuffling alerts me to the fact that I’m not alone, and I turn my head to see all four of the men in the room with me. They stand near the bed, staring down at me with pinched, concerned looks on their faces. Even Knox looks worried, rather than cavalier and unhinged like usual.

I’m glad to see them. Having them here means I’m safe, and that feeling rises up before I can stop it or think about it too much. It’s just instinctive. I’m safe, and I’m not alone.

I can still feel the panic attack buzzing under my skin, though—that feeling like ants are crawling all over me. The flashback pounds inside my brain, and when I close my eyes again, I get a sudden image of that bathroom drenched in blood. My stomach churns threateningly.

I bolt up from the bed with a groan and rush to the bathroom, making it to the toilet in time to barf right into it instead of all over the floor.

The guys follow me. I can tell from their footsteps, which gather in the small room behind me. Cool, surprisingly gentle hands smooth my hair back, holding it out of the way while I lose the contents of my stomach. I think it’s Priest, just from the way he holds himself, but it could be any of them, and I’m grateful for it.

Eventually, the nausea passes, and I push myself back shakily.

Gage fills a cup in the sink and passes it to me. I gulp the water gratefully, my hands trembling around the glass. Getting up off the floor sounds like too much work, so I settle into a seated position with my back against the bathtub, breathing through my nose to try to calm myself down.

None of the guys speak, giving me space and time to work through this, thank fuck. But they stay, looking down at me like they’re waiting to hear if I’m alright or not.

It’s a hard question to answer.

They know what happened to me in vague terms, since I reminded Ivan why he was about to die when I faced off with him in their basement. But I’ve never really told them the specifics. I’ve never told them the whole story.

“I don’t know where to start,” I say, my voice raspy and rough.

“The beginning is usually a good place,” Ash points out quietly.

I glance up at him and remember how several hours ago, we were sitting on the kitchen floor together and he was telling me his story. So maybe he’s right.

At the beginning, then.

I take a deep breath and then another, looking back down at the bathroom’s shiny tile floor. This will be easier to say if I don’t have to look at them while I do it. I close my eyes, but then all I can see is my dad standing in the middle of the living room, refusing to look at me. It’s better than seeing Lorenzo’s caved in head, but not by much.

So I keep my eyes open instead.

“You asked me at the beginning of all this shit why I had such a vendetta against Ivan St. James,” I say, the words coming slowly.

“Something to do with your sister.” There’s a little line between Gage’s eyebrows, and he gazes at me intently. “You talked to him about her before you killed him.”

I nod. “Yeah. He…”Fuck, this is hard. I lick my lips and try again. “Ivan was the last name on a list of people who deserved everything they fucking got. When I was like sixteen, my dad pissed off a bunch of mafia men. He was a little fish in a big, shitty pond, and he tried to play out of his league. He crossed the wrong people, and they weren’t going to let that stand. And these people, they weren’t the types to just kill you when you fucked up. No, that would be too easy. Too quick, I guess. So to punish our dad, my sister Hannah and I were taken and held captive for… fuck, I don’t know. Six months or so, I guess. It was hard to keep track of the time when we were in there.”

I chance a glance up at the Kings, and they’re all still silent, their faces hard as they listen. I know my story will resonate with basically all of them. They all know what it’s like to be taken advantage of and hurt.

“It was supposed to be about punishing our dad, but they started to have fun while we were in there too. They abused us. Raped us, beat us. Anything they could do to make sure we didn’t know a single fucking second of peace, they did it. And they got off on it like the twisted fucks they were. My sister died in there. I tried to protect her, but they killed her anyway. Or, at least… I thought they did. Now I have no idea what to think.”

There’s silence for a bit when I’m done, everyone absorbing that. Even me.

Then Knox speaks up. “I wish we’d met you earlier so we could’ve helped you smoke those fuckers.” He grins at me, something a little closer to his usual feral expression passing over his face. “Not that you needed the help.”

---