Page 561 of Hell Hath No Fury
REDEEMED
MAX HENRY
CHAPTER ONE
Beth
Chaos erupts around me but all I can focus on is the smell. Metallic and warm—if warmth can carry a scent. I lift my hand to the mess, fingertips gingerly patting the gooey liquid spattered across my face.This was a person, a few seconds ago.I don’t dare look at what comes away on my hand, but I need to. If only to accept why it is I stand shaking in the foyer of the Fallen Aces clubhouse.
My home.
“What the fuck did you do?” Crackers pins Digits against the timber wall, forearm to his throat.
The same wall splashed with the evidence of a single moment in time. The display of how one person’s impulse can irrevocably change the path of a dozen lives.He fucking killed her.The asshole arguing his innocence beneath Crackers’ firm forearm murdered my closest friend in this place.
I glance down at my shaking palm, streaked with the red hues of a life ripped away in an instant.
It wasn’t her.Maybe I got it all wrong? I mean, everything happened so fast. Perhaps if I look, I’ll find Heather okay and huddling for safety? Maybe he missed.
With a deep, steadying breath, I lower my gaze from the chaos of the men as they bring the situation under control to the quiet activity on my right. Our lifer, Jo-Jo, bends to slide his arms beneath Heather’s limp form, tasked with the job of cleaning away the scene before anyone else is exposed to the uglytruth of how messy our chapter has become. I can’t see her face—his broad shoulder blocking the way—until he turns to carry her toward the back hall.
Her vacant eyes slide over me, unseeing and unresponsive. Her mouth hangs open, blood dripping from her sullen cheek, her nostril.
It hits me all at once: the lies, the manipulation, and how I could have donemore.I knew what Digits did to her, and yet I foolishly believed that she could manage his abuse on her own. She’s a powerhouse amongst the women, strength against the men.
All except him.
At least, shewas.
Fuck.
The rage and injustice at what I witnessed mere minutes ago rises, a torrent of grief and guilt surging through my chest and up my throat. I open my mouth and let it all out, screaming at the fucker the men manhandle out of the room. I’m not naïve—foolish. I know that my disgust won’t change a fucking thing, but damn it, it feels better to let that motherfucker know how much I hate him.
How little he means to the world.
The tones of my holler morph—more of a wail than the battle cry I’d hoped for, and yet the pressure doesn’t ease. No matter how hard I yell.
It grows.
“Babe.” Crackers turns, releasing Digits into the arms of a waiting member. “Hey.”
His strong hands circle my biceps, yet the despair doesn’t stop. Not straight away, anyway. It ebbs at his touch, a dark tide promising to return later.
When I’m alone.
“Hey.” His stare pierces mine, thick eyebrows raised as he dips his head to level our gaze. “You’re okay, babe. You’re here with me. Focus on me.”
I let him tug me into his arms, unsure what exactly I need to feel as though my world makes sense. Fuck—I know what the club does behind closed doors. I know who we are. But there’s a level of respect kept for us within the clubhouse walls. The dirt stays outside, away from innocent eyes.
Not today, though. Not tonight.
“Fuck. Talk to me, Beth.” Crackers’ large hand rubs a path down my back, and up again. “You’re worrying me.”
My sobs subside, hiccups that pull in lungfuls of his comforting scent. Woodsy and leather. A hint of steel and something sweet. He’s my constant in this place, and it’s that thought alone that has my hands creep beneath his cut to grip the warm, soft fabric of his T-shirt. “I’m fine.”
“Nah, babe.” His arms circle me tight, squeezing me against his hard body. “Don’t lie; you’re not. But you’re still with me. Fuck…”
What if it was you?That’s what he doesn’t say. What if Digits had pulled that trigger and shot me instead? Even by accident.Damn it.Tears don’t fall. Instead, my lungs seize, struggling to bring oxygen to my wrecked limbs. I shake against him until my legs give out.
