that fact had proven true.
I still had the memories and that would have to be enough. Always had been, and I figured it always would be.
This girl was intriguing to me, that was all. It wasn’t attraction. Sure, maybe I was drawn to her, but I’d barely said two words to her, so it was really just an initial interest in her story.
That was all. Nothing less, nothing more.
I’d prove myself to all of them - Riot, Grace, Ryder - everyone. They’d see I could be a good man.
They’d see how strong I could be.
I just had to keep marching.
I walked to my tiny room and closed the door, leaving the sound of murmuring voices behind. I sat down on my bed and sighed, letting my head fill with images of the past, letting the feelings wash over me once again. I did this often. Maybe too often.
But fuck, I missed her so much.
I opened the bedside drawer and pulled out an old picture. It was creased, the edges yellowing and folding at the corners, but it was all I had.
Frankie’s beautiful young face smiled up at me, her arms wrapped around her equally beautiful mother at her side. Rays of sunlight streamed through their flowing black locks, their smiles identical and beaming at the camera as they laughed at some shared joke.
I’d never seen such beautiful women since and every single time I looked at this picture, I felt grateful to have known Frankie. I’d never met her mother. She died before I met Frankie, but this picture told me everything I needed to know about the two of them. The love they had for each other poured through.
I’d spent countless nights staring at this picture, wondering if they were together now somewhere. The concept of heaven was extremely hard for my bitter agnostic heart to wrap around, but if there was something like that, I sure hoped they’d found each other.
Frankie was a good girl, she deserved that.
I’d spent all this time doing my damnedest at keeping her memory alive, drowning in love for her, it almost felt like I’d put my life on hold, hoping she’d come back.
But she wasn’t coming back. Not ever.
I shuddered as the sound of the explosion haunted me once more. I’d never forget that sound - the smells, the screams ripping from my throat.
I’d say that it was the worst night of my life, but the reality is that things just kept getting worse and worse after that. Having Frankie torn from my life was awful, but living all these years without her had proven to be the greatest torture of all.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Vanessa
If it wasn’t for Grace and her incredibly soothing voice telling me over and over that everything was going to be okay, I would have been a huge mess.
As it was, I was eerily calm. Maybe I was just shut down. Maybe I’d built this day up in my head over and over so often that I’d desensitized myself to it.
It had all gone so smoothly that it was almost unbelievable.
But here I was. Free from Royce’s bullshit. Free from his twisted, sick mind. By now, he knew I was gone. Travis had probably lost his shit completely once he realized I’d slipped out. Once again, I wished I had been there to witness it. They were both such arrogant pricks, they thought they could do no wrong. I felt a huge sense of satisfaction that I’d finally found a way out of their clutches. I could only imagine how pissed off they both were.
However, this was only the beginning. Pissing them off was just the icing on my cupcake. I was going to bring their demented asses down so hard, they wouldn’t know what hit them.
Like my escape, I needed help with this, too. And after seeing the group gathered around the big wooden table in a dark room that Grace had called the War Room, I was having mixed feelings. These guys were huge, scary and intimidating. But bikers?
I had no doubt they could rip Royce in half, but I wasn’t sure if they were the right people to do the job of bringing down a handful of power-drunk multimillionaires. That’s not to say I wasn’t willing
I still had the memories and that would have to be enough. Always had been, and I figured it always would be.
This girl was intriguing to me, that was all. It wasn’t attraction. Sure, maybe I was drawn to her, but I’d barely said two words to her, so it was really just an initial interest in her story.
That was all. Nothing less, nothing more.
I’d prove myself to all of them - Riot, Grace, Ryder - everyone. They’d see I could be a good man.
They’d see how strong I could be.
I just had to keep marching.
I walked to my tiny room and closed the door, leaving the sound of murmuring voices behind. I sat down on my bed and sighed, letting my head fill with images of the past, letting the feelings wash over me once again. I did this often. Maybe too often.
But fuck, I missed her so much.
I opened the bedside drawer and pulled out an old picture. It was creased, the edges yellowing and folding at the corners, but it was all I had.
Frankie’s beautiful young face smiled up at me, her arms wrapped around her equally beautiful mother at her side. Rays of sunlight streamed through their flowing black locks, their smiles identical and beaming at the camera as they laughed at some shared joke.
I’d never seen such beautiful women since and every single time I looked at this picture, I felt grateful to have known Frankie. I’d never met her mother. She died before I met Frankie, but this picture told me everything I needed to know about the two of them. The love they had for each other poured through.
I’d spent countless nights staring at this picture, wondering if they were together now somewhere. The concept of heaven was extremely hard for my bitter agnostic heart to wrap around, but if there was something like that, I sure hoped they’d found each other.
Frankie was a good girl, she deserved that.
I’d spent all this time doing my damnedest at keeping her memory alive, drowning in love for her, it almost felt like I’d put my life on hold, hoping she’d come back.
But she wasn’t coming back. Not ever.
I shuddered as the sound of the explosion haunted me once more. I’d never forget that sound - the smells, the screams ripping from my throat.
I’d say that it was the worst night of my life, but the reality is that things just kept getting worse and worse after that. Having Frankie torn from my life was awful, but living all these years without her had proven to be the greatest torture of all.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Vanessa
If it wasn’t for Grace and her incredibly soothing voice telling me over and over that everything was going to be okay, I would have been a huge mess.
As it was, I was eerily calm. Maybe I was just shut down. Maybe I’d built this day up in my head over and over so often that I’d desensitized myself to it.
It had all gone so smoothly that it was almost unbelievable.
But here I was. Free from Royce’s bullshit. Free from his twisted, sick mind. By now, he knew I was gone. Travis had probably lost his shit completely once he realized I’d slipped out. Once again, I wished I had been there to witness it. They were both such arrogant pricks, they thought they could do no wrong. I felt a huge sense of satisfaction that I’d finally found a way out of their clutches. I could only imagine how pissed off they both were.
However, this was only the beginning. Pissing them off was just the icing on my cupcake. I was going to bring their demented asses down so hard, they wouldn’t know what hit them.
Like my escape, I needed help with this, too. And after seeing the group gathered around the big wooden table in a dark room that Grace had called the War Room, I was having mixed feelings. These guys were huge, scary and intimidating. But bikers?
I had no doubt they could rip Royce in half, but I wasn’t sure if they were the right people to do the job of bringing down a handful of power-drunk multimillionaires. That’s not to say I wasn’t willing
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