Kill me?
I look in his eyes and know that he means what he says. He’s never left more than bruises on me before, which is terrible enough, but it looks like this time he wants me gone for good. My mind flashes to a memory of us when we first met. How have things ended up this way? How can something that starts with a smile end in such hate?
I look down and say, “You want to pull me away from where I’m happy so you can kill me? Still on the meth, Darren?”
He grunts. “None of your fucking business, Tina. Unless you want your little biker friends to be taken down by the cops here, you’ll come back home with me. You stay, then soon the clubhouse gets raided. Yeah, I heard all about the Wind Dragons. I’ve done my research. The cops know who they are. And we’ll find a reason to put them all behind bars. If we can’t, we’ll just have to make one up.”
He pulls out a bag of a white, crystalline powder. “I’ll just plant a shitload of drugs in their clubhouse. Problem solved.”
I try to remember what Faye wanted me to say, but my mind is suddenly blank. I just know I need to keep him talking. “What do you want, Darren?”
“We go home. This weekend. Tell your biker friends you’re moving back. Make up some excuse; don’t let them follow you. We don’t need that trash in our town.”
My lips tighten. If anyone is trash, it’s him.
“You look good, Tina,” he says, his voice turning a little husky, making me feel sick to my stomach. “I can’t wait to be inside you again. I can’t wait to have you back home, where I can do anything I want with you. You’re going to regret leaving. You’ll be mine, in this life or the fucking next. I will never let you go.”
I swallow hard.
He’s insane.
Goose bumps appear on my skin as I realize the severity of the situation.
“You have until tomorrow to make your decision.” He laughs then, an ugly, almost deranged sound. “And keep your fucking trap shut with those bikers; don’t try any of your shit. They can’t save you. You let the bad in me out, Tina. Test me—I dare you.”
I let the bad in him out? As usual, he can never take responsibility for his own actions. Nothing is ever his fault. I can’t believe the thing in front of me dares to call himself a man. He’s pathetic.
I wasn’t the weak person who inserted a needle in his arm. I didn’t hurt him on purpose. He’s a waste of fucking space. He shouldn’t be breathing the same air as Ardan, or any man in the MC. For a second I wonder if maybe Ardan is right. I’d sleep better at night knowing this filth isn’t walking the streets, maybe ruining the life of some other woman. Or is that position reserved only for me? Why am I so unlucky? Why did I get dealt this hand? A tear rolls down my cheek. I can’t believe I put up with this for so long. I’m so fucking stupid. I’m worth something. I can make a man happy. I can make Ardan happy. I do make him happy.
I. Am. ENOUGH.
“I hate you,” I say, my voice lifeless. “I read somewhere once that darkness can be a gift. You gave me darkness. You gave me regret, you gave me fear, and you gave me self-doubt. But I took all that pain, and I turned it into strength. You’re weak, Darren, and you can never destroy me.”
And then . . . something inside me breaks.
Suddenly, I don’t care about the plan. I just want to reclaim my power. “I’d rather die than be anywhere near you ever again, Darren!” I yell. “Do whatever you want. Try your best. The truth is, you’re the one who can’t let go. The strong move on, they adapt. The weak hang on, place blame, and try to make others feel like shit because they know that they themselves are worthless. You, Darren, are worthless. If you have to use your power as a man to make a woman feel like she’s nothing just so you can feel better about yourself, you’re nothing but a coward!”
His face contorts in anger, and he lunges at me.
In this moment, I know that I’ve fucked up. What have I done? Why didn’t I just stick to the plan?
Fuck.
His hand grips my throat, and he squeezes. I look into his eyes, and they’re wild, crazy.
I know by the strength in his hold that this is no warning. No, this time, he wants to kill me. And he will.
Maybe he’ll blame my own death on me too.
Spots start appearing before my eyes. I need to breathe, but I can’t.
I’m trying. I hear a commotion, yelling, and the sounds of shoes on concrete. Then I hear a pained growl, and somehow, the sound makes me feel not so alone.
Then everything goes black.
I wake up in a hospital room.
“You’re awake,” Ardan says, kissing my hand.
“What happened?” I ask, my voice coming out croaky. “Besides my getting strangled by Darren.”
I touch my neck and wince. “What does it look like?”
“It’s going to bruise,” he says, frowning. “It’s really red and swollen.”