Page 89 of Depraved

This was all his fault. Things could have been different for us if he had only let me go, saving Neon’s life. But he didn’t. He was too selfish for that. With every mouthful I swallowed, my guilt became heavier, as if the water settled like concrete in my stomach. More tears rolled down my cheeks, my mind flipping between images of Granite’s face while he took my body I offered so willingly, to Neon’s face covered in tears and pain. It was too much. The contradiction, the extreme feeling of bliss bouncing to the punishing shame, was just too damn much.

I jerked the bottle away from my lips and threw it across the room while a furious scream ripped from my throat.

How long before the pain would finally consume me whole? How long before the shame would bury me while both their faces haunted me?

God, I hated him. I hated him for being the reason agony was gnawing at my bones. I hated him for playing my body like a violin. But most of all, I hated that the image of his face still stirred something to life inside me.

I hated him giving me hope during those moments of ecstasy.

And I fucking hated him for ruining me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

GRANITE

I was standing down the hall when Onyx left her room, walking in the other direction.

Fire simmered in my veins, jealousy about two seconds away from ripping through my chest. He had been visiting her a lot since we got here, claiming he was only trying to get her to eat. But I knew my brother well enough to know it was more than that.

Onyx wasn’t the type to concern himself with the wellbeing of others if he didn’t have some sort of interest in them. And judging by the way he had been up my ass about Alyx ever since she got here, my guess was he had a real keen interest in her that stretched far beyond mere human compassion. But even though it pissed me off, there was a part of me—the not so selfish part—that was thankful for someone trying to take care of her. But that didn’t mean I liked it.

In fact, I hated it.

I hated that he could take care of her, or at least try to. I hated that he could walk into her room without feeling crushing guilt. I hated that he could look into her eyes without hating the blood that ran through his veins. Most of all, I hated that he could be there with her when I couldn’t. She hated me. I hated me. It was better that way.

“You’re creeping.”

I turned to face Dutch leisurely leaning against the wall while lighting a cigarette. “I’m not creeping.”

“Yes, you are. You’ve been stalking this hall ever since we got here. It’s creeping.”

“We only got here two days ago.”

He blew out a cloud of smoke. “Dude, you’re creeping.”

“Whatever.” I turned and headed the other way. Knowing Dutch was following me, I talked while I walked. “Surroundings still secure?”

“Yup. Manic and his squad have been doing runs every hour on the hour. Our absence at the gym hasn’t raised suspicions yet. Not under these circumstances. Word on the street is we’ve gone to do some patch-overs of our own since…you know.”

“Yeah.” I sighed. “Our men on the inside still undetected?”

“Granite, man.” Dutch touched my shoulder, and I turned to face him. “Everything is as secure as it can be. Besides, I’m pretty sure the Pythons will be laying low for a while.”

“Don’t be so sure.” I clenched my jaw. “We underestimated the fucker not once, but twice. First with my dad, and then with Neon. That fucking devil won’t outsmart me again.”

“Us.” Dutch pinned his stare on me. “Us, Granite. Not you. Nothing about what happened so far was because of you, or about you. It’s because of us, and it’s about us. The Kings. We all carry the blame in this. Not just you.”

I pulled my hand through my hair, pushing it out of my face. “Whatever, man. I’m the president. I’m responsible for the safety of the members of this club, and that included Neon. Lot of good it did her.”

“Stop.” Dutch squared his shoulders, only a few inches shorter than I was. “Stop beating yourself up about it.”

“Never.” I stepped forward. “I will never stop beating myself up over what happened.” Unable to carry on with this conversation, I turned and walked away.

“What happened to Neon wasn’t your fault, man. And neither was what happened to Kate,” Dutch called after me, and I stilled for a few seconds.

“Well, I sure as fuck didn’t help them either.” With that, I left, my shit-kicker boots pounding the concrete as I stomped down the hall and up the stairs. I was suffocating. It was like the flames of hell were burning on my shoulders, the smoke smothering me.

Luckily, I had become a thick-skinned motherfucker a very long time ago. There had been a whole list of shit I had to brush off in my life, but what happened to Neon wouldn’t be one of them. As the leader, I had no choice but to go on and to continue being the head of this club. There was no other option for me. My duty toward the club had also become my burden, and it was a burden I would carry until the day I took my last breath. But I would never forget, and I would never forgive myself for what happened to Neon. My dad always said we stood together as a unit but carried guilt alone as an individual. And this was the guilt I carried alone.