Page 107 of Hostile Saint

“Deep down, she does. Deep down.”

“My brothers hurt her!”

“They did. I’m so sorry.”

“They hurt me!”

“They did. But they won’t again.”

I just kept screaming, needing someone to hear—comprehend my pent-up and over-the-top frustration. “I’m just so fucking mad, Lynx!”

“You should be.”

“They killed my dad!”

“I believe they did.”

“Do I have a mother?”

“I don’t know, son.”

“Has she been hurt?” I yelled.

Unwilling to lie, he shook his head. “I don’t know, but… it is possible.”

I screamed, “Who allowed these people to rule my life?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll find out.”

Due to my heart simply being unable to handle one more beat without revenge—an end to the agony strangers were shoving into my world—I started to express some sort of roar, straight to the heavens. I didn’t recognize the sound until I heard similar ones in the distance.

Howls.

I was howling in pain.

And my brothers were answering me.

Dagger and Vice slowly appeared from beyond some trees, moonlight showing me their sad faces. I was in pain. And they hurt with me.

That is exactly what I needed at that very moment. Sympathy. Empathy. Not pity.

Breathless and mentally refusing any more anguish forced into my life, I looked to Lynx. I was hoping he could promise me that all the violence was over. But that would be him pulling me from the water. I had asked him to teach me to ride the waves…

So, he showed me vulnerability wasn’t a weakness.

That President of a deadly club, and many other chapters, stood there, exposed, shedding a tear, for me.

Back at the Colorado chapter, Charlie followed me as I entered my temporary bedroom, where I found Jewel packing a bag on my bed. She peered up and smiled. “Hey, Prospect. I have you and Lynx ready to roll.”

On Lynx’s bed sat a duffle bag, zipped and ready.

She showed me a smaller black bag. “I took the liberty to stock you up. This is now your travel bathroom bag. Toothbrush, paste, everything you may need.” She put it inside the bigger bag. “I got you a couple more pairs of jeans and stuff. Hope that’s okay.”

Charlie jumped up onto my bed and sniffed the bag while I stuttered, “Uh, wow. Thank you so much.”

She declared, “The only items missing are your weapons, but I am not permitted to ever touch those unless it is a life-or-death situation.”

“I understand.” I went to the nightstand in between Lynx’s and my bed and grabbed my gun and knife. Even though I was tempted to grab my spoon, I left it behind. Then I stuck the two items in my bag because Lynx said I wasn’t to travel with them on me since I was yet to have a carry permit. He told me this was a cautionary measure in case we got pulled over for some reason. He didn’t want a ‘dead man’ in jail.