twenty-nine: in which she numbs the pain with pain

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"Do you have no soul? It's like it died long ago" –Muse, Dead Inside

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"What. The. Fuck?" he muttered, his eyes drifting open. Immediately, he pulled his shirt down, covering up the laceration that started just below his ribcage.

"You're hurt, Jacob!" I exclaimed, pulling the covers over myself. "Why didn't you tell me?"

His eyes were glazed over in a way I knew very well. "But babe – fucking's the best painkiller out there. Endorphins and shit, right?"

I took a deep breath, ready to explain the million ways why we were both unfit to have done this, but the door burst open and a horde of bikers streamed in, guns pointed. I screamed. Again. Feeling incredibly stupid even as the sound escaped my lips.

"The fuсk's going on?" a bald man I didn't recognize wanted to know.

"Put the goddamned guns away!" Jake snarled, pulling himself upright. "And get the hell out."

I gaped at him. Was he not human? Didn't he have any nerve-endings? The fact that he'd all but done sexual gymnastics while wounded was something I couldn't wrap my head around, and the fact that all the other men in the room were murmuring apologies before backing away didn't register until the room was empty again.

"Trigger-happy bastards," said Jake, lying back down. "What?" he went on, obviously taking in my bewildered expression.

"You have a knife wound. Will you let me take a look?" I sounded calm. Way too calm. Oddly calm.

"Don't worry about it. Doc'll take a look at me," he stated, sounding just as calm. But then I noticed the slight tic in his jaw, like he was trying to fight against the pain. Moisture was visibly spreading across his T-shirt. "Once he's done with Sin."

"Jac---"

"Sin is the VP. He comes first," he cut in, his voice sharp.

This whole club hierarchy was bullshit. Complete and total bullshit. Just because Sin was the Vice-President, his life came before Jacob's? Fear licked its way up my skin, its tongue icy-cold and rough, making me shiver.

"Already told the doc to come find me when he's done looking at Sin," Jake continued, totally oblivious. "It's all good."

"It's not all good. Are you out of your –"

"Drop it, Maya," Jake snapped. "I fuсked you, didn't I?"

My teeth clenched together. "Yes. You certainly did."

"Where are you going?"

"Away from you and the stick up your ass," I snarled, shrugging off my ruined blouse. I went through my overnight bag until I found a clean bra and T-shirt, putting them on in quick succession before pulling on my underwear and jeans. I stuck my feet into my flip-flops.

Jake still hadn't said anything in response. A peek at him showed me that he hadn't passed out. No, he looked like he was just seething in silence.

"Actually, I need to say a few things, and you're going to shut your mouth and listen to me. Got it?" I shoved my hair out of my face, feeling how hot the skin of my forehead was with anger. "Sex will not fix this. Sex will not make every worry, every fear, every bit of confusion I have evaporate into thin air. It won't change the fact that everything has changed and it feels like it's all changed in the blink of an eye. Then again, maybe it's only changed for me. Maybe this whole time I was trying to fool myself into thinking the worst thing you've ever done was get your kicks out of a couple brawls. Maybe I just didn't want to see what you were – are – capable of.

Jacob, I love you. I promised not to judge you. I promised not to hurt you. But I'm going to have to break those promises because...what you've done? I don't know if I can handle it. I need to think and, as cliché as it sounds, I need space."

I had to take several deep breaths when I was done, and all the while, my chest was hurting. It hurt so bad that I put my fingers to the skin directly over my ribcage, as if I could make my heart beat regularly that way.

Jake sat up, and this time, he couldn't mask the grimace of obvious pain on his face. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, looking at me. Just looking at me. I couldn't read anything else on his expression and I found that I wanted to. I wanted him to be blunt, to be honest. I wanted him to tell me that it would never have worked between us. That we were too different – and it had nothing to do with skin color, religion, favorite freaking music – and everything to do with the fact that he took pleasure in taking lives while I was trained to save them.

"You're gonna leave me?" Jake asked, his face blank. "Because I killed...for you?"

"Do not put that on me, Jacob!" I exploded, feeling every bit of emotion I was trying to bottle up bubble over the top and into the space between us. "What sane person would stay with you after this? What sane person would try to justify what you did – what you say you've been doing?"

"Everything I do, I do for you and for the club. But if you want me to choose..." His voice trailed off, leaving me to fill in the blanks.

"Then the club comes first, right?" Just as quickly as all the rage poured out of me, it left me. I felt defeated. "Ghost and Sin and all those guys out there? They come first, right? You could die or go to jail, but hey, as long as you die wearing the Phantoms' back patch, we can all drink and fuсk in your memory at your wake!"

"Rein it in, Maya," Jake bit out. "I told you what you were getting into by being with me, didn't I?"

"You told me you'd be murdering everyone who says a few menacing words to me? That you'd be out ejaculating over the thought of torturing people? No, Jacob Ford, you did not tell me that!" I was yelling and I didn't give a fuсk. Not one single fuсk was sold and distributed by yours truly. I didn't care if any of Jake's so-called Brothers burst in again, guns blazing. "I can't be with you knowing you're going to get yourself killed any day, and you can't be so selfish to ask me to. Not when you know my experience with death."

Jake stood, his brow furrowed and sweat making his forehead shine. "You will kill me. You will break me. And maybe I'm a pusѕy-whipped motherfuсker letting you know this shit, but if you leave me–"

"Emotional blackmail, Jacob?" I snapped, struggling to get those words past the ball in my throat. "Your penis wasn't enough, so you want to play with my heart?"

"Fuсk, Maya." He dropped to his knees, pressing his hands to his side.

I didn't even think, just went to him, wanting to see his cut properly. Wanting to help him.

The instant I stood over him, his arms shot out, wrapping around my legs and holding me there like bands of steel.

"Stop, Jacob!" I hissed out, trying to push away from him. "Let me go!"

"Never," I heard him say.

"Please," I begged, willing myself not to cry. If I cried, then he'd want to make it better and there was no way I was subjecting myself to another round of I'll-fuсk-it-better with this man.

"I don't want you anymore," I made myself say. "I want to go back to the way things were, when I hated you. I want to pretend I never loved you, Jacob Ford."

Like magic, I was free of him. Well, of his twisted hold.

He looked up at me, eyes like hazel-colored glaciers, and said, "You can leave me. What-fuckin'-ever. Just don't leave the compound where you're safe. Understood?"

"Understood," I whispered. I backed away from him. "I need to... I have to check on Daisy. Please, make sure you get that wound looked at, Jacob."

He was sitting down on the carpet now, long legs stretched out in front of him. "Bring me a beer, yeah?"

I glanced at the streaks of blood on the legs of my faded blue jeans. "Okay."

I walked out the room, walked away from the first man I'd ever loved.

And I kept on walking.

I managed to get out of the house and out into the darkened night. I had my phone and my car was back at my place. When I went to the main gate, where a small group of Candidates were standing sentry, they'd all but laughed in my face when I told them I wanted to leave. Even when I threatened them with the police.

Out of options, I phoned the one person I knew who could get here in five minutes and actually be allowed inside. I waited outside until I heard Catalina's bike roar up to where I was.

Wordlessly, she handed me a spare helmet. I put it on, getting onto her bike behind her and putting my arms around her waist.

Catalina was a good friend. She had ignored my tears.

***

They call it takotsubo cardiomyopathy – because the shape of the stricken heart resembles the Japanese octopus traps called tako tsubo – but I would prefer to call it by its more common name: Broken-heart syndrome.

How do you explain to someone that you can't breathe because your heart hurts? That your chest hurts so bad you feel like carving yourself open and trying to fix it?

I wasn't stupid; I knew I didn't have stress-induced cardiomyopathy, but it didn't make what I was feeling any less painful.

Catalina had brought me to the Bloody Marys' clubhouse, parking in a lot out front that was filled with bikes of every shape, make and color. It was a pretty decent compound, and Catalina gave me the grand tour herself, offering me a beer as she did.

"No, thanks," I told her, lifting up the bottom of my top to show her.

"Oh," she said.

At least I knew the sutures in my abdomen would have dissolved by next week or so. I couldn't even think that far.

Catalina introduced me to all the "bitches" at the bar area in the clubhouse. There was Jude, a redhead who'd pierced her entire face; Smokey, who, like her name implied, had a smoky voice and smelled of cigarettes; Monroe, a blue-eyed seven-foot woman with a loud laugh; Eve, whose pixie cut had been dyed a royal blue. Those were the only names I was able to remember in my state but I wouldn't ever forget the Bloody Marys' insignia – a silhouette of a long-haired woman on a motorcycle with a scythe in hand. It was on the backs of their leather jackets and reminded me of murder. Maybe I was just projecting.

However, I greeted each and every woman with a forced smile in place before whispering to Catalina that I was tired. She still hadn't asked why I wanted to get away from the Phantoms at nine in the evening, and for that, I was infinitely grateful.

The room she'd given to me had "Lace" printed in a nameplate across it, but it was clean and it was empty. A single bed was pushed against one wall, opposite a large window that let in the bright light of the moon, and that was it.

"If you're hungry, just yell," said Catalina, "or better yet, go to the kitchen down the hall and whip something up for yourself. I got your back, Silver."

I turned at the side to face her. "What did you call me?"

"Silver," she said slowly, tapping beside her right eye with a forefinger. "You know, 'cause of your eyes?"

I swallowed hard, bombarded with the memory of all those times when Jake had called me his Silver Eyes as he fuсked me. My head hurt. "I like it, Cat."

She had long ago given up on getting me to call her "Puѕsy". "Then it's official, bitch. You're Silver."

Once she'd left, I collapsed onto the bed and tried to make myself sleep. From beside the pillow, my phone kept vibrating, so I switched it off. Eventually, I would have to face Jacob like an adult and collect my things.

Eventually.