4. Levy

Chapter four

Levy

Three weeks earlier

A s soon as the shelves started falling, I realized what a dumb fucking idea that had been. The whole warehouse began to shake as I ran in the direction where I’d last seen Anders and Grace. I skidded around a stack of pallets, ducking as shots sounded in front of me. I saw Anders push Grace out of the way as two men advanced on him with their guns drawn. One went down instantly, crumpling like a stack of cards. The other fired off a shot, and Anders stumbled back, falling to his knees. He shot a hand out in front of him, and blood spurted out of the gunman’s nose and eyes. He collapsed to the floor, writhing for a moment before going still, as Anders pulled himself to his feet unsteadily.

“Anders!” I shouted, running toward him. We both heard it at the same time, the hiss of chemicals reacting, small pops growing larger. Anders moved toward the doorway that Grace had disappeared through, slamming it shut as I tackled him to the floor. There was a rush of air and then an explosion so loud that the world went silent, and both of us were thrown sideways into the wall.

When I came to, I was looking at a blue sky, and I wondered how I’d survived an explosion that had taken the roof down around us. My ears were ringing something fierce, and every part of me hurt. I sat up gingerly and noticed Anders and Erik shouting at each other nearby. Anders was bleeding, cradling his arm to his chest, the entire side of his face coated in crimson as he raged, trying to force his way back toward the burning warehouse.

Oh my god, Grace!

I looked around, but she was nowhere in sight. Stumbling to my feet, I shook my head, trying to get my bearings. I looked down and saw my hands, shaking and covered in ash. That was odd, the explosion must’ve knocked more than one screw loose, I guess. I’d deal with my injuries later, there was no time now. Clenching my fists, I started toward the burning building. Hands grabbed my shirt, and I wrench away, only for them to grow more insistent.

“Get the fuck off me, I’m going in there!” I couldn’t tell if I was shouting, I could barely hear my own voice. Jesse was glaring at me, covered in dust or ash or something, making his blond hair look almost black.

“She’s gone!” Erik looked as if he was shouting, still in a standoff with Anders. “She’s just… the explosion…” He shook his head, despair etched in every atom of his face.

“I need to be sure!” Anders snarled, blood dripping from his nose as he shoved Erik in the chest with his uninjured arm. “I need to check. I can find her heartbeat, I’ll know if she’s there!”

Another explosion erupted, this one thankfully further away, but still loud enough to shake the ground underneath our feet. The entire warehouse shuddered, and then the whole room collapsed, the structure disintegrating as the fire grew larger .

“FUCK!” Anders shouted, his hands tearing at his hair as he turned away from the wreckage. I stared in disbelief, Jesse’s hands still gripping my shirt.

She is gone then, she is really… gone.

Somehow, we managed to climb into the car and head home. Jesse drove. He’d suffered the least amount of injuries, only dealing with the smoke when he’d run in to grab Anders and me. The ride home was silent, no one willing to say a word. Erik stared out the window, and Anders just… checked out. His eyes were open, but he was effectively gone, he didn’t respond to anyone or acknowledge anything.

“Where’re we going?” I asked, still not sure if I was shouting, the ringing was still persistent. Erik turned in his seat, his eyes half on the road while he spoke.

“Tavern,” he replied shortly, and I nodded, resting back into the seat. Good, we needed a damn doctor.

Jesse pulled into the parking lot, which was strangely empty for a Thursday night. I helped Anders get out of the car, threading my arm under his to keep him upright. Erik walked ahead of us and pounded on the door, and I noted the little sign in the window that said ‘Fuck off until Friday’. Well, that explains the empty lot, I guess. The door swung open, and Sparrow stepped out, a gun at her side as she took in the sight of us.

“What the hell have you done now, King?” She shook her head and gestured for us to move inside. Wren was waiting at the bar, her medical bag on the counter. Her keen eyes assessed each of us in turn and deemed Anders the top priority for care. I helped get him seated on a nearby chair, and she took a pen light out to check his pupils .

“He was fine, and then he just checked out,” I explained, and she winced, so clearly I was still yelling.

“I’ll see if I can snap him out of it,” she replied, and dug around in her kit for a moment before pulling out a small, nondescript bottle. Opening it carefully, she waved it under his nose. For a second, nothing happened, and then Anders was slapping her hand away, looking furious.

Sparrow was across the room in a blink, her gun pressed to his head. “Don’t even think about it,” she snarled, and Anders glared up at her, daring her with his eyes.

“Anders, stop!” Erik barked. “I’m sorry, Sparrow. We’ve had… it’s been a rough day.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Rough , what a fucking understatement that was.

While Wren stitched up Anders’ head, the three of us took seats around a nearby table, sitting in silence as Sparrow busied herself behind the bar. She walked up with a bottle of whiskey and four glasses, setting them all out and pouring us each a measure before sitting down herself, leveling a stare around the table. Sparrow was a force, she led the MC in South Cali, and she was as ruthless as she was deadly. We were lucky that she tolerated us like she did, because I was pretty sure they could have wiped us all out years ago.

“So? Who’d you piss off?” she demanded, signing as best she could for Jesse’s benefit. Her technique was abysmal, but she tried, and that was a courtesy most people didn’t extend at all.

“My father and the Boogeyman,” Erik replied bitterly, downing his drink and reaching for the bottle, pouring himself another. I noticed his hand was shaking, and my throat tightened. If he fell apart, we all would .

“You were always a fan of the underdog story, weren’t you?” Sparrow sighed, shaking her head. “So, what now? Are you on the run, or do you go back to Daddy with your tail between your legs?”

“My father’s dead,” Erik replied, staring at the whiskey. Sparrow’s eyebrows shot up, and she did another scan of the table.

“Well then… Why the long faces?” she asked, taking a sip of her drink.

“We-” Erik cleared his throat, frowning while he downed his drink once more, his jaw working as he struggled to steady himself.

“One of ours didn’t make it,” I offered quietly, and Roe’s face softened imperceptibly, giving me a gentle nod.

“We don’t know that,” Anders snapped, drawing our attention. Wren looked exasperated, the needle hovering next to his face as he refused to hold still. “We never saw a body, so we don’t know she’s gone.” Roe’s eyebrows shot up, and Jesse turned back to his drink, shaking his head slowly.

“The building collapsed, man. There’s… there’s not going to be a body,” Erik replied, grabbing the bottle again.

“You don’t know that!” Anders stood up swiftly, and Wren yelped in protest, quickly snipping off the stitches at the end before Anders pulled her along with him. I moved to stop him before he made it to the door, and his eyes bore into mine, ordering me to step aside. “Move,” he snapped.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Erik demanded, and Anders rolled his shoulders, his hands clenched into fists.

“I’m going back there to find her!” he snarled. None of us knew what to say, he was beyond reason at this point .

“There’s nothing there, Anders,” I murmured. “She’s gone. I’m sorry, she’s just… gone.”

“We didn’t see it! We don’t know! I have to know!” he shouted, shoving me back with each outburst. I finally grabbed his arms, pulling him tight to my chest. It must have hurt with the wound in his shoulder, but there was worse pain right now to deal with.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” I murmured as he beat his fist on my chest. Erik looked like he was going to be sick, and Jesse buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking.

Sparrow let us stay in her back room, which had a couple of ratty couches in amongst the extra cases of booze. Our house probably wasn’t safe to go back to right now, plus we were in no shape to drive. Anders finally let Wren work on his shoulder. The bullet had been through and through, so that was lucky at least. He’d succumbed to that eerie silence once more, his eyes glazed over and grief etched across his face. He refused any kind of pain meds, and I truly didn’t know how he stayed conscious, or still for that matter, while Wren stitched him up.

Erik and Jesse finished the bottle of scotch between them and passed out on one of the couches, while I sat awake, watching Anders sleep on the second one. I couldn’t risk him sneaking off while I was asleep. Plus, I knew what I would see when I closed my eyes.

My breath came out in sharp bursts, the pain from today settling in as I stared at the broken remains of my friends. Douglas was going to pay for this. I’d rip him limb from limb myself.

Wren appeared in the doorway sometime in the morning, after the sun had come up and light had peeked into our makeshift room. “Coffee?” she murmured, and I nodded dully, standing and leaving the others to sleep. I trailed after her into the half-kitchen behind the bar, watching silently as she set up a new pot and got the coffee brewing.

“How are you feeling?” she asked gently, and I shrugged, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Do you need anything? Were you injured in the explosion?”

“Just banged up, nothing new,” I mumbled. At least my ears weren’t ringing as badly anymore.

“She was important to you, wasn’t she?” Wren murmured, and I looked away, toward the ancient deep fryer in the corner.

“She was.” The silence weighed heavily between us, my pain swallowing up any pleasantries or polite small talk.

The coffee machine buzzed, and Wren poured a cup for me, handing it over carefully.

“Go upstairs and sleep on the couch. I’ll watch over them for a bit.” She smiled, touching my shoulder gently. I shook my head. I couldn’t sleep right now. If I slept, I’d dream, and if I dreamed, I knew she would be there. I couldn’t handle that right now.

I settled at one of the tables by the bar, sipping my coffee, as I waited for the others to wake up. Anders was the first out the door, looking like he hadn’t slept at all. The side of his head was still coated in blood, which had dried brown and looked horrible, and his arm was in a makeshift sling so he wouldn’t tear up the stitches in his shoulder. He sat down mutely next to me, and I got him his own cup of coffee, which he stared at but didn’t drink. Jesse and Erik emerged a few hours later, and I got our go-bags out of the car, leaving the small backpack meant for Grace inside. We took turns showering in Sparrow and Wren’s upstairs apartment, and I busied myself with checking our security cameras on my laptop.

We spent three days licking our wounds and wallowing in Sparrow’s storage room while I watched the cameras around our house. Finally, after seventy-two hours with no perceived threats, Erik deemed it safe enough to return home. The drive back was as silent as ever, and it felt weird walking into the house, just the four of us. I went straight up to my room, flickering out of view as I shut the door behind me. I stripped off my pants and climbed into bed, dropping my head onto my pillow. It still smelled a little like her, honey and nutmeg, and I buried my face into it, wishing it was her instead.

I wasn’t sure how long I slept, but I woke with a start when something crashed nearby. Jumping to my feet, I padded barefoot through the bathroom, pushing open the door to Anders’ room. It looked like a whirlwind had blown through here. The bookshelf was tipped over and books littered the floor. Half his closet was torn out and thrown in piles all over the room. Anders was busy tearing one of the drawers out of his dresser one-handed, and I stepped over the bookshelf and grabbed it away from him before he could throw it or injure himself.

“What the hell are you doing?” I exclaimed, and he scoffed and tried to jerk the drawer out of my hands.

“Just leave me the fuck alone!” he shouted back, wrenching the drawer away with his good arm and dumping the contents all over the floor.

“You need to stop, this isn’t going to help anything,” I told him, grabbing him before he could go for another drawer.

“What is?!” Anders snapped. “Nothing will help, nothing will fix it! It’s my fault, and I can’t make it right.” His hand tore at his hair, coming dangerously close to the fresh stitches by his temple.

“It’s not your fault!” I insisted, grabbing his hand and pulling him against me. “It’s not your fault, so stop acting like it is.” Anders fought my hold, his hand bunching up my shirt as I held him tightly against my chest.

When he stopped struggling, I loosened my grip, but his hand remained fisted around my shirt. Without warning, he pulled me down, smashing his lips against mine. It was aggressive and so out of character for him, I didn’t know what to do. My lips parted for him unbidden, and he deepened the kiss, his hips grinding against mine until I moaned into his mouth. He tasted like whiskey—at least that explained the chaos surrounding us.

Anders growled and shoved me backward without warning. I landed on my back on his bed, and in a heartbeat he was on top of me, straddling me as he captured my lips once more. I tried to sit up but he shoved me back down, his hand around my throat. “It is my fault,” Anders groaned, and I swore as heat flooded my core, my cock growing stiff between us.

“Anders, this isn’t a good idea,” I groaned, and he released my throat, reaching down to stroke me through my boxers. He was drunk, and clearly in some sort of self-destructive spiral right now. Sex was not something we should be thinking about. He jerked my waistband down and grabbed my cock, his fingers wrapping around me tightly as I bucked into his hand, my thighs pinned beneath his. His hand pumped again, and I swore as more blood rushed to my groin. I was as hard as steel and leaking as Anders stroked me, and I fought desperately to keep some semblance of rational thought. “Anders, we shouldn’t-”

“I want you to fuck me,” he stated bluntly, and I stared at him, his thumb smearing the precum over my tender head.

“Wha- Anders, I’m not going to fuck you while you’re drunk,” I replied, hissing when he squeezed me again, looming over me.

“Please,” he groaned, leaning down to kiss me again. “I need this, please, Levy.” He was begging me, actually begging. I didn’t know what to do, my head was actively fighting against every other instinct in my body. I swore again, and he could see me starting to cave, continuing to stroke me teasingly slow, until my hips were thrusting up into his hand, trying to get more friction. I had to, I needed him, I wanted him so fucking bad.

I grabbed him by the shoulders, mindful of his injury, twisting us until his back was on the bed and I was above him. His eyes flashed, and I smirked at him, tugging his sweatpants down his hips. His cock was hard and leaking, and I stroked it once, then twice, reveling in how he twisted underneath me. I leaned over and dug around in his nightstand, finding a small bottle of lube. I quickly poured some over my fingers and reached down between his legs, finding his tight hole. Pressing my finger inside, up to the first knuckle, I leaned over him, letting my cock drag across his stomach. “You still want this?” I asked, capturing his lips before he could answer. I plunged my tongue into his mouth as I added another finger, scissoring them. He clenched around me, moaning raggedly.

“This won’t be gentle,” I warned him. Not with my barely-there control. I wanted him so much I ached right down to my toes, and I knew as soon as I sank into him I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.

“Good,” he rasped. “I don’t deserve gentle.” I pulled away from him and poured more lube directly onto my cock, coating myself as I looked down at him. Anders pupils were blown, and he was panting as he watched me hungrily. I grabbed his hips and jerked him closer, lining myself up with his puckered hole. I held his hips still as I pushed past the ring of muscle, swearing a steady stream of curses as he clenched around my cock.

“Damn you Anders,” I muttered, pressing him into the bed as I seated myself fully inside of him. “Damn you for using me to punish yourself,” I snarled, pulling out nearly all the way before pounding back into him, smirking while he moaned, his hand grabbing hold of my shoulder as I buried myself in him, over and over.

As I’d promised, I wasn’t gentle, my muscles flexing as I drove him into the bed, each stroke more brutal than the last. A sick, familiar coil of dread was building in my stomach, reminding me of… before . I leaned down and nipped at the sensitive skin on his neck, leaving him a trail of bruises down his throat. “Damn you,” I groaned in his ear, slamming into him once more before I moaned my release, filling him as I thrust shallowly, pressing my forehead against his.

I pulled back and realized that he’d come at some point, making a mess on both of our stomachs. His eyes were closed, and he was panting heavily. I left him on the bed and went into the bathroom, turning on the shower so I could wash myself off. The post-orgasm haze was short-lived, and I felt sick to my stomach for what I’d done. The rift growing between us would never heal now, I was sure of it.