9. Trick

Friday comes around too fast. I get swept up in the routine of taking care of Sophia and Heidi, losing track of the days. That routine now involves a morning wank in the shower, Heidi’s wet body and pert tits filling my thoughts as I explode my release over the tiles.

Yeah, I’m a real piece of shit, but I’d be a liar if I said seeing her naked hasn’t awoken a need in me.

She’s not avoiding me, but she’s also not going out of her way to be around me. I feel like a dick for making things awkward, though she was the one who didn’t lock the door.

On Friday morning, I push all thoughts of Heidi out of my head and leave while the house is still quiet. I haven’t told her about the beating I’m going to receive from all my club brothers. She’d only try to stop me, and I have to do this.

As I step into the common room, my brothers are already here, waiting. I shrug out of my kutte and fold it carefully, treating it with the respect I should have all those months I was running around killing Pioneers against my president’s orders.

I place it on the nearest tabletop, my T-shirt following until I’m left in just my jeans and boots. Slowly and methodically, the knives I’m carrying follow next until I’m completely disarmed.

Exposed, I don’t look at any of my brothers as I move into the centre of the room, which has been cleared of tables and chairs.

Howler steps up to me, his hard gaze roaming over my face. I don’t know whether it’s regret, disappointment, or irritation in his expression, but I deserve all three.

“You still sure you want to do this?”

Even if I wanted to pull out, I can’t. I would lose face with my brothers, and I’m not a fucking coward.

“Yeah,” I say, “I’m ready.”

He stares at me for a beat before he shakes his head.

“Every brother will take one hit and one hit only.” He says this to the room, though his gaze stays locked on me. “Weapons are not permitted, and if you don’t make it to the end, we have to do this again.” This last part is for me, but nothing is going to make me break.

I shake my hands out at my sides, cracking my neck as I prepare mentally and physically for the world of pain I know I’m about to be in. Rage might be the brother who is most angry at me, but he’s not the only one harbouring those feelings. I’ve pissed off everyone.

Blackjack steps up first, his eyes devoid of emotion as his vice president mask slips into place.

He’s one of my oldest friends, and I know how hard this will be for him. I fucking hate myself for putting him in this position.

I meet his gaze, trying to communicate silently that it’s okay, and for the first time since I came back, I see a crack in the hard exterior he gives me. It’s not pity or sympathy but anger. He’s pissed that he’s having to do this.

I force my body to remain relaxed as he scrubs a hand over his beard, pulling himself into the zone he needs to be in.

“You’re a fucking prick,” he mutters under his breath.

When he slams his fist into my gut, the pain is instant. It feels like he hits me with a lead pipe. The ache that explodes through my abdomen and spreads up my back forces the air to rush from my lungs on a strangled gasp.

Fuck.

He may not have wanted to hit me, but he didn’t hold back either.

My vision blurs for a second before I manage to straighten my spine, trying not to let anything show on my face as Blackjack steps away, making room for Hawk.

The guy is massive. He could have walked right out of a Viking saga with those broad shoulders and that long hair of his. He’s also lethal, and the time he spent as a nomad means he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty.

I like the guy, and before he lands his hit, I know it’s going to hurt like fuck. Unlike Blackjack, he doesn’t aim for my gut. He smashes his fist into my face. My head snaps to the side with so much force, I stumble into one of the tables at the edge of the cleared space.

Blood pools in my mouth as my teeth press against the soft tissue inside my cheek.

Son of a…

I barely stay on my feet as pain radiates down my jaw and into my neck. That was only the second hit and already my brain feels rattled.

I steel my spine, forcing myself to stand tall as I run my tongue around my mouth, checking nothing is loose.

“The slate is clean between us now,” Hawk says before he resumes his place in the crowd.

Those few words are enough to settle me and to strengthen my resolve to get through this.

“Thanks, brother,” I say, wiping the blood off my chin.

More step up, and I try to prepare myself before each hit, but every punch adds more pain to the bruises already forming beneath my skin.

By the time Brewer approaches me, I want to curl into a ball on the floor to ease some of the pain. The brother doesn’t seem happy about what he’s about to do, and I swear I see an apology in his eyes right before he smacks me on the left flank.

White-hot agony flares through me, momentarily blinding me as bile and vomit tries to fire up my gullet. I drop to my knees, unable to bear my weight as I see double.

What the fuck…

I almost welcome the encroaching darkness slipping through the edges of my vision, but it’s the thought of my daughter that forces me to blink it clear. I won’t give up. Not now. I’m so close to the end, but my body screams for a reprieve as I press my palms to the floor beneath me.

Every part of me wants to collapse onto my face, but if I fail, this has to be done again, and I can’t go through this a second time.

On my hands and knees, I lower my head, watching drops of blood splash onto the floor as wave after wave of agony spreads through me.

I don’t think I can do this.

My body is a ball of pain, and everything is fuzzy around me. Breathing hurts like fuck, every inhale like glass in my throat.

I need to get back on my feet. There are still three more hits to be taken: Terror, Howler, and Rage.

I don’t expect leniency from any of them, especially not Rage, but I don’t know how I’m going to survive the next few minutes.

My gut is on fire, and I want to puke, but I swallow it down. I won’t show weakness, not at a time when they need me to be strong.

I peer up at Rage, who is standing with Hawk and Terror. The smirk on his face tells me everything I need to know about the hit he’s going to land. Cold spreads over my burning flesh.

It’s the sight of his smug fucking grin that forces me to get back to my feet. My body trembles beneath my weight, as if I’m carrying a ten-tonne rock on my shoulders.

Just three more hits. I can do this.

I run my tongue over my bloodied teeth. “Are you doing this or not?” I demand.

He steps up to me, getting in my face. “Oh, I’m doing it, but this doesn’t change a fucking thing between us.”

“Rage,” Howler snaps his name, but it doesn’t wipe the smirk off his face.

“This is for my old lady, you piece of shit.”

Rage rubs his hands together before he rams his fist into my gut. The pain is so blinding, I black out for a moment, and when I come to, I’m on the floor, face down, trying to breathe.

I have to get up.

If I stay down, I lose. I only have two more hits. I have to get up.

The room rolls around me before I can so much as twitch, and saliva floods my mouth. I barely turn my head to the side before my stomach convulses and I vomit everywhere.

Hands skim over me. I’m not sure if they’re trying to help or trying to hurt me, but I’m too out of it to fight them off.

There is a dull roar in my ears and my head throbs in time with my racing pulse. My ears are full, like there’s cotton stuffed inside them. I close my eyes, trying to calm my adrenaline as it floods my body.

Howler fills my vision suddenly, bending down in front of me, concern on his face. “You still have two more hits to take. Can you do it?”

I have to.

Trembling, I bob my head, forcing my hands under me to get to my knees. Everything rolls around me before it levels out. I can’t stand, and I don’t try to.

“Just do it,” I grind out past my fat lip and swollen jaw.

Terror steps up to me, his brows drawn together. “You really are a dumb fucker,” he mutters before he hits me in the face.

I’m grateful he does because I don’t think my gut can take any more. He doesn’t hit me lightly, though, putting enough force behind it to make it hurt.

The pain melds into the other injuries screaming at me. I barely feel it, unable to separate where one agony starts and another ends.

Howler is last, and while I really want to be on my feet for this, I know realistically there is no chance of me standing.

There’s a peace that comes with this beatdown. Every pain reminds me that as numb as I was in the months when I was hunting Pioneers, I am still alive. I can rise out of the ashes of this. I can reclaim my place in the club, and I can be a good father.

My arms rest in my lap as I peer up at Howler.

“I’m sorry,” I say, giving my president the apology he deserves.

“I know you are,” he mutters. “But you disrespected this club through your actions. You put your brothers and their families in danger, and you disregarded the code we live by. As soon as I give you this last hit, any further grievances against you will be brought directly to me.”

I bob my head. “Do it.”

Howler sighs. “I’m glad you decided to come back to us, Trick, but if you ever disobey me again, I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

With those parting words, he hits me so hard, my vision flashes white, and then it’s lights out.