Chaotic (L.O.R.D.S. #7) — Chapter no 79

SEV ENTY-NINE

KASH TON

“Come on.” Eve grabs my hand and leads me through the crowd of peo ple.

“Where are we going?” I ask, but her only re sponse is a giggle as she drags me through the foyer and up the stairs.

“Where are you two going? We haven’t cut the cake yet.”

I look down over the railing to see Elli standing in the foyer with her hands on her hips, watching us walk up the stairs. Sin comes to

stand next to her.

“We’ll be back,” Eve assures her.

“Maybe.” I wink, and Sin grabs Elli’s hand, pulling her back to Eve’s birthday party when she tries to protest.

My wife pulls me into her bedroom and shuts the door be fore flip‐ ping on the light. “I don’t want a quickie,” I tell her. “You know I like to take my time.” My hands go to the hem of her dress, and I start to yank it up.

She slaps them away and smiles at me. “We’re not up here to fuck.”

I arch a brow. “Then why are we in here?” I look around the room that she has never slept one night of her life in. It gives me a pain in my chest. I wish Eve would have had this life. The mother that she deserved.

Placing her hands on my face, she forces me to look at her. I reach up and push some loose strands from her face. Her eyes are glassy from the alcohol, but she looks stunning.

“I wanted…” She pauses, swallowing, and I frown. “I wanted to tell you thank you.”

My pulse races at her words, because I know exactly where she’s going with this. “Eve—”

“I’ve never cele brated a birthday before, and I want to thank you for giv ing me something so special.”

Janice was nice enough to let me help plan this party for my wife.

“You better get used to it, angel. We’ll be cel e brat ing it every year.”

“Gosh, every year?” She rolls her eyes like she’s terrified of the idea, but the smile on her gorgeous face tells me the truth.

“For the rest of our lives,” I as sure her. And thanks to the enhance‐ ments, it’ll be a very, very long time.

She places her lips on mine, and my hands cup her face while she kisses me. When she pulls away, her eyes drop to my jeans. “I’ll take that quickie now.”

I grab her thighs, and she jumps up, wrapping her legs around me, giggling, as I walk her to the bed, knowing damn well I’m not going to be done anytime soon. The party will just have to wait for the birthday girl to re turn.

The memo ries come and go like the weather. There’s no controlling them. At first, I thought it was the silence.

It was driving me mad. There isn’t a TV in this godforsaken place.

Eve broke it when she fought the man the night I took my belt to her ass, and they haven’t re placed it.

Just a small radio. And after fiddling with the knob for who knows how long, I could only find a country station. I hate that shit. So fuck ing depressing. But it’s better than nothing.

I’m currently sitting on the end of the bed, elbows on my thighs and bent over, grip ping my hair with my hands. I’m so tired. Who knew heart break would be so exhausting? It’s an inner battle that I just want to give up on.

A part of me has died, but for some reason I’m still breathing.

The pain. It’s crippling. I re member losing my mother, and it didn’t feel like this. Maybe it was because I knew my mother was better off. Whereas with Eve, I wanted to give her a better life. I wanted to be someone she’d be proud to call her husband.

“Whiskey Lullaby” by Brad Paisley and Alison Krauss begins playing, and I jump up and rip that bitch from the fuck ing wall, snapping the

cord and tossing it across the room as well.

Silence it is.

A knock comes at my door, and I don’t even bother to answer it. No one knows where I am, and if it was one of my broth ers, they

wouldn’t be fuck ing knocking.

“Sir?” The soft knock comes again.

I groan; it’s the bartender. Yanking the door open, she gasps, tak‐ ing a step back. Her wide eyes look over my busted face, and then she leans to her left to get a view into my room. She scrunches her button nose at the smell that rolls out of the open door like a cloud

of smoke.

“What?” I bark and she jumps again.

“I, uh…” She un zips her overly large coat to re move two bottles of whiskey. “I thought you could use these.” Her cheeks blush as she glances up to meet my stare. I’m pretty sure my right eye has swollen shut. The bastards didn’t kill me. Just beat the shit out of me and left me in the parking lot. I can’t catch a break.

Patting down my jeans, I find my wallet in my back pocket and hold it out to her. “Thanks.”

She averts her eyes to her dirty shoes and bites her bottom lip.

“Oh, I don’t need…”

I rip the bottles from her hand, throw the wallet at her and step back, slamming the door shut in her face.

“Wait! What about your wallet?” she hollers from the other side of

the door.

“Keep it.” I won’t need it.

I go over to the only dresser in the room and set the two bottles down. Then I sit on the end of the bed, taking a swig of the one I started on this morning. It’s almost gone.

The whiskey runs down my chin and onto my chest. Pulling it away, I toss the now empty bottle across the room, and it shatters into a million pieces against the wall before falling to the floor like the oth‐ ers before it.

A week I’ve been hid ing in this run-down hole-in-the-wall mo tel out in the middle of nowhere.

No cell. No tracker. No connection to the outside world.

After I laid her in the ground, I had to get away. The “I’m sorry for your loss” wouldn’t change anything. She’s gone. Nothing I can do will bring her back.

I failed her. The one person that I was supposed to give my life for ended up giving hers for me. Be fore I left Carnage, Ty’s men in‐ formed me they still hadn’t found Evan. I’ve given up. The bastard won. He took my girl from me.

I went a little mad and killed some prisoners and then bolted. I found myself at that bar, and then after I got my ass kicked, I crawled to the mo tel next door and locked myself in room 111.

Where I’ve been rotting away.

It felt right. This is where I belong. I spent so many nights follow‐ ing her here. Watching her kill men. If only she would have taken me with her.

I long to see her, hold her, and hear her voice one last time. The thought has me glancing at her phone on the night stand. Adam, Bill, the wives…everyone has her number because she had become part of their lives. I’ve kept it off because I don’t want anyone to call looking for me, knowing I have it. But it can help me with one thing… Getting up, I walk over to the side of the bed, plop down, and pick up the motel room phone, dialing her number.

Her voice mail picks up and I hold my breath.

“Hey, Kash,” comes her soft voice and a lump forms in my throat. I tried calling her several times when we were rush ing to Bar rington, but the moment her voice mail picked up, I ended the call.

“I wanted to leave you one last mes sage. Just in case you thought to check.”

I slap my free hand over my mouth to quiet the sob so I can hear her speak.

“I’m sitting here at Bar rington, looking over the empty school. I’m try ing to get my thoughts together. I have to call you to say good‐ bye, and it breaks my heart. To leave you. But just in case it comes down to life and death, I choose to die for a cause. For you. I love you, Kashton. And if there’s a God, I thank him for sending me you.

My biggest re gret is running away that night on theIsabella. Not be‐

cause of me, but because that’s six years you went with out knowing you were loved. I took that from you and I’m sorry. I wish…” Her voice cracks, and I swallow ner vously. “This is the only way I can re‐ pay you for loving me when everyone in my life al ways made me feel worthless. You gave me a purpose, and I’m honored to be your angel in this chaotic world.” She sniffs, and I close my eyes, hating that she’s hurt ing. “I have been at war with myself all my life. Until you…Kashton Landon Pierce, my Lord. You helped me find peace.

And this is something that I could never re pay you for. Your mother would be proud of the man you’ve become, Kash. And I’m lucky to have been loved by you.” She pauses, and I close my eyes when I hear her whis per, “I love you, Kash.”

I find myself back on the bench at the end of the bed, rocking back and forth. I lis tened to her voice mail more times than I can count.

My sadness has turned to anger.

She knew what she was going to do when she called and said goodbye. I would have gone with her. Fought next to her. We could have died side by side. I’d never make her go alone.

Reach ing out, I pick up her wedding ring. I curl my fingers around it and close my eyes. I made her a prom ise, and I intend to keep it.

I won’t fail her again.

My plan when I woke up from the beating I got was that I’d just jump on my bike and drive it until I lost control, but that would put oth ers on the road with me at risk as well. I don’t want to hurt any‐ one. Not anymore. Plus, the bikers at the bar beat the fuck out of my bike with crow bars after they were done with me. So I now have no transportation. Not like I need to go anywhere anyway.

I set the ring down, pick up my re volver, and re move all the bullets except one. Then I spin the cylinder and shut it. It’s the same one my father gave me for my initiation. Who knew one day I’d need it.

“Keep it. Maybe one day you’ll put it to good use.”

I’m not even nervous or scared. I’ve made up my mind. I left a note for my broth ers. They’ll understand. They would do the same if they lost their wives. They have each other. They don’t need me.

Picking the ring up again, I hold it in my left hand. Then I bring the barrel of the gun to my right temple.

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and al most smile. It’s crazy how calming death can be when you’re ready to let go of life.

“I’m com ing, angel.”

Taking in one last breath, I pull the trigger.

EVERETT Eleven years old I sit huddled in the corner of the cell, my knees to my chest and my fore head resting on them.

“You fucking bitch,” the man growls, and I try to make myself smaller, push ing my naked body into the wall.

“You can’t stop him,” the woman tells the Lord as the door creaks when he opens her cell door.

He just found their son down here and dragged him off. I was hop‐ ing Cyrus wouldn’t re turn but he has.

“If you’d quit entertaining him, he’d stop coming to see you,” he

yells before I hear him slapping her.

I flinch, my body trembling.

“He’ll never be like you,” she screams. “He’ll never be a mon ster.”

I lift my head and look through the bars to see her on her bloody knees and him looming over her in her cell across from mine.

“I’ll tell you what, you worthless whore. Next time he comes to visit you, I’ll kill you right in front of him. Maybe that’s what the boy needs. Yeah, he needs to be disciplined. He needs to be taught a lesson. And I’ll start with you.” He exits her cell, slamming the bars shut and locking her inside.

He goes to walk away but spots me in the opposite cell. I scramble to press my back into the wall when he opens it.

“Leave her alone,” she screams.

He laughs, grabbing my hair and yanking me from the wall. “Did Daddy put you in time-out?” He yanks his belt from his pants and drags me over to the door. He wraps it around my wrists and pulls me to my feet. He ties his belt around the bar above my head.

“You fucking bastard,” she screams over my sobs. “Leave her alone.

She’s a child.”

“She’s go ing to be our whore.” He tangles my hair and shoves my cheek into the bars. “Aren’t you, bitch?” He slaps my ass, and I try to crawl through the bars to get away from him, but there’s nowhere for me to go.

His laughter fills the cell before he yanks open the door and closes it, leaving me tied to it.

He walks over to the woman and spits on her and then leaves us alone.

Tears and snot run down my face as I stand on my tiptoes, trying to free my wrists. When I do, I scramble to the back wall and pull my knees to my chest.

She falls onto her hands and lets out a blood-curdling scream that makes my ears ring. Her fists pound the floor, and each time, the pieces of bro ken light bulb cut her. After a few minutes, she falls back against the wall, and her tear-filled eyes meet mine. “He’s a good boy,” she tells me. “He’s going to be a good man.”

I hate to tell her but no one in this hell walks away holy.

“He’ll be nothing like his father. I’ll make sure of it.” Reaching out, she picks up a piece of glass.

I get to my hands and knees and crawl across the cell. “No.

Don’t—”

“That bas tard is a man of his word, and I will not be the reason my son turns into his father. I’d rather break his heart.” Her watery eyes fall to the glass in her hand. “Sometimes you have to hurt the one you love.” She re peats what she’d told him when he was down here earlier.

Blue eyes are on mine as she reaches up and runs the tip of the glass along her neck, sacrificing herself.

I blink. Harsh light has me lifting my hand to try and cover my eyes.

Groaning, I close them and let out a deep breath. “Fuck.” My chest hurts. Why does it feel like some thing is sitting on top of me? My hand goes to re move the bulletproof vest, think ing it’s still on, but there’s noth ing there.

“He-hello?” I ask roughly. My throat is sore, and my body is slug‐ gish.

Looking to my right, I see a bag hang ing that has a tube connected

to my arm. It’s an IV.

Where am I?

I man age to sit up, and the room sways. My hands go to my tem‐ ples, and I press on them, trying to calm my breathing. My heart is racing, and that pres sure on my chest is getting heavier.

“Kashton?” I clear my throat. Fuck, why is it so sore? Am I at Car‐ nage? Somewhere in the building I’ve never seen be fore?

Crawling out of bed, I get to my shaking feet and wobble like a newborn giraffe, try ing to re mind my legs how to work. I’ve never been so weak in my life. I slowly pull the IV from my arm and see a gown draped over the end of the bed. I pick it up and gently slide my arms into it because I’m naked. Then I take a quick glance at my body.

I’ve got bandages and bruises all over that I can see, and I can’t put much pres sure on my right leg, but I have to find Kashton. Did they kidnap me? The last thing I re member was lying on the floor in the cathe dral, bleeding out, with a gun pointed at my face.

Tying off the gown in the front, I make it to the door.

Opening it up, I look left and right to see a dimly lit hallway. Noth‐ ing but concrete walls, but there’s a door at the end on the right. I have a mo ment of panic that it’s Dollhouse. That they dragged me here and Kashton is being tortured in another room.

Everything was for nothing. I refuse to let them get away with this.

What has Kashton done? I’m the one who was killing Lords. I’m the one who re ported the video to Bill, alerting him to the fact that Hai‐ dyn was trapped in Dollhouse by Isabella. That led to the halt of Dollhouse. No one else would want to run that hell.

My heart races as I let the door close behind me and lean up against the wall to help keep me upright. I could use my gun, but I didn’t see it anywhere. They must have stripped me naked and saved my life just to make me watch them take my husband’s.

After a second, I pull up the gown, trying to get a better look at why I’m so slow and out of breath. I see stitches in my thigh and more in my arm.

Have I been drugged? Was that what was in the IV? With a quick glance around the hallway, I don’t see any red bulbs.

How long have I been out? Did I save Kashton? Is he in the clear?

What if everything I did was for nothing and they hurt him? I left my cell at Bar rington, so I don’t have any way to contact him, and there wasn’t one in the room I woke up in.

I hear a phone ringing at the end of the hall on the other side of the only door. Pushing off the wall, I grit my teeth from the sharp pain that runs up my side and push on, dragging my right leg behind me.

I put my hand on the knob. Turning it softly, I push it open just enough to peer inside it.

“Hello?” I see a familiar face answer the cell that sits on a desk.

What the fuck am I doing with him?

“I need you to come home.” I know that voice too. It’s Saint on the other end of the call.

“I can’t do that,” Adam says, falling into his chair. The top three buttons are undone on his button-down. He’s sans tie, sleeves rolled up, and he’s got a rag in his hands while cleaning off the blood that covers them.

“I don’t ask you for much. If anything,” Saint snaps, and then he lowers his tone. “But I need you. We all need you.”

“I’m sorry, Saint—”

“Haidyn has spent days in the basement. Days, Adam,” he growls.

“If I have to hear that damn ‘Hallelujah’ song one more time, I’m going to cut my fuck ing ears off.” Saint sighs. “And I hones tly don’t know what the fuck he’s doing down there because Kash killed most of our prisoners. We don’t have many left.”

Kashton. Thank God. He’s alive. Happy tears sting my eyes. He’s at Carnage. Safe. I can’t wait to see him. But if I’m not there, where

am I? And why?

“Have Charlotte help keep him busy—”

“Charlotte is pregnant with triplets,” Saint growls. “She can barely get out of bed at the mo ment. The poor thing can’t even keep down saltines. She is not capable of keeping her husbandbusy right now.”

Adam runs his now some what clean hands through his hair aggres‐ sively, then looks over to the right and shrugs.

I push the door open just a tad bit more to see who he’s looking at, and it’s Bill sitting in a chair.

What the fuck is going on? I want to storm in, but some thing is telling me to stay quiet. Plus, my moves are sluggish al ready. Storm‐

ing in is going to be a problem.

“It’ll be okay,” Adam assures him.

Saint snorts. “Kash is gone, Adam. Nothing here is okay.”

“What do you mean gone?” Adam sounds concerned, but his face doesn’t show it, causing me to frown.

“That’s why I’m calling you. After we buried Eve, he went fuck ing postal, Adam.”

Buried Eve? What the fuck is he talking about? I’m right here.

“Then he just left,” Saint goes on at Adam’s silence. “He packed a backpack and jumped on his bike. Haidyn tried to follow him, but he couldn’t keep up.”

“Find him,” Adam suggests, leaning back in his chair, getting com‐ fortable.

“What the fuck do you think we’re doing?” Saint snaps. “He never re placed his tracker. Hell, for all we know he took a corner too fast and is lying dead in a ditch some where.” He lowers his voice. “Sin and Ryat have been looking for him for over a week.”

Week? How long have I been here? Where the fuck is here? Why am I not with my husband? I look down at my left hand and notice I’m shaking and that my wedding ring is gone. I was wearing it when I entered the cathedral. If I was going to die, I was going to die as Mrs. Pierce.

A silence lingers between them, and I take a deep breath before I shove the door open. Two sets of eyes snap to mine. Adam immedi‐ ately jumps to his feet.

“Sa-int.” My voice is rough as I rush to the desk.

“Eve?” he barks.

“It’s me,” I say through the knot in my throat and pick up the cell before they can stop me. “I’m…alive. I’m here,” I rush out, trying to get as much information to him as possible. Maybe he knows where

Adam is, and that will lead them to me. I turn and run toward the door.

“What the fuck are you doing, Adam?” Saint shouts and then soft‐ ens his voice. “Eve where are you?”

All hope I had vanishes, and my stomach drops. Of course Adam is hid ing out. “I don’t know.” An arm wraps around me from behind be‐ fore I reach the door, and I scream, trying to fight them. “Please… Saint. Find Kashton. Tell him—” I cry out when a hand tightly grips

my wrist, causing me to drop the phone.

“Adam?” Saint shouts.

Adam bends down to pick up the cell.

“What the fuck—”

He ends the call, cutting off Saint. “Fuck,” he curses, tossing the phone across the room.

“Get her back to her room,” Bill demands, hand ing me over to

Adam.

“No.” I fight him, but it does no good.

He lifts me off my al ready shaking legs and carries me back to the room I es caped from. He shouts for some one before tossing me onto the bed, and a guy I don’t know enters.

“Yes, sir?”

“Re straints. Now,” he orders.

“Adam,” I try to reason with him. “I have to see Kash. He thinks I’m dead.”

“You need to rest,” he tells me. His voice is gentle, but his hands aren’t as he holds me down in the bed while the gown rips open. I don’t even care.

The guy pulls re straints out from underneath the bed, and I scream and fight, but they easily get my wrists se cured by my sides and then my ankles.

“Catheter and feeding tube. Now. They should have never been re‐ moved,” Adam snaps and then adds, “She will not leave this bed un‐ til I say. Understand?”

“Yes. Yes, sir,” the guy agrees, nodding quickly.

I’m gasping for breath when Adam pushes my wild hair from my face. His eyes are full of concern as they look over me. “This is what

you wanted, Eve.”

I shake my head, and snot runs from my nose.

He nods. “It’s going to be okay. I prom ise.”

“My husband…needs me,” I sob, trying to breathe. He’s out there all alone.

I feel a sting in my arm and look to see a new IV has been started.

Then I shiver when some thing cold fills my body, making me in‐ stantly re lax into the bed. “Kash—” My tongue feels swollen, and I can’t get his name out.

“It’s okay, Eve,” Adam re peats, then looks at the guy. “You do not leave this room.”

My eyes get heavy, and I have a problem keeping them open. Saint said Kash ton has been gone a week? How long before I see him?

Another week? Two? A month? I need to be with him right now.

“Get some rest. We’ll talk soon.”

It’s the last thing I hear before the darkness swallows me.