Everything passed in a blur once I made that phone call to Dante. Within minutes, or at least that’s what it felt like, dozens of bikers came roaring round the corner, ready to protect their president’s old lady.
Too little, too late, boys. I protected myself.
Again.
We were immediately rushed to the hospital. Pivot had brought the van with him, and Shark was laid down in the back of it as we sped through the busy streets of Leeds. I was numb to it all. I watched Hacksaw apply pressure on Shark’s wounds. I listened as Dante and Vienna yelled instructions down the radio. I saw the blood still coating my hands, the sticky goo from his eyeballs under my fingernails, my ripped clothing, replaying the entire scene in my mind, and still I was numb to it.
I didn’t feel the pain in my head. I didn’t feel the blood still pouring from my lips. Dante had quickly inspected me and said my head was not split open, so there was that, at least. But I’d have a nasty headache in the morning.
Hacksaw handed me an ice pack, and I applied it to my mouth, still not fully registering what the fuck had just happened. I was given a dress to wear, and I managed not to roll my eyes as I slipped it over my clothes. At least I was covered. I hadn’t even realised the man had ripped my underwear.
All I could do was count my blessings that the kids were not with me, that they hadn’t had to see this side of their mother. This wasn’t a side I wanted them to know.
The looks Dante had thrown me let me know he would be pressing me for more information later, and for once, I didn’t dread it. I’d welcome the interrogation if it meant we would capture those responsible. I recognised the cut as belonging to the Rough Riders, and I was ready for war, unless they could prove these two were acting on their own and not on club orders. That happened sometimes. There was a truce, but the two clubs were still rivals. There were weekly accounts of fights and brawls taking place. For their sake, they had to hope that this was not a presidential order.
I realised then that my thought process had changed. No longer did I meet situations like this and want to run from the club. Instead, I wanted to be by Dante’s side, as we slaughtered the men responsible for this.
And I would. With or without the club’s help. I would make them pay for what they did to Shark. I would find who it was and make them regret what they planned to do to me. There was no man on this earth that would stop me from getting my vengeance.
As soon as we arrived at the hospital, Shark was loaded onto a stretcher and whisked away. I brushed off the doctors' efforts to help me. I suffered surface wounds at best. I could deal with those myself. I wanted no more hands on me. I’d more than had enough of people touching me without my consent.
They told Dante I was suffering from shock, stress, and possibly PTSD. This came after Dante had a chat with them, so lord knew what he had told them about my past. But I accepted their pills, knowing full well I had no intention of taking them. I was not depressed. I’d get my serotonin boost in the form of bathing in the blood of those stupid enough to attack me whilst my guard was down. Nothing else would suffice.
Shark, on the other hand, was not so lucky. He was wheeled straight to the intensive care unit, and only immediate family were allowed in.
As soon as the doctors gave me the all clear, I went home, swapping places with Jenna so she could be by Shark’s side, and I would deal with the children.
The doctors tried to convince me to stay. Dante tried to convince me to stay. But there was nothing else I could do. Dante wouldn’t have time to deal with me—and I didn’t expect him to. He was organising a clean-up crew for the mess I had made in that alleyway. He was trying to fend off the police, reporters, and anyone else stupid enough to try to get his attention right now. The best thing for me to do was go home, deal with the children, take some paracetamol, and try to write everything down whilst it was fresh in my mind. Dante would be back to question me, and I wanted him to know everything as I remembered it.
So, as soon as I put all the kids to bed, I sat on the sofa, pen and paper in hand, and scribbled down what had happened. I left out no detail, even the attempted rape. What would be the point? Dante and the club needed to know it all.
After a while, my head began to throb, and I sat back, my vision blurring. I looked at seashells on the coffee table and closed my eyes.
God.
Only yesterday I had been with him and the kids, having an amazing day. And in the blink of an eye, everything had changed.
Fuck’s sake!
I needed a fucking drink. I couldn’t sit here in silence any longer, thinking about the utter shambles of my life.
I stormed through to the bar and grabbed a glass off the shelf, pouring myself a double shot of whiskey, throwing it back instantly. I cringed slightly at the burn and poured another, throwing it back just as quickly.
I was about to start on my third when the door crashed open, and the grim faces of Vienna and Dante appeared.
“Hello to you, too,” I muttered when neither of them spoke to me.
“Don’t start,” Vienna snapped at me, grabbing a bottle of beer.
“Didn’t even say a fucking word. But isn’t thathisline?” I said, nodding my head in Dante’s direction.
“Don’t start,” he repeated, his tone equally as feral as Vienna’s had been.
I threw back my shot before nodding at them and slamming the glass on the bar. “How is Shark?” I asked, and they both shot me weary looks.
“Brilliant. Thanks for answering me. I’ve been writing it all down for you, by the way,” I said, tossing the notebook in their direction. “So before you go thinking up your own little narrative, there’s an exact play-by-play of what went down.”
“We know what fucking went down, Rachel,” Dante all but snarled at me.
