Page 28 of Blade
Even today, he’s on prospect duty, so I should be able to make it to the library before his shift ends.
“Yes, it is just sex for this month, then we’ll both go our separate ways,” I confirm instead of screaming at him like I want to, and he sighs but doesn’t say anything, knowing he hasn’t got a leg to stand on.
“Okay, just be careful, please, Luna. The Devils are dangerous men,” he says, and I nod once, not saying a word because I knowfirsthand that Brock is more dangerous than Blade where I am concerned.
Shaking his head at my silence, Axe looks around my place, a small smile now gracing his face and a little pride, but I don’t relish it.
I’m here because he couldn’t keep me safe. He didn’t even want me to move out, but I had to step up for myself because no one else would.
“You’ve done well here,” he mumbles, and I hum again, not saying anything and he sighs, “Mama misses you, Luna.” He looks my way and says, “You haven’t spoken to her since you moved out.”
“She barely spoke to me when I was there, Taylor,” I remind him, and he sighs again and again as he looks around the room, probably noticing the lack of photos except one, his eyes lingering on it for a moment.
Why have family pictures up when my family was never there for me?
I mean, my dad, even though he had a mistresses, at least cared enough to come to my school plays and to teach me how to ride a bike, and that is the only reason why one lone photo of him on his Harley without hit cut on, sits near my TV.
“She’s struggled with what you said at Dad’s funeral,” he mutters, staring at the photo of Dad smirking, and I blink.
This is the first time he’s mentioned it since then.
“I get it. You were upset, you lost dad, the only parent to pay attention to you, and Mama was badmouthing him, then his mistress showed up in tears,” he murmurs and looks my way with sad eyes. “You made an accusation that could have harmed a good man, but you were hurting and just wanted your mother, and I understood that. Brock understood it, but surely now is the time to bury the hatchet with everyone? To apologize for your hurtful words and move back home?”
It takes everything in me not to shout at him, to charge at him and hit him before showing him my stomach and back, to show him the branding marks his VP has done to me.
Still, after all this time, he thinks I’m lying. He believes his friend is innocent.
Good man, my ass.
I tilt my head at him and ask, “You still think I was making it up? That I would be evil enough to lie about something so serious?”
Anger shines in his eyes, and he snaps, “Brock sees you as his little sister, and yeah, I think you were lying, and I still think you were selfish. I just decided to see your side of things because of our mothers’ actions! He’d never rape any girl, let alone you, Luna. You could have destroyed him!”
Shame I didn’t then, I wouldn’t have spent years being abused and I’d only have one burn mark on my hip because over the years, he’s managed to make a B out of them.
I nod slowly, then whisper, “I think you should leave,” not bothering to tell him his‘friend’who sees me as a sister, is raping me every chance he gets, that he marks my body to brand me as his, that he is adamant to claim me in the eyes of the club against my will.
He wouldn’t believe me anyway.
“Luna…” Taylor sighs, but I point to the door, and he shakes his head and mumbles, “One of these days, you’re going to lose everyone around you because of the lies you continue to stick with.”
He turns and leaves without another word, and my tears fall as the door shuts.
I mutter, “Wrong, big brother. I lost everyone the day you all called me a liar and basically gave your best friend the go-ahead to ruin my life.”
I stand still for a few minutes, my tears falling, my heart breaking, and I don't know how to function.
How can he stand there and not question why I haven’t taken back what I accused Brock of?
How can he not see the pain I’m in every day?
How could he not realize that I had tried to stay away from the club after the first time it happened?
I wipe my tears away with frustration, refusing to cry over this again before grabbing my bag and phone. I need to get to the library before it closes for lunch, and more importantly, I need to leave and get back into the safety of this building where cameras line every inch inside before Brock finishes with the prospects.
I sigh as I walk back from the library, the four books weighing down my bag, and I mumble, “I should have driven….”
I’m trying to save money on gas, especially now that I’ve had to fork out cash for parking.
