Page 6 of Drowning

"Nice try." I lean next to her, blowing smoke rings into the air.

"What are you saying?" She turns to me, perplexed, her cute nose scrunching.

"Your makeup is starting to wear off. I can see the bruises, Little One," I say softly, trying not to upset her.

"Kane, please," she begs, casting her gaze downward.

I step in front of her and slide my hand under her chin, causing her head to tilt slightly back. My blood boils as I examine the collection of bruises, and it feels as if acid is coursing through my veins.

"Didhefucking do that to you?"

She nods, but doesn't say anything.

"I'll fucking kill him," I growl, pressing my forehead against hers, wanting so fucking bad to kiss her.

"He'll k–"

"What the fuck, Emerson?" Damon yells, "I have been looking everywhere for you," as he storms over to us and rips her away from me.

"Don't ever fucking grab her like that again," I threaten, noticing Emerson's fearful expression.

"She'smyfucking girl, and I've told her to stay the fuck away from this place unlessI'mwith her."

"Kane, it's okay. Just please, stop," Emerson begs, her gaze drawn to Damon's waistband and the Glock tucked inside.

I want to fucking kill him.

But I stop provoking him and let it go, as much as it fucking kills me. Cus she's right. He's unhinged tonight, and no one knows what he's capable of. These killer thoughts inside myhead keep screaming at me to kill him, but Emerson has seen enough death lately.

Nonetheless, he must be dealt with.

I take a step back, my fists clenched at my sides, watching Damon pull her back into the bar. Eli appears behind me, a worried expression on his face as he searches for his sister.

"Kane, I didn't know you were outside," he starts, but I cut him off.

"I just wanted some air," I say, avoiding his gaze as I walk toward the back door. The walk is difficult, with tension filling every void in my mind. Emerson's face, her bruises. Damon's possessive nature. I need to make it right.

Back in the bar's garage, the guys are preparing for the evening when Emerson enters, her head held high but the same sadness lingering in her glass blue eyes. She is apprehensive at first, watching the men prepare their bikes and generally just kind of existing from the sidelines for the most part. I can tell it's her way of gauging the situation. But I know she is willing and ready when I watch her fiddling with the bullets scattered all over the table.

As we gear up, I pull her aside. "You don't have to go with us, Little One. You don't have to do this. What did you even tell Damon?" I ask her.

She looks me dead in the eye with a smirk and says, "I don't want to talk about it." After that, she mounts her bike beside mine, and I give her a shoulder pat before we fire up our engines.

We've got a ride to make. And it's not just for the run. We've got some rules to fucking break.

The teasing summer breeze pushes my bike as I ride, gripping the handlebar with one hand, my other resting on my hip. Looking beside me, I watch Emerson ride, lost in her own little world as she becomes one with the open road. Even through her helmet, I can tell she's distracted, even though she swore to me she was fine. I can tell something other than Damon is bothering her, but her stubborn ass won't tell me.

...unless I force it out of her.

Filthy thoughts begin to bombard my mind, and I start to become distracted as I ride, thinking of all the ways I'd be able to convince her.

When we come up to a light only miles away from the pickup site, Emerson stops on one side of me and Seven on the other, the rumble of the bikes drowning out the rest of the city noise around us. With Emerson's visor open, I pierce my eyes deeply into hers, but she looks away, immediately breaking eye contact. I can see the internal struggle fucking with her and her feelings for the forbidden, making her question her morals.

She speeds off as the light turns green, leaving a cloud of dirt in her wake from her bike's back tire. Seven and I eventually catch up to her just as she's pulling down the long, dark driveway, which leads to a secluded three story house set in the cut. Dogs bark upon our arrival, being yanked back by the chains looped around their necks as we stand in front of the gated yard.

"Is everything okay?" I ask, pulling off my helmet and setting it on the seat of my bike.

She shrugs, keeping her helmet on. "Fine," she says, again, walking ahead of Seven and I with determination in her gait.