Page 87 of Sinner's Malice

“I don’t know what the fuck just happened, but Torment’s right. You both need help. The board voted to give you time. Well, after this shit, I can’t. I’m ordering you into therapy, Malice. The both of you. Understood?” Montana sneered, glaring directly at me.

I nodded.

“Well, gentlemen. My job here is done. Until next time.”

“There won’t be a fucking next time, asshole,” Montana clipped as Sin laughed, walking away.

“There will always be a next time with you Soulless Sinners.”

As I carried her through the clubhouse, I felt a sense of déjà vu as everyone around me gaped in shock at the state of her.

Not that I gave a fuck.

None of them would ever understand the torrent of pain the both of us had experienced. What we’d suffered, endured, and survived.

We owed no one nothing.

We didn’t need to explain ourselves.

We were survivors, and nothing or no one could take that away from us. Our pasts molded us into the people we were today. The club could either accept us as is or fuck off.

I was done pretending to be something I wasn’t.

I was a killer. A brutally scarred man with a sensational appetite to eradicate those who tormented and abused others. Ifthat meant I wasn’t fit for normal society, then so be it. I was good with that.

Kicking my bedroom door shut behind me, I walked her into the bathroom, carefully placing her in the bathtub, and that’s when it hit me.

This wasn’t the first time we’d been in this situation.

Sighing, I shook my head and, like before, I gathered everything I needed. Kneeling before her, I brushed her blood-coated hair away from her face, as she softly moaned, turning into my touch.

Opening her eyes, she looked at me.

“Malice.”

“It’s alright, baby. I’ve got you.”

After helping her remove her bloody clothes, I turned on the faucet and silently sat next to her as the tub filled with warm water. Like before, she didn’t stop me as I washed and rinsed her hair. When she was clean, I emptied the tub, wrapped a clean towel around her and dried her off. Sitting her on my bed, I took care with her hair, knowing she had a sensitive head, and when her hair was tangle free, I pulled back the covers and helped her into the bed.

Through it all, neither of us talked.

What was there to say? She did exactly what I’d wanted to do for years. I thought it was fitting in a way. Last year, I had helped kill her tormentor. It was only fitting that she killed mine.

Watching her sleep, I wondered what I’d done to have her in my life.

By my own accounts, I should be dead. Like her, I had tried on more than one occasion to end my life, though I would never tell her that. I got it. I really did. Life was hard enough without the horrors that loomed in the shadows. I had stopped her, and Sin had stopped me.

Maybe that was why I was drawn to her, because of our shared pasts. She was the only person in this club that got me. Understood my moods, my anger, my desire to kill. She never complained. She accepted me for who I was, no questions asked. She trusted me when others didn’t.

A soft knock at the door had me turning to see Torment peeking his head inside.

“How is she?”

“Sleeping,” I muttered, turning back to her. “I didn’t want this life for her, Torment. I never did. That’s why I left her in Vegas, gave her money, and paid for the room, so she could have a safe place to heal. I knew if I stayed, I wouldn’t be able to leave her. I tried to keep her away from it all and failed.”

“No, you didn’t,” he said, stepping into my room. “You and Arianwen are so much alike, Malice. You both share a horrible past. You can’t protect her from that. Like she can’t protect you from yours. But what you both can do, is to be there for each other. Like you are now.”

“I don’t know how to be what she needs.”