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Story: Creed's Vengeance
He was the spitting image of everything you should run from. He was the man that blue-collar parents warned you about, and yes, maybe it was because road dust covered him, that blood smeared the patches on his cut, and his knuckles were bleeding and clearly bruising. Blood slowly dripped from a cut lip, but as he ran his fingers through his hair, I knew that he wasn’t the sinner most would see him as.
Pushing the blankets off, I got up and slowly walked toward him. I watched as his eyes ran over me, almost to check if I was okay. But I was far from okay, and I doubted I would ever be “okay” again.
My eyes were red and slightly swollen, and I felt as cold as ice—from exhaustion and being consumed with fear.
However, that didn’t stop me from standing in front of him. My hand slowly cupped his cheek while my thumb wiped the blood away from his lip. I looked up at him, and I saw his intense stare.
Looking into his intense smoldering gray eyes, I knew that today, he had done things he could never tell me.
He slowly lowered his forehead to mine, his gaze holding mine, and in that second, I knew I had a choice—to be by his side as he faced this or let him face this one on his own. For some reason, it felt like a life-defining moment. I’d never vowed to be by his side, yet right now, I knew that was the only place I wanted to be. So as I linked my hand with his, my fingers moving over his bleeding knuckles, I watched as the ghosts slowly disappeared from his eyes, and I pulled back on his hand. I watched the confusion play across his face until I let go of his hand and peeled off the T-shirt he gave me earlier. As it dropped at my feet, I saw the hollowness drain from his eyes as lust crept through his deep gray eyes.
Standing only in my panties, my hands went to his vest, and I pushed it down his arms. As his calculating eyes locked on me, my hand went to his gray T-shirt, which had blood on it. Just as I pushed it over his abdomen, he gripped the bottom of it and pulled it off. In one fluent moment, he pulled me against his tattooed chest. As his hands ran up my sides, I pretended I wasn’t nervous that I could stand by his side without letting the love I felt for him consume me once more.
He had burnt me once, and now I stood basically naked in front of him, all while knowing he could knife out my heart again. Perhaps this was the definition of addiction—to know it will kill you, yet risking and hoping that it won’t.
His thumbs went to my panties, and he threaded them down, lowering his body in front of me. Just as I stepped out of the black lace, his hands gripped my thighs, and he lifted me up. My legs went around his waist as we headed to the bathroom.
Was it love, lust, or grief that made me risk my heart on Creed again? I wasn’t sure, but as I kissed his broken, bleeding lips while he held me pressed to his chest, all I knew was that when the lines were drawn, I would always be by his side.
It wasn’t love that was lit within me as he kissed me back; it was my pure intoxicating addiction to him as I tasted the whiskey on his lips. Placing me on the vanity, I watched as he undid his belt and pushed his jeans down. His legs were now completely tattooed, leaving barely any skin not tattooed. My fingers reached out, and I softly traced his chest tattoo, the club’s emblem mixed with a code detailed around skull heads. It had never made more sense.
He took my hand from his chest, kissing my knuckles before placing it on the back of his neck, then he lifted me back up and walked me into the shower. I turned the tap on as he held me under it. For a split moment, it felt as if the water was able to wash the sorrows of the day away until he pulled me out of the spray and pushed me back against the bathroom tiles.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, bringing my face to his.
I didn’t want to make love. No, I wanted him to fuck the ability to think from my mind because all day, I had sat on that bed, dwelling on things outside of my control, waiting on news, consumed with worry.
I wanted him to fuck the madness from my mind. Then he thrust into me, and I got my wish.
I wasn’t going to lie. I had it bad, but then, as soon as she was out of sight, the chaos I was facing flooded my thoughts. They had attacked silently, and there was no doubting it was done on my father’s orders.
He was waiting on my next move. Did I retaliate, or did I keep knocking down street gangs’ doors, demanding answers? When the men found out I was leading a war against my own blood, would they stand by me? Would they believe that I wanted my father dead just as much as they did?
The club made a move to wipe out the trafficking, and weeks later, this happened. There was no denying only one man would have a problem with Hades’s ability to begin to shut down a trafficking circle. My father. Gamble Winston. The man had made his name, the Winston’s name, by abusing the rights of women. But most of all, he was seen as untouchable. The question was, could the heir that was meant to take over from him be the one to not just wipe out his operation but end his life? Hades had started the war, but I was prepared to take it over.
And so the club war became a war against a father and son.
However, before I could make one move, I had a phone call to make, an international one.
I didn’t need Hades’s brothers to approve my plans, but I also wasn’t stupid. They, like every other fucking person in the underworld, were waiting for our club’s next move—my move.
So I would call Khaos and Thanatos Kincaid, but to do that, I’d have to talk to Holly because it was no secret that her uncles didn’t take phone calls, not even one coming from the acting president of their eldest brother’s MC.
Connor was unwell. We’d assumed it was just a cold, but I saw the toll it was taking on Ivy, having both Ollie and Connor to look after. So I decided I was taking Ollie for the night.
“Hol, carry me?” Ollie continued to ask as she tapped my hip, wanting me to pick her up. Dad would carry her everywhere, and as much as I loved holding Ollie, I just didn’t have the muscles to carry her around all day, and neither did Ivy.
“Hold on a sec, Ollie. I’m trying to get the door unlocked,” I said while groaning because the key wouldn’t work for one of the spare dorm rooms.
I really should have set up my own room earlier and not just stayed with Creed.
My phone buzzed in my back pocket. I pulled it out only because Mom would only message when she needed something, but I saw Creed’s name, not hers.
Creed: Where are you?
It was after nine at night, and I had tried, with Ivy, to get Ollie to sleep, but Ollie wouldn’t settle. Ivy went on to tell me that Ollie hadn’t been sleeping at all. Between caring for Connor and Ollie’s lack of sleeping, Ivy looked exhausted, so I was prepared to stay up all night with Ollie if that was what it took.
My fingers typed across the keyboard, telling Creed I was sleeping in one of the spare dorm rooms with Ollie tonight, and I then went back to trying to unlock the door.
Pushing the blankets off, I got up and slowly walked toward him. I watched as his eyes ran over me, almost to check if I was okay. But I was far from okay, and I doubted I would ever be “okay” again.
My eyes were red and slightly swollen, and I felt as cold as ice—from exhaustion and being consumed with fear.
However, that didn’t stop me from standing in front of him. My hand slowly cupped his cheek while my thumb wiped the blood away from his lip. I looked up at him, and I saw his intense stare.
Looking into his intense smoldering gray eyes, I knew that today, he had done things he could never tell me.
He slowly lowered his forehead to mine, his gaze holding mine, and in that second, I knew I had a choice—to be by his side as he faced this or let him face this one on his own. For some reason, it felt like a life-defining moment. I’d never vowed to be by his side, yet right now, I knew that was the only place I wanted to be. So as I linked my hand with his, my fingers moving over his bleeding knuckles, I watched as the ghosts slowly disappeared from his eyes, and I pulled back on his hand. I watched the confusion play across his face until I let go of his hand and peeled off the T-shirt he gave me earlier. As it dropped at my feet, I saw the hollowness drain from his eyes as lust crept through his deep gray eyes.
Standing only in my panties, my hands went to his vest, and I pushed it down his arms. As his calculating eyes locked on me, my hand went to his gray T-shirt, which had blood on it. Just as I pushed it over his abdomen, he gripped the bottom of it and pulled it off. In one fluent moment, he pulled me against his tattooed chest. As his hands ran up my sides, I pretended I wasn’t nervous that I could stand by his side without letting the love I felt for him consume me once more.
He had burnt me once, and now I stood basically naked in front of him, all while knowing he could knife out my heart again. Perhaps this was the definition of addiction—to know it will kill you, yet risking and hoping that it won’t.
His thumbs went to my panties, and he threaded them down, lowering his body in front of me. Just as I stepped out of the black lace, his hands gripped my thighs, and he lifted me up. My legs went around his waist as we headed to the bathroom.
Was it love, lust, or grief that made me risk my heart on Creed again? I wasn’t sure, but as I kissed his broken, bleeding lips while he held me pressed to his chest, all I knew was that when the lines were drawn, I would always be by his side.
It wasn’t love that was lit within me as he kissed me back; it was my pure intoxicating addiction to him as I tasted the whiskey on his lips. Placing me on the vanity, I watched as he undid his belt and pushed his jeans down. His legs were now completely tattooed, leaving barely any skin not tattooed. My fingers reached out, and I softly traced his chest tattoo, the club’s emblem mixed with a code detailed around skull heads. It had never made more sense.
He took my hand from his chest, kissing my knuckles before placing it on the back of his neck, then he lifted me back up and walked me into the shower. I turned the tap on as he held me under it. For a split moment, it felt as if the water was able to wash the sorrows of the day away until he pulled me out of the spray and pushed me back against the bathroom tiles.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, bringing my face to his.
I didn’t want to make love. No, I wanted him to fuck the ability to think from my mind because all day, I had sat on that bed, dwelling on things outside of my control, waiting on news, consumed with worry.
I wanted him to fuck the madness from my mind. Then he thrust into me, and I got my wish.
I wasn’t going to lie. I had it bad, but then, as soon as she was out of sight, the chaos I was facing flooded my thoughts. They had attacked silently, and there was no doubting it was done on my father’s orders.
He was waiting on my next move. Did I retaliate, or did I keep knocking down street gangs’ doors, demanding answers? When the men found out I was leading a war against my own blood, would they stand by me? Would they believe that I wanted my father dead just as much as they did?
The club made a move to wipe out the trafficking, and weeks later, this happened. There was no denying only one man would have a problem with Hades’s ability to begin to shut down a trafficking circle. My father. Gamble Winston. The man had made his name, the Winston’s name, by abusing the rights of women. But most of all, he was seen as untouchable. The question was, could the heir that was meant to take over from him be the one to not just wipe out his operation but end his life? Hades had started the war, but I was prepared to take it over.
And so the club war became a war against a father and son.
However, before I could make one move, I had a phone call to make, an international one.
I didn’t need Hades’s brothers to approve my plans, but I also wasn’t stupid. They, like every other fucking person in the underworld, were waiting for our club’s next move—my move.
So I would call Khaos and Thanatos Kincaid, but to do that, I’d have to talk to Holly because it was no secret that her uncles didn’t take phone calls, not even one coming from the acting president of their eldest brother’s MC.
Connor was unwell. We’d assumed it was just a cold, but I saw the toll it was taking on Ivy, having both Ollie and Connor to look after. So I decided I was taking Ollie for the night.
“Hol, carry me?” Ollie continued to ask as she tapped my hip, wanting me to pick her up. Dad would carry her everywhere, and as much as I loved holding Ollie, I just didn’t have the muscles to carry her around all day, and neither did Ivy.
“Hold on a sec, Ollie. I’m trying to get the door unlocked,” I said while groaning because the key wouldn’t work for one of the spare dorm rooms.
I really should have set up my own room earlier and not just stayed with Creed.
My phone buzzed in my back pocket. I pulled it out only because Mom would only message when she needed something, but I saw Creed’s name, not hers.
Creed: Where are you?
It was after nine at night, and I had tried, with Ivy, to get Ollie to sleep, but Ollie wouldn’t settle. Ivy went on to tell me that Ollie hadn’t been sleeping at all. Between caring for Connor and Ollie’s lack of sleeping, Ivy looked exhausted, so I was prepared to stay up all night with Ollie if that was what it took.
My fingers typed across the keyboard, telling Creed I was sleeping in one of the spare dorm rooms with Ollie tonight, and I then went back to trying to unlock the door.