Page 5 of Blade (The Dark Angel’s MC #1)

Luna – Twenty Years Old

“Luna!” My brother shouts from across the common room as I sit beside my mother, and I wince.

Damn, I was hoping he’d be balls deep in club girls right about now. I’ve already seen him getting sucked near the bar by Blondie, meaning I only had to show my face for five minutes then I could leave.

“What did you do this time?” Mama asks with a sigh from beside me, but I don’t look at her because, honestly, there is only one thing I’ve done, and he can’t know about that.

Swallowing, I look towards my big brother in the entrance to the dark hallway where his office is and where they hold church, his hands on his hips, and I wince at the look he is giving me.

Where I have long, caramel, wavy hair, his is light brown, and where I have dark brown eyes, his are light brown, more honey color like our father’s.

We don’t look alike in the looks aspect, but our facial features are the same, though right now, I don’t think I have ever seen him look this angry before, and I know it’s a look I can’t even do.

Damn, what did I do?

I try to think back, but nothing comes to mind.

“What is this shit I hear about you moving out?!” he demands loudly, and everyone pauses, looking my way in shock.

The music is switched off, and fear rushes through me, but not because the club is looking at me or because Mama has stood up, knocking her chair over but because Brock has shoved the clubwhore off his member and is glaring my way with a red face as he does his jeans up.

I swallow hard. How in the hell did he find out? I only just paid my down payment this morning, and I paid in cash just so it couldn’t be traced.

After years of working at the club’s diner and saving everything, I can finally move out of Mama’s and off club property, away from my tormentor who looks ready to blow.

Things haven’t eased over the years. If anything, he has gotten more aggressive, which has made me more determined to leave this place.

Axe made it perfectly clear a few years ago in front of everyone in the club that I wasn’t allowed to date until I graduated college, not wanting my focus to be anywhere else other than on schoolwork when he overheard me tell one of the old ladies I was asked out on a date, a date I turned down instantly.

I didn’t know the guy much, only seen him in passing, and I didn’t want the club to make his life hell. More like I didn’t want Brock to kill him, which I know sounds like an exaggeration, but it isn’t because, in the end, the guy disappeared.

When Brock heard my brother’s demand, he lost it. He broke my wrist, angry that the rule was in place, that he couldn’t claim me as he planned despite screwing the club girls. He caught me off guard in the kitchen two days after the guy, whose name I still don’t know, went missing.

I sigh as I walk into the kitchen, my brother’s words replaying in my head from a few days ago. I’m still angry that he can treat me like a child. He has no right to decide when I can and cannot date, something I told him in front of everyone. Not that I will date anyway, but he doesn’t know that.

He’s not my dad. He’s not even my savior. He’s allowed evil into his club, evil that won’t let me go and has squashed any hope of a future.

My eyes burn with unshed tears, knowing Brock will most likely be harder on me knowing he can’t claim me like he planned next week before the club with Axe’s rule. He’s kept his distance for two days, but I know my time is slowly dying out until he snaps.

Maybe I could sleep in the club truck for the next few nights…

Just as the thought hits me, I’m grabbed roughly by the wrist, and I gasp in pain before I’m yanked against a hard body.

My eyes lock with Brock's, and nothing but pure fury shines in his light hazel eyes. His pupils are dilated, and true fear hits me hard.

I feel my tears building, the lump in my throat forming as my heart pounds, as I try to get out of his grip, but he tightens it, making me flinch.

“Allowing others to touch what is mine, are we?” he sneers, and I instantly shake my head as dark spots enter my vision, my fear consuming me. “No, funny, because that’s not what Axe said in front of everyone, and now, I can’t put my fucking patch where it belongs!”

Brock squeezes my wrist tighter and my tears fall because as if in slow motion, I know what he’s about to do and I know I can’t stop it.

He yanks my wrist sideways, and I feel a snap as blinding pain shoots through my hand and arm.

I cry out before he throws me on the floor.

I land with a lump, my head banging on the counter before Brock follows me.

I flinch, expecting him to inflict more pain, but instead, he gently grabs my wrist, and the kitchen door opens, and his facial features change, his tone softening.

“Ah, treasure, what did you do?” he asks softly and my heart hammers.

“What happened?” I hear my brother ask and Brock keeps eye contact with me and lies, “I was in the pantry with Blondie when I heard a thump and found her on the floor. It looks like she may have broken her wrist.”

Axe spent the whole time at the hospital having a go at me for not being more careful, all while Brock acted like the concerned VP, only to then rape me twice that very same night while burning my flesh as punishment.

After years of hell, I finally have a way to leave, and I won’t allow my brother to stop me. I’m an adult now, so he has no claim.

I keep eye contact with my big brother, who is waiting for my answer. His brow is arched, his hands on his hips and anger radiates off him that I can feel from here.

I didn’t want to come here tonight. I’ve been on my feet all day at work after another waitress called in sick, and I'm dog-tired. I also have a paper to write for my clinical psychology class.

Working and going to school full-time is hard enough, but having Brock come to my room every night is tiring. I can’t cope anymore, and honestly, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve thought about just ending it altogether.

I chuckle internally. How pathetic is that, huh?

I’m currently in school hoping to go for my PhD so I can help people that have been in my position, who have been abused and raped, to help them want to live and fight against their traumas.

Yet here I am, already wondering how deep I need to press with a knife on my wrist to bleed out.

“Answer me, Luna!” Axe demands, and I try and swallow the lump in my throat.

“I’m twenty-two, Axe,” I remind him, and his eyes narrow.

“You’re also a club princess, Luna, meaning you aren’t safe outside of these gates full-time!” he snaps back, and I have to hold in my chuckle at his words.

I’m safe here though? Sure...

Mama adds, “You are not moving out! This is your home, and like hell am I burying you next to your cheating father!”

I shake my head and bite my bottom lip, not wanting to snap back at her and I mouth, ‘My cheating father,’ with a mock and Axe winces seeing my action.

Everyone in this room knows she’s screwing Screwball, a taken brother.

The only person who is unaware is Cleo, his old lady, his pregnant old lady at that.

He didn’t want Mama, but suddenly, one morning, he woke up with her in his bed, and they were both naked.

She claimed he started things, and she promised to tell Cleo unless he continued to screw her, and instead of going to his woman, he went along with Mama’s threats despite knowing she could be lying and now five months later, he’s still doing as she demanded all behind an amazing woman’s back.

Mama is a hypocrite and pathetic. She’s just like all the club girls in this room, wanting a brother’s patch. She knows Axe won’t keep paying for her forever, and she also knows the brothers won’t disrespect my father’s memory by touching her.

“I am twenty-two,” I repeat, stronger this time, “I work full-time, and I go to school full-time,” I lock eyes with Axe, “It’s time for me to stand on my own two feet, and you don’t own me, you can’t tell me what I can and cannot do,” he scowls, but I finish bravely, “I paid the deposit plus the first month’s rent on the lease.

It has good security doors and is in a safe area.

It’s time for me to leave and find myself outside this club and honestly, there is nothing you can do to stop me. ”

He shakes his head as Mama’s breathing gets heavier, and I sigh, “I have a paper to write.” Then I stand, not willing to stay in this room any longer than I have to.

“You’re just letting her get away with this?” Brock demands, and I hide my flinch as I make my way to the exit with all eyes on me.

I hear Axe sigh, “You heard her. She’s an adult, Brock. She wants independence, and we can’t take that away from her. She works her ass off and hasn’t asked for anything, even as a child. If she wants to move off club property, I’ll help her, but only after I vetted the apartment building.”

My heart flutters a little at his words, though it doesn’t dampen my hate towards him for keeping that man around.

Just as I reach the door, I hear Mama growl, “She is not moving off club property, Taylor, or so help me god…” while Brock snarls, “Wow, pres, first allowing one of the Dark Angels’ women to get away with splitting my lip and keying my prized possession, my fucking bike, and now this?”

The door shuts behind me, so I don’t hear my brother's reply, but I do hear his standard growl. I flinch but don’t stop my stride to my dark red Toyota Corolla.

I have a paper to write.

I blink several times as the words blur before me, then groan, throwing my pen down and giving up. I’ve been at this for nearly two hours and don’t think I can continue. I’m tired, so goddamn tired, and my whole body aches, and not just because I’ve been bent over my old wooden desk.

My body is still trying to heal from Brock’s abuse last night where he tied me to my bed and did whatever he wanted, with whatever he wanted.

I swallow hard trying to push back the horrors of the deodorant can tearing me and look at the clock and sigh but more with relief.

He would have normally shown up half an hour ago, knowing Mama would be with Screwball. He’s most likely with his regular girl, Crissy, at the club to get his anger out, and I can’t help the relief that fills me as I release a breath.

Shaking my head, I pack up my work, then stand, lifting my arms above my head and stretching, my back aching as I look around my nearly packed up room.

Tomorrow, I move into my apartment and honestly, it can’t come quick enough.

Rolling out my shoulders, I remove my top.

I ignore the bruises along my ribs and hips and quickly undo the button of my jeans and remove them along with my panties, sneakers, and socks, and begin to walk towards my bathroom, ignoring the mirror Mama ordered I keep after I tried throwing it out.

A hot shower is calling my name, but just as I touch the door handle my door opens suddenly, crashing against the wall and I still, my whole body locking up as heavy breathing echoes in my room.

No. He’s supposed to be with Crissy. He didn’t come when he normally does… No, no, no, no.

I’m vaguely aware that I’m nearly naked, only my bra in place, as his footsteps stomp towards me, and the relief I had only five minutes ago turns into absolute fear, and my tears fall.

I can’t keep doing this, I can’t.

I can feel my pulse race, and my body begins to shut down. The fight I used to have years ago is well and truly gone, knowing what is about to happen yet again, especially knowing how mad he’s going to be about me moving out.

His hand fists in my loose hair tightly, and I quickly grab his hands out of instinct to push him away while digging my nails into his skin, hoping to hurt him, but he ignores me and yanks me back, and I cry out in pain before he shoves me to the floor, ensuring my knees land with a thump.

Pain rickets through my body as I hear him unbuckle his belt before suddenly, he grabs both my arms, forcing the front of my body forward, my head banging on my floor making me dizzy and my nose throb.

I blink several times, trying to get my wits about me as I feel my hands being tied by his belt, the leather digging into my wrist, and I cry out again as he pulls hard, the position of my arms bending in an unnatural angle behind my back instantly hurting as he pushes me face down again, using my arms as his hold on me and I feel wetness underneath my nose.

I’m bleeding.

I tense as I hear the rustling of a condom wrapper before he places his member at my dry entrance.

He murmurs, “If you think I’m going to allow my woman to move out, to try and see other people, then you’ve got another thing coming,” before thrusting hard and sharp pains shoot through my insides, and bile rises.

I thrash against him, trying to dislodge him but he pulls his hold on my arms to keep me in place sending more pain through my body.

Tears spill as he thrusts hard and fast, using my body muttering, “You’re mine, fucking mine,” repeatedly and slowly, I can feel my body begin to shut down, knowing this is what my life is going to be, and I can’t stop it.

Dating, finding love, getting married, having kids, none of it will ever happen to me because Brock will never let me go, and even if, by some miracle, he crashes his bike into a tree and dies, I’ll always feel dirty.

He grunts, rutting his hips before he groans, spilling inside the condom while I try to think of ways to end it all if I can’t escape from this hell.