Page 83 of Enemy

Not only will I never have that, but once the Butchers go through Clyde’s phone, they will discover our affair, and they’ll let my club know.

I’m a traitor. And the Vultures have no use for someone like me.

My hands shake as I rub my arms, letting my emotions out in a roar to the cloudy sky. The moon is hidden, as if it too doesn’t want anything to do with a dirty liar like me. I shudder with guilt when I briefly let myself feel grateful for Clyde’s forgiveness at the end. I don’t deserve his affection, and I never did.

We both went into this knowing the risks, but I was the one who pursued him. I killed his brother and still went after him without shame. Because I was greedy.

And he invited me in. Into his life, to his little shack by the lake, and into his body.

I hate myself so fucking much right now I can’t stand it.

He killed one of the Butchers for me, and now he’s dead.

Should I go back there? Set their club on fire? Take revenge and go out in a blaze of glory?

I sob into my hands. There is no glory left for me. I don’t deserve shit. I was so frantic, I ran away and left him to those wolves.

I let down the man I love, lost him, and I’m a traitor to my club.

If I could turn back time, I would have made sure he was on the back of my bike. I’d work it out with my club somehow. Or left everyone behind and didn’t look back.

If it gave Clyde’s life back, I would have never touched him.

But reality doesn’t work that way.

Ihatereality, and I don’t want to be a part of it anymore.

It’s a truth that hits me so hard doubts no longer have a place in my mind. I pull out the small pouch of pills and capsules, open it, and swallow each that rolls down my tongue.

My road to bliss.

It won’t be long now.

Chapter 33

Clyde

Thedeaddon’tstartgiving off the sickly smell of rot until hours later. The bodies on either side of me are still fresh, and while there are two layers of plastic separating me from each, I could be fooled that I’m resting in the hard bed of the truck with men who are only sleeping.

The driver doesn’t try to make the journey bearable for me, and I’m being shaken as if I’m a nugget of gold the driver is attempting to separate from mud and pebbles.

Then again, maybeI’mthe dirt? Maybe Bracer lied when he whispered for me to play dead before pulling the trigger, and I am in fact just a body, temporarily inhabited by a soul that refuses to leave.

If I’m alive, how did he fool everyone? Did he shoot into the air, aiming so close to me it seemed believable enough? Did he always keep a pistol loaded with blanks on his person, for situations like this one? I wouldn’t put that past him. I also can’t work out the reason he would be helping me in the first place, since Bracer and I have never been anything close to best buds. If anything, I’ve been avoiding his requests to influence my uncle about Roy for a while now.

Another bump, and then a beep I know from somewhere but can’t place. It’s so hard to focus on the outside world when pressed between two men I’ve killed. I’m no blushing flower. I’ve killed before, and I’ve taken the bodies to Bracer’s crematorium, but—

That’s it. That’s the sound. The beeping his back gate makes when opening.

But he wouldn’t save me just to throw me into the fire alive… would he? I don’t know anything anymore.

Either way, my life as I know it is over. I shot Puck in public, and while stabbing Kalash to death could have been hidden, that can’t. And yet I don’t regret it. Because otherwise, that baseball bat would have landed on Road’s head.

I chose him over my club. And if I were to be honest with myself, I’ve been choosing him over my club for a while now. What does that say about me?

I should feel guilt, loathe myself for being a piece of filth without honor, ready to betray his family for good dick. Only the Hell’s Butchers haven’t felt like family for a long time now, and my relationship with Road is… it’s not so simple at all.

What started as a chance to explore my sexuality turned into trust, intimacy, and a connection that felt safer than any of the friendships I made with my club brothers. With him, I can be myself. He won’t begrudge me for not being the kind of man I’m expected to be, or laugh at my vulnerabilities.