Page 43

When Pope came back home yesterday from his fight with Frankie, there was a lightness to his steps. There were bruises on his body, cuts on his face, and his knuckles were swollen, but he was alive. He was breathing.

It was all I asked from him.

To come back to us breathing.

That didn’t mean I appreciated all the marks left on him.

He just got a kick out of me bitching and moaning about them and loving on him after I took care of him.

Stupid lovable idiot.

Pope informed me I didn’t have to worry about Frankie anymore. He said they took care of him. He didn’t go into much more detail other than to say that he’s not getting off easy.

If it was anyone else, I’d be hesitant about the implications.

Frankie deserves everything that’s coming to him.

There’s not a kind bone in his body. In the beginning, when he first started coming into the diner, there was.

Or at least I wanted to believe there was.

When he started putting his hands on me, that’s when I realized it was just an act he’d put on.

However, leading up to the assault were angry outbursts and the irritation he felt when the children misbehaved.

It was things he apologized for the next day.

Apologies which felt sincere at the time.

I still can’t believe I was fool enough to turn a blind eye to the red flags.

Finding out he’s Pope’s brother helped me understand what the draw to him was.

My heart and soul were seeking out the similarities to the man that owned them.

It was the little things Frankie did that whispered to the broken parts of me that remembered Pope.

The way he ran his fingers through his hair. The way the left side of his mouth would curl up when something made him happy. It was the way he would eat with his non-dominant hand and the way he’d tilt his head to the right when he was listening to someone talk.

It was quirks they both did that helped me find solace in someone who should have brought me peace, but threw me into hell instead.

There’s a warning in my brain. One that tells me this isn’t over.

There’s still something coming. Whoever helped Spunky in the past is still there in the club.

The eyes are still on me when I’m around the clubhouse.

They’re weighted with anger, with frustration.

It’s the longing and the lust that I don’t understand.

The intensity that I feel from them causes the hair to stand on my arms.

I no longer feel comfortable being at the clubhouse by myself because, even surrounded by my friends, those eyes pierce my skin as if they’re begging me to see them, to find them.

Arms snake around me from behind. My body jerks and my muscles tighten at the unexpected touch as fog rushes over my brain.

“It’s just me, little mama,” Pope murmurs, his lips brushing my ear.

Closing my eyes, I picture my muscles loosening one by one until my body melts into his. “Sorry.”

He nips at my jawline. “Don’t fucking apologize when that happens.”

I get lost in the feel of his arms around me as I consider bringing up what I’ve thought about since the first time Frankie hit me. “I’d like to learn some self-defense.”

Pope is quiet, but his arms tighten around me.

He sways us back and forth to the slow tune of Alex Warren singing about finding someone who takes him out of the ordinary.

The first time I listened to the lyrics, the song called to me.

They reminded me so much of what I shared with Pope in the past, and I’ve been obsessed with it ever since.

Placing my hands over the arms he has wrapped around me, I tilt my head to the side as he brandishes my neck in feather-light kisses. Sweet little brushes of his lips to reassure me he’s here, that he loves me, that he’s the steady fucking beat of my heart.

“I need to know that if something happens—”

“It won’t,” he growls.

With a sigh, I turn in his arms and lean my head back to peer up at him.

“I need to know that if something happens, I’ll be able to protect me and the kids as best as I can.

You can’t be everywhere all the time, Apollonos.

You have a club to run and so many businesses that you all have to look after.

Not including the shit you do in the dark.

If I’m going to stand at your side, I need to know I’m worthy of being there. ”

“You’ve always been worthy of being at my side. Fucking always. Understand? Property patch or not, you’re mine. They’re mine. I’m the one not worthy of you. That won’t stop me from claiming you, but it doesn’t mean I don’t know that I’m lucky as fuck to have you.” Then he sighs. “This will help?”

“It will. I know you all have Frankie, but I feel it building in my gut, Pope. This all feels unfinished, like there’s something waiting in the shadows to pull me in.”

“Fuck. Okay. I’ll bring one of the women we have fighting in the ring for us. If you’re going to learn, I want it to be from the best and Tapping It has the best. I’ll see if Verena has time.”

“Verena? Pretty name.”

Pope snorts, amusement dancing in his eyes. “She’s pretty, but she’s a fucking beast in the ring. You know what she told me her name means?”

“What?”

“To fear and to respect. I believe it because I see the way her opponents watch her after the first few hits. You’ll have to watch one of her fights.”

I lift to my toes to kiss him, happy that he’s not brushing off my need to learn this. Pope placed himself as my protector so long ago that I always thought it’d be hard to give that up. But he’s been doing his best to show me that the man he was seven years ago has changed.

Some.

He’s still the person I fell in love with at fourteen. I’d probably be sad if all of him changed.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“Whatever you need to make yourself feel safe, Birdie. I won’t take that choice from you again.”

“Good job,” Verena praises, jumping to her feet. “You caught on so fast that you’re a natural. Pope should put your ass in the cage.”

“We’ve been going hard for the last two days,” I say with a laugh, grabbing the towel she tosses to me and wipes my face.

“You told me your story. I could practically smell the fear seeping from your pores when I came to you. You have strength inside. A fire you keep hidden. It was waiting to burst free. I’m teaching you this so that you have confidence.

So that you don’t have to believe you can’t fight back.

No one deserves to have their identity diminished.

Be fucking loud, baby girl, because men fear powerful women. ”

Verena readjusts her black and neon pink hair up on top of her head and gets back into position in front of me.

“Let’s go again. We’re switching it up now.

I’ve been the one pretending to attack you, but I want to watch your form.

” Her eyes lift over my shoulder, and she gives a satisfied nod.

“I need to check your flight, fight, or freeze response when the attack is unexpected.”

My hands tremble, and she doesn’t miss it.

“Shake them out,” she orders.

Verena calls out moves she wants to see and I follow them. My shoulders are tense at first, expecting an attack, but when one doesn’t come, my muscles loosen. My movements flow together as I repeat the moves she’s taught me.

I watch her for any indication that an attack is coming, but she gives nothing away. Pope was right about her being a fucking beast.

“Palm-Heel strike,” she calls.

With my hands up, I rotate my left hip and shoulder. My left palm explodes straight out with my fingertips up and elbow down. I keep my right arm up to protect my face as I recoil my left arm and return my shoulder and hip to the ready stance.

She has me do left and right combinations until my body flows seamlessly.

It’s when I’m getting back into the ready stance that it happens. A thick set of unfamiliar arms wraps around me in a bear hug, and my brain freezes.

Fucking freezes.

I can’t think. My feet turn to cement as I struggle to suck air into my lungs.

“Trust your instincts, Birdie,” Verena calls out. “You know what to do. Men fear powerful women.”

Verena walks closer, keeping her eyes on me. “He’s going for your daughter. He’s going to take her away from her and you’ll never see her again. Break. The. Chains.”

The contract doesn’t go into effect until the girl reaches her eighth birthday. That gives you a little over a year to come up with the five million required for her purchase.

A link of the chains that hold me snaps at the echo of Frankie’s words.

It will be easy enough to turn him into a monster to match me.

I bend forward from the waist as another chain breaks.

The first time Frankie hit me.

The first time he raped me.

The first time he threatened to kill my kids if I didn’t give him what he wanted.

Each memory snaps a link to the chains holding me prisoner.

As their weight falls from me, I turn into my attacker with one of my elbows.

I throw them side to side to his face until I’m able to knee him in the groin.

Once he drops, I raise my dominant hand and bend my elbow while rotating my hips toward him.

Then I bring my arm down and smack him in the nose with the meaty part of my fist.

I counter with another hammerfist punch before Verena stops me by blocking the hit. I blink heavily a few times as my brain comes back online.

It’s not Frankie in front of me.

A tanned, built man with curly blond hair and laughing blue eyes cups a hand over his nose.

“You did well,” Verena praises. “You froze for a minute, but your brain worked quickly to break you free from what held you hostage. Birdie, meet Arik. Resident playboy of Tapping It.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” he replies in a nasally voice, causing me to wince. “Don’t worry. I don’t normally sound like this. A beautiful woman almost broke my nose.”

“Arik, her old man will literally slit your throat with a smile on his face,” Verena tells him.

He peers at me warily as he climbs to his feet. “Who is your man?”

I lift a brow and cross my arms with a smirk. “Pope.”

“Jesus,” he gasps, stumbling back and shooting Verena an incredulous look. “You let me attack that crazy fucker’s lady? I’m dead. Fucking dead. Tell my mama I love her. Tell her I went out like a man and not a scared little bitch.”

My head falls back as laughter bursts from me. “Don’t worry. He knows.” Then I nod to the door of the gym where Pope is standing with our kids.

“Oh, fuck. And you’re the mother of his kids? I’m a dead man walking.”

“Relax, pussycat,” Verena sneers, patting the top of his head. “Do you really think I wouldn’t have cleared it with him first?”

They bicker back and forth, forgetting I’m there. So, I shake my head with a smile and head over to my family.

“Can I kill him?” Pope asks as soon as I reach them.

“No,” I say with a laugh, lifting to my toes to kiss him.

“Fine,” he pouts when I pull away and turn to the kids.

“Did you all have fun with Dad?”

“Yes,” they shout.

They tell me everything they did while I was here, and I listen patiently, smiling, nodding, and humming where appropriate. I soak in their happiness. Their peace. I store it in my heart, never wanting to forget the reason I won’t let myself be beaten again.

Not by Frankie.

Not by anyone.

I am strong.

I do have a fire inside of me.

It’s what Frankie tried so hard to extinguish.

Because Verena is right.

Men fear powerful women, and somewhere along the way, I forgot that.

When there is a threat to her cubs, a mama bear demonstrates power by being loud.

It’s time for everyone to finally hear my roar.