Page 6
Ares
The roar of the engine settled into a purr as Prophet cut the ignition, and we coasted to a stop in front of the beach house. The air was thick with salt and promise, but it felt like a world away from the one I’d been living in -- a world of darkness and pain.
“Here we are, Ares,” Prophet said softly, his voice a balm to the chaos churning inside me. He didn’t know, couldn’t know, how my insides were a twisting mass of snakes. A silent scream echoed in my head.
“Looks quiet,” I managed to say, forcing what I hoped was a reassuring smile as I stepped off the bike. My shoes crunched on the crushed shells, the sound too loud for such a peaceful night.
Prophet slung an arm around my shoulders, ushering me toward the house -- our temporary sanctuary. His touch was meant to comfort, but it felt like a lifeline. Agony, fear, and rage burned inside me. I wanted to cry, scream, and hit something. I leaned into him, needing his strength because mine was long gone.
“Let’s check the place out,” he said, and there was a lightness in his tone that told me he was trying for both our sakes. The shadows in his eyes told a different story. I knew he was worried about me.
We walked through the house, and I noted the exits, the locks on the windows, the way the furniture could be used as barricades. I froze, realizing what I was doing. I was safe now. Not to mention, Prophet was beside me. He wouldn’t let anyone get to me. He watched me, his gaze both warm and concerned.
“Need anything?” he asked once we’d finished our inspection. “There’s a store not far from here. We could stock up. I only got you the one outfit earlier.”
“Sure.” Shopping. Such a normal thing to do, yet it felt like we were talking about scaling a mountain without ropes. I wasn’t sure I was prepared yet for normal .
Prophet’s hand found mine, our fingers lacing together. We walked to his bike, and I climbed on behind him, feeling the rumble of the motorcycle beneath us as we took the short trip to the store. I knew we wouldn’t be able to buy a lot since we didn’t have a vehicle with four wheels and more space. Even still, he’d been right about us needing certain things.
The fluorescent lights of the store were too bright. I wanted to shrink from them and hide, but I forced myself to remain by his side. I followed Prophet down the aisles, my gaze skittering over the racks of clothes. I could feel others watching me, hear them whispering. I knew how I looked, and what they must think. If they’d bothered to ask, I’d have told them Prophet would never harm me. Of course, I doubted they’d listen. They’d just see a big, tough biker and draw their own conclusions.
Prophet picked out two pair of jeans and a handful of shirts for himself, glancing back at me every now and then, a question in his eyes that I answered with nods and half-smiles. It was clear he worried about me, and I loved him for it, but even his silent Are you okay? was starting to wear me out. I didn’t want to pretend I was fine when I wasn’t.
After he got the items he needed, he led me to the women’s section. He found a modest swimsuit for me, as well as some comfortable outfits and a casual dress. By the time he’d gathered enough to last us several days, I had to wonder how he was getting it back to the house. He must have realized the same thing because he grabbed a duffle bag and bungee cords.
The aisles seemed to stretch into infinity, a mundane gauntlet that I stumbled through. My hands trembled as I reached for a pair of flip-flops. Prophet’s hand steadied mine, his touch grounding even as everything else spun out of control.
“Let’s get you home,” he murmured, his voice low and laced with concern.
I nodded, unable to find words, my throat constricted by a fear that refused to ease its grip. The normality of shopping felt suffocating, and wrong.
Prophet quickly paid for our things, then shoved them into the bag. When we got to his motorcycle, he strapped it to the back fender. We’d still need more things, and laundry detergent. At least the house had a washer and dryer. I climbed onto the bike behind him, putting my arms around his waist. There had been a time I’d loved riding with him. Right now, I felt too exposed. Every little sound or shadow made me jump.
Back at the house, my feet dragged across the threshold, each step heavier than the last. Prophet’s presence was the only thing keeping the tide of panic at bay.
“Stay with me,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the roaring in my ears.
“Always,” he vowed, his arms folding around me as if he could shield me from the horrors etched into my soul.
He made a call, his words a low rumble that I clung to. “Yeah, delivery.”
He rattled off an order for basic food items and drinks. It would be enough to hold us for now. It wasn’t like he could carry a case of water and a week’s worth of groceries on his bike anyway. Delivery was the only option.
Hours passed, marked only by the arrival of boxes and bags at the doorstep. Prophet brought them inside, but never strayed more than a few feet from where I sat, curled on the couch. I tracked his movements, my breath hitching whenever he moved out of my line of sight.
“Can’t lose you again,” I confessed, the words spilling out raw and edged with desperation. Because not being with him made me feel like I might lose myself. He was the glue holding me together right now.
“You won’t,” he assured me, settling beside me with an arm draped protectively over my shoulders.
I leaned into his warmth, the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear having a calming effect on me. It reminded me we were both alive, and we were together. And this time, he didn’t seem like he’d let me go. I could only imagine how much our lives would change when we got back home. Right now, he was my anchor. The one constant in this fucked-up world I knew would never change.
The phone in Prophet’s hand glowed. His thumbs danced across the screen, and though I couldn’t see the words he typed, the tension in his shoulders told me enough. He was reaching out, casting a lifeline back to the club -- to my father. Or possibly Wire. Either way, they would know I was safe. I was glad my dad wouldn’t have to worry anymore. This had to have been hard on him.
“Done,” he murmured, slipping the device into his pocket. His eyes found mine, a storm of emotions swirling within their depths. “Savior knows you’re safe.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. I knew he’d needed to let the club know I was alive, yet the thought of returning, of facing the questions and the pitying stares, splintered something inside me. I couldn’t face them yet.
“Hey,” Prophet said softly, pulling me close. Despite his strength, his voice and touch were gentle. I focused on the rhythm of his heartbeat. It was steady, reliable -- everything I needed right now.
“I just… I can’t go back yet.” The truth tasted bitter on my tongue. How could I return to them, fractured and shadowed by memories that refused to fade, and new nightmares I hadn’t had time to process?
“Then we stay here for as long as it takes,” he replied, his voice a rumble that resonated within me. “I already booked the place for a month. If it looks like you need it longer, I’ll see if it’s open again next month. If not, we’ll find another place.”
I wanted to be brave. I knew the club had to be more than a little concerned about me. If I could get strong enough, we could go home. But right now…
“Prophet,” I started, my voice barely audible, “I’m so scared.”
“Shh,” he soothed, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Fear is just a sign we’ve got something worth fighting for. And, Ares, I’ll fight with you, every step of the way. I’m confident the men who stayed behind at the mansion made sure that evil bastard was dead. They wouldn’t have left until they confirmed he wasn’t breathing.”
I nodded and closed my eyes. I wondered if those women had made him suffer horribly. As much as I wanted to know, I didn’t ask. Prophet could have most likely found out if he’d checked with the other men who had been there. I hadn’t even paid attention to which of the Dixie Reapers had been with him. It made me feel guilty. They’d helped save me too, and I hadn’t bothered to thank any of them.
“You seem to be stuck in your head,” he said. “Why don’t we take a short walk on the beach? If it’s too much, we’ll turn around and come right back.”
“All right.” It wasn’t like I could hide in the house the entire time we were here. The sooner I tried to find some semblance of normalcy, the better.
The sand was a warm cushion beneath my bare feet as I walked alongside Prophet, the rhythmic wash of waves a soothing sound. The beach stretched out before us. The sun had already set, and I didn’t see another soul out here. Stopping at the edge of the water, I closed my eyes and tipped my head back. The soft sound of the ocean sliding across the sand, then retreating once more, eased some of the tension I’d been carrying. This place was peaceful.
Unlike my mind. Inside, I still felt like I was screaming, begging for someone to find me, to get out of that hellish place. Even now, if I blocked out the sounds around me, I could almost hear that man’s voice, as he told me all the things he’d do to me. Hear the slide of his zipper before he violated me. A shiver raked my spine and I wanted to go inside and take the hottest shower, scrubbing my skin until I finally felt clean. Except, experience told me, soap and water wouldn’t help in that regard.
There would be nightmares. I’d had them before. I doubted this time would be any different. Reliving the moments when that bastard cut me, whipped me, used his fists on me… The feeling of him forcing his way into my body. None of it would go away overnight.
I’d be okay. I wasn’t right now. Far from it. But I could be, with enough time… and with Prophet by my side.
“Look,” Prophet murmured, nudging me gently with his elbow.
I followed his gaze to the neighboring beach house where two familiar figures lounged on the deck. Dr. Myron, with his gentle eyes and ready smile, sat beside Dr. Sykes, whose sharp intellect often hid behind a facade of humor. The Dixie Reapers’ trusted healers, unexpected in this place of retreat.
“Hey, Ares,” Dr. Myron called, waving us over. “Small world, huh?”
“Seems like it,” I replied, the words catching slightly in my throat.
“Are you okay?” Dr. Sykes asked, his tone careful. I wondered if they’d heard what happened to me. Or was he asking more because of my cuts and bruises?
I glanced at Prophet, seeking reassurance in his steady presence. He nodded, as if giving me permission to not be okay.
“Been better,” I admitted, the weight of my confession threatening to drag me under.
Dr. Sykes rose from his seat, closing the distance between us with a few measured steps. His gaze studied me, and something told me he saw far more than I’d wanted him to.
“If you need to talk, we’re here,” he said, his voice low and even. “But we won’t push you. Just know the offer is there.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. Tears burned my eyes, but I blinked them back, refusing to cry.
“I think I’m going to grab a beer and join Dr. Myron,” Prophet said. “I think the two of you may need a little privacy.”
It seemed he understood there were things I needed to confess that I didn’t want to say to him. He’d always been perceptive, especially where I was concerned.
I sat across from Dr. Sykes, hoping this was the right decision. I kept Prophet within view, which settled my nerves a bit. I’d known Dr. Myron and Dr. Sykes for years, and knew neither of them would hurt me, but panic flared inside me if I couldn’t see Prophet. I wondered if I had PTSD or something from my recent ordeal.
“Start wherever you want,” Dr. Sykes encouraged. “This isn’t an official session, so I’m not keeping notes, recording, or anything else. It’s just you and me having a conversation.”
“Wherever” felt like standing at the edge of a chasm, peering into the abyss. I took a deep breath. The smell of the sand and water calmed my mind a little. Should I start with being kidnapped? Talk about what it was like to be sold, yet again?
“It’s like… I feel hollow and at the same time I’m full of pain and anger. I’m not sure that makes any sense. I have no idea how to describe everything going inside my head right now.”
“Trauma can feel like a living thing,” Dr. Sykes interjected softly. “It has teeth and claws, and it’s hungry. But you’re not alone in this fight, Ares. Prophet loves you, and so do your family and friends. You have a support system if you choose to use it.”
I knew he was right, which was part of why I felt so guilty hiding in Gulf Shores when I knew my family had to be waiting for me. I wasn’t the only one hurting right now. No doubt, Dad had blamed himself for me being taken from the compound. That was just the sort of man he was.
“Will I ever be whole again?” The question slipped out before I could think better of it.
“That’s the goal,” Dr. Sykes said with a reassuring nod. “But ‘whole’ doesn’t mean unchanged. It means accepting the scars and finding strength in them. You went through something similar before, Ares, but it doesn’t mean you’re going to feel the same things or heal the same way. Let’s start with why this time was different.”
“I have people who care about me,” I said. “They’re worried and were probably scared they’d never see me again. There’s a man who loves me enough to kill to protect me.”
Dr. Sykes nodded. “You’re right on all counts, but is that all?”
I shook my head. “No, I wasn’t the same as I was the first time. I knew what was going to happen to some extent since I’d lived through it before, but this time, I chose to go with them.”
He froze for a moment and I knew I’d taken him by surprise. Did no one realize how the men had managed to take me from the compound? It hadn’t occurred to me until now that they’d thought I’d been taken against my will.
“Yeah, I went willingly,” I said. “Surprised?”
“A little. Can you tell me why?”
“Junie, Judd, and Marnie. The man who caught me outside the house threatened to take them instead. I knew they’d die if they had to go through being sold and owned by pedophiles. What other reason would adults buy children on the dark web?”
He leaned back, relaxing his posture. “So you were protecting your family by sacrificing yourself.”
“I did, and while I worried I’d be broken beyond repair this time, I knew it was better for me to go with them than to let my little brother and sisters face those monsters.”
“You’ve been through counseling before, so you know this is all confidential. However, I think your family needs to know why this happened. It might help give them closure and blame themselves a little less.”
“Or it could make them feel even worse,” I countered.
“I’m not going to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. And I’m not going to force you to talk about anything. I’m here to listen, and to help.”
I knew all that. Like he’d said, this wasn’t my first time going to counseling. At the same time, I wasn’t sure I was ready to talk. Glancing at Prophet, I felt my stomach clench. We had the chance to be together, and I knew I needed to work through everything I’d gone through. It was the only way we’d be able to move forward.
Taking a break, I started slow… I told Dr. Sykes about the trip in the van, being locked up in the cage, and what happened after I’d been sold and met my owner for the first time. The entire sordid tale spilled from my lips, and at some point, I realized tears were falling down my cheeks. He listened, not stopping me or interjecting. Patiently, he waited until I reached a point where I couldn’t continue.
“Do you need to be tested, Ares? Not just for an STD, but also for pregnancy.”
I shook my head. “He wore condoms.”
“For peace of mind, would you like to be tested? Dr. Myron could draw your blood and get a local lab to process it. If things were to progress with Prophet, can you say with any certainty you wouldn’t infect him with something, or if you were to find out you’re pregnant, would you be positive it was his child?”
I hated his questions, but he was right. “I’ll let Dr. Myron draw some blood. I think it’s too soon to tell anything, though. At least, as far as a pregnancy goes.”
He nodded. “I’ll ask him to expedite the results. We should know something in three to five days. In the meantime, you know where we are if you need us. And if you’re right, he can always test you again when the time is right.”
“Thank you. For everything.”
He smiled and we stood, then joined Prophet and Dr. Myron. The four of us talked a bit longer before Prophet and I returned to the home we’d been renting.