Page 23

TWENTY-TWO

DEPRAVED

SWING LIFE AWAY: RISE AGAINST

CALISTA

T he vibrations of the bike work tirelessly to soothe my nerves as I ride alongside Killian down Main Street. But my black riding gloves do little to keep my hands warm or dry. I can feel the dampness creeping into the leather, pooling beneath my fingers. As if triggered by a chain reaction, my mouth goes dry, and an unwelcome rush of heat floods through me with every side street we pass.

I keep my grip on the throttle, treating it as my best friend tonight, even though I have one riding beside me, of course with no hands. Lowering my chest toward the handlebars, the wind howls around me, tangling my hair into wild knots and making my helmet rattle against my skull.

Despite the music blaring in my helmet and the dark sky looming over me, a knot of sickness twists in my stomach, clouding my focus and pushing any hope of gaining a grip on reality further away. My heart races as we close in on our destination, yet I press the bike to its limits, the wind nearly threatening to unseat me.

In a fleeting moment, I catch a glimpse of Killian, his head shaking in disbelief. I know he’s worried about me. He’s probably also contemplating pulling over to check if I'm okay. I shake my head, gliding past him, desperate to meld with the beckoning darkness, yearning to toss my worries into the void and plunge into the shadows that have haunted me throughout my life.

Riding solo now, I weave in and out of lanes on the open highway, the growl of Killian's bike inching closer behind me. It doesn’t take him long to catch up, and when he does, he zooms past me, performing a wheelie that momentarily elevates him into the night before he's swallowed by the darkness.

My thighs grip the seat as I straighten up, raising my arms overhead, welcoming the darkness that has claimed Killian. No longer does my heart pound; instead, it settles into calm, rhythmic thumps, the wind around me a soothing balm. Freedom is just around the bend, waiting with open arms.

When we finally coast off the exit ramp and ride for about five more minutes, I pull in behind Killian in the back lot of a bar, just a block from my parents' house. In an instant, my anxiety cripples me again. I take my time removing my helmet, avoiding Killian's penetrating gaze that seems to bore into my back.

"You sure you’re okay?" he asks, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around my waist, letting them rest comfortably against my hips.

"I'm fine. Let’s just get this done," I mutter, slowly pulling off my gloves.

He spins me around, cupping my face in his hands and tilting my head back so our eyes meet. "Why do you think you can lie to me and get away with it?" he asks, smiling, though a seriousness lingers in his gaze.

"Kill—"

"Nah, I know you’re not fine, Cali. I know you want this to be over with. So why keep putting it off? If you want your parents gone, then just fucking do it. Let’s make it happen tonight."

All I can do is shake my head, fully aware it’s not nearly as simple as he suggests. Knowing my parents, they’ll be on high alert. I can’t just waltz in guns blazing. I step back from him, glaring while rolling my eyes, struggling to keep my temper in check. But it’s a fucking challenge.

"I don’t know what’s waiting for us on the other side of that door, Kill. This is why we do the groundwork before a job—to avoid getting killed by rushing in without a plan. Yes, I want them fucking gone, but it has to be meticulously thought out and executed."

I lower my head and sweep my hair into a messy bun on the top, feeling the cool breeze brush against the back of my neck, where Five's name is etched into my skin. I run my fingers over it, wiping away the sweat as images of him fill my mind, soothing my temper.

Each of the guys in my life serves a unique purpose, carving out distinct roles. Five has always had the power to calm me, even in the most chaotic moments. He proved that from the very first time we met, when he found me curled up, hugging my knees in a shadowy corner of his bedroom. Since then, he’s become my grounding force.

Ash supports every decision I make, whether wise or reckless. His influence looms large in my life, and I find myself following him without question, unsure if it’s a blessing or a curse—but I do it anyway.

Killian, in his own way, acts as my therapist. He understands me better than I understand myself; he can talk me off any ledge with just a few words. He knows what goes on inside my head and precisely what my body—and my heart—needs. He knows how to handle me both in the streets and in the sheets.

Then there’s Dom, a complex presence. He’s always been someone I can share anything with, and the bond we have rekindles as if we’ve never been apart, no matter how much time passes.

I can’t choose just one of them. Each holds a special place in my heart, playing a crucial role in my life. Without even one of them, everything could unravel. The balance would be disrupted, and I wouldn’t know how to navigate the chaos that is my life.

"Get out of your fucking head, Cali," Killian urges, his deep voice yanking me back to reality. "We have a job to do, and if you’re trapped in your thoughts, the chances of something going sideways go up."

"I fucking know," I snap before I offer a small smile, nodding, and start walking down the sidewalk toward my parents' house, wiping my damp hands on my jeans, bracing myself for what awaits.

As I approach the front door, I pull my pocket knife out and open it, my hand tightly gripping the comforting steel. The familiar weight of dread settles over my chest like thick fog. I pause, casting a glance back at Killian, who's leaning against the iron gate with an expression that’s equal parts concern and impatience. I take a breath, reminding myself that this is it—the moment I’ve been building up to for years. If I want to break free, there’s no turning back now.

Tonight was only supposed to be us staking out the place, trying to get a better picture of what we're up against. But my mind keeps screaming at me to walk the fuck inside like it's normal. And that's not the only thing screaming at me.

"Do it, Cali. Open the door and walk right in. Prove to your parents that you're not afraid anymore," Addy whispers in my left ear, a chill trickling down my spine as I spiral quickly, flashbacks torturing my fucking soul.

She's back, and right at the worst fucking time. I try to ignore her, but I hear her whisper again in my right ear, and before I know it, her voice is all I can hear. But for once, I refuse to engage with her. I know Killian is watching, and if I want him to believe I'm doing better, I know I need to stop pretending that Addy is real. I need to bite my tongue and ignore her. But it's so fucking hard.

"Cali," Killian yells, trying to get my attention as I wrap my fingers around the blade of my knife, cutting myself without even realizing it. I don't feel the sting. I only see the blood as I look down, and it snaps me out of the crazy, allowing me to hear Killian yelling my name as he rushes over to me, his face full of concern that matches the panic in his hypnotizing eyes.

"Jesus Christ, Cali! What the fuck are you doing?" He growls, squeezing my shoulders and shaking me as I focus my eyes on my bloody fingers.

"I... I... I cut myself," I whisper, feeling numb as nostalgia knocks the wind out of me.

I remember all those times I willingly scarred my skin with the razorblade, just to remind myself that I was alive in a body that felt so fucking dead. But I haven't picked up a blade in a while—I haven't needed to because when I'm with the guys, I always feel alive.

"Hey, it's okay," he says soothingly, taking a black bandana out of his back pocket and tying it around the large slice across four of my fingers.

Taking such caution, he gently tugs me into his arms and tightens them around me, peppering the top of my head with kisses that melt my fucking soul. I don't know what's happening, but it feels like I've broken through the wall that I spent so long trying to knock down. Something inside me feels free, even though I'm not fully there yet. But I'm ready to be. More than anything, I'm ready to be fully free.

"I want to go inside," I tell him, looking at the ground as his warm lips continue to graze the top of my head.

"Fuck it, baby. Let's go in then," he tells me, reaching down and grabbing my hand to hold, never giving my crazy idea another thought.

I reach for the doorknob, my fingers trembling. For a brief second, I want to flee, to escape and ride into the night instead. But the roar of the engine, the vibration that soothed me moments ago, is replaced with the pounding of my heart, reminding me of my purpose. I push the door open, bracing for the chaos within.

The entryway is dark, lit only by the faint glow of the living room. Instantly, the smell of stale cigarettes and long-forgotten arguments washes over me, a reminder of everything I’ve tried to forget. I step inside, the floor creaking underfoot, and my senses heighten as I listen for any sign of life. The low murmur of a television plays in the background; the sound like static in my ears.

“Who's there?” My mother calls out, her voice rasping with unmistakable annoyance, pulled from a moment of comfort.

I pick up the tension coiling in her tone, and it ignites a flicker of defiance in me. I swallow hard, the knot in my stomach tightening, as I glance at Killian one last time. He nods encouragingly from the shadows beside me, a silent reminder that I’m not alone. I need to stay focused. I can't let the memories drown me; they’ll only delay my resolve.

“It's me, mother,” I reply, injecting as much bravado into my voice as I can muster, wanting them to see that I'm not afraid of them anymore.

I step into the living room, and my parents’ eyes land on me, swirling with surprise and irritation. My father’s brow furrows, his fingers still paused over the remote, a drink balanced precariously in his other hand.

"What the fuck are you doing back here?" he growls, his gaze hardening like the remnants of my childhood I wish to bury.

“I came to talk.” The words spill out before I can brace myself for their reaction. This is it—my chance to reclaim the narrative. I straighten my back, pushing all those years of resentment and pain into the surface.

“Talk?” My mother scoffs, her eyes narrowing. “Is that what you call barging in unannounced? You think you can just show up after so long and after everything you've done and expect us to listen?”

“No, Mom, I expect you to shut the fuck up and listen,” I snap back, the anger erupting from a well of buried emotion. “You’ve both done nothing but ruin my fucking life. I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not!”

A beat of silence hangs between us, the tension thickening the air. I can feel Killian’s presence behind me as he keeps me close in his sights, letting me attempt this move on my own, his energy a reassuring tether, but I can't focus on him now. The room feels like a volcano ready to erupt, each word a single spark against the dry tinder of our history.

“What is this? You come here after abandoning us for so long, and now you want to disrespect us in our own home?” My father’s voice is low and dangerous, each syllable dripping with disdain. But I see the cracks in his facade, the uncertainty that always lay beneath his bravado.

I take a step forward. “No more lying. No more hiding. No more pretending to be a happy family when all we fucking do is tear each other apart. I’m fucking done. I’m fucking tired of living in fear of you.”

The silence that follows is deafening, my declaration hanging in the air, raw and unapologetic, as if it’s summoned every unspoken word we’ve kept buried for too long.

“What the hell does that mean?” My mother stands now, leaning half-forward in disbelief, her expression shifting from annoyance to panic.

“It means I’m done, for good this time. You won’t have the power over me any longer.” I clamp down on the fear clawing at my insides, willing myself not to back down. “I’m taking my fucking life into my own hands, and you can’t stop me.”

There's a flurry of noise behind me—a sudden crashing sound—and I whirl around to find Killian storming further into the room, his posture tense. I hadn’t even heard him approach, but now his presence feels like a much-needed protective barrier. But that isn't all. I see a gleam of sliver hair under the moonlight coming in the large windows, displaying the face of the man who held me captive in Gunnar's basement before I was able to escape. I feel myself panic as our eyes meet, the evil in his churning nausea in my stomach and making me feel like I'm about to pass out.

"You," I snap, gripping my knife in my hand so tightly that my knuckles crack as they turn white, hot rage simmering inside of me.

"Calista, meet your grandfather," my mother laughs, knowing that me seeing him after what he did is throwing me all off my game.

I can hear my pulse in my ears, and the room spins just as Killian grabs me, knowing I'm about to go completely manic. He smiles, rubbing his hands up and down my arms to try and relax my anxiety and bring me back to the moment as the man with the silver hair walks over and stands beside my mother, a cunning grin spread across his lips.

“Cali, come back to me, Little Psycho. You've got this,” Killian says softly, but I can see the fire in his eyes directed at my parents as he whirls around to face them. “You’re not going to fucking treat her this way.”

Whatever semblance of control my parents had seems to disintegrate in the face of Killian’s fury. My mother takes a step back, instinctively shielded by my father and hers, but that’s not enough to erase the years of corruption, abuse, lies, guilt, and resentment wieaning down on them now.

“Maybe it’s time for you motherfuckers to realize how your shitty actions have dire consequences,” I say out of the blue, finding my voice and feeling empowered by Killian’s support. “You’ve made your damn choices, and now I’m fucking making mine.”

The onslaught of emotions surges within me as I stand my ground, feeling the gravity of this moment, rallying within me the years of pain I’d tucked away for far too fucking long. I’ve reached the moment of truth—my breaking point—and for the first time, I know I’m ready to face whatever comes next—no longer just a girl with a chain wrapped around my ankle running from shadows, but a woman prepared to take her fucking life back to forge her own path.

Outside, the wind howls, inviting me to embrace my newfound freedom. Together, I know Killian, Dominic, Ash, Five, and I will face the darkness and carve out the existence we deserve. And it's going to be fucking beautiful.

The air crackles with tension, every heartbeat echoing the weight of years we’ve suffered in silence. The world outside feels like a distant memory, a reckless abandon of freedom that I can almost taste, but the suffocating grip of my past holds me here for now. The bitter blend of hostility and betrayal thickens in the air as my grandfather, the very man whose face I loathe, steps closer, his sharp gaze boring into me with twisted familiarity.

“Is this how you greet family, Calista?” He taunts, his voice slick with condescension. “After all those years, I expected a warmer welcome.”

I let out a huff of disbelief, astonished at his audacity. “Family? You are not my family. You’re nothing but another fucking monster in a suit, and I’m done pretending to be scared of you.”

The room is on fire with the forever festering rage boiling inside me, and I can feel Killian beside me, solid and unwavering, a fortress against the flood that threatens to consume us. His presence is a reminder that I’m no longer that small, broken girl chained in the attic, shrinking away in terror. I’m not backing down this time.

“Calista,” my mother interjects, desperation creeping into her tone. “You don’t understand what you’re playing with. You can’t?—”

“Shut the fuck up,” I bark, bringing my knife into view so they can see it, cutting through her poor attempts at manipulation. “You don’t get to fucking pretend to care about me after everything you’ve put me through. That shit ends tonight. You will address me as an adult, not your scared little girl.”

My words hang heavily between us, an ultimatum cracking open the hardened surface of years of denial and deceit. My father, who’s been silent until now, clenches his fists, the knuckles turning white against the fabric of his slacks. I can see his temper brewing—something I've rarely seen—another spark igniting the fury within him, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of showing fear.

“Enough!” He barks, his voice echoing off the walls as he steps forward, attempting to regain control of the situation, but I stand my ground. I can feel Killian’s hand tightening around mine, a reminder of my resolve.

“Don’t fucking speak to her like that,” Killian says, low and menacing, pulling his gun from the back of his waistband and stepping in front of me, a protective barrier of masculine energy that dares my parents to challenge us. “You’ve fucking degraded her long enough, and now it’s time to face the fucking consequences. You think you just get to walk away from this? That you can run your family like a prison and treat her like a piece of trash? You heard what happened to our fathers—how we fucking butchered them for the shit that you motherfuckers started?”

My grandfather’s laughter is chilling. “You think you can frighten us with threats from a fucking street rat?” he sneers, his eyes narrowing. “You have no idea who you’re fucking dealing with. You don’t know the strength of my influence or the fucking power I hold. You leave here tonight, and I’ll see to it that everything you care about is fucking taken from you.”

"Joke's on you, old man. I care about nothing except for Calista, and I fucking dare you to try and take her away from me," Killian bites, venom lacing his devious laughter.

"I never back down from a dare, son."

I recoil at his words, but the anger isn’t for him. It’s for the fear he still manages to evoke in me, the ghost of a childhood where every threat became a reality. But Killian’s grip anchors my body, grounding me. I pull in a sharp breath, raising my chin defiantly.

“You think this is a game?” I say, my voice steady and clear. “You’re wrong. I refuse to live in this shadow any longer. I’m taking my life back and taking it out of your hands.”

I glance momentarily at Killian, who twitches at my side, pride swelling in his eyes as he watches me reclaim my voice. My grandfather tries to regain the upper hand, but this time, he falters. It’s a flicker of hesitation, and I seize on it, driving the point home.

“Everyone you’ve tried to control—everyone who stood by your side—is gone or breaking because of you. You can’t control me anymore. I’m not afraid of you—I'm not afraid of any of you.”

The truth falls heavy—soaring into the cracks of our suffocating family dynamic, shaking the very foundation we built as a facade of normalcy. I can see my father struggling against the tide of realization, ensnared in a web of anger and regret. It’s haunting, yet liberating, to witness him come apart.

“I’m done with your manipulation,” I continue, every word cutting deeper. “You’ve hurt enough people, and it’s time we stop pretending everything is fine between us. In fact, we should have never pretended because shit was never fucking fine to begin with.”

My grandfather’s face twists into a snarl, but beneath the fury is a glimmer of doubt, a crack in his carefully repaired armor. It emboldens me, fueling my fire, and I step closer, the air electric between us.

“To take from someone is to believe you own them,” I say through gritted teeth. “But here’s the fucking truth for you: you can never fucking own me. I’m not yours to wield or manipulate, and just because you wanted a puppet doesn’t mean I’ll play the fucking role.”

With that, I take another step forward, enough to make my presence unmistakably firm in the lineup of generations past. “Today is the day this ceases, and the cutting ends. Whether you want it or not, I’m drawing the fucking line. You will respect me and the decisions I make until all three of you breathe your last breath."

Killian’s grip remains tight around my hand as the air thickens with tension, and I swear I can hear the creaking of the walls as if the house itself is eager to break away from our toxic history. It feels exhilarating, cleansing even. The catharsis blooms in my chest with the knowledge that I’m finally breaking free.

The silence is suffocating as my parents exchange expressions of disbelief. I can see their disbelief morphing into dread as if they’re beginning to comprehend what I’m doing.

“No one is going to hurt you,” Killian growls, standing taller beside me, his protective presence unprecedented and fierce. “You don’t get to undermine her any longer—none of you.”

The realization washes over me in waves, their power seeping from their veins, dissipating the tight binds of an upbringing filled with oppression and trauma. My heart races with hope; we’ll not only sever ties but also break the cycle of despair they tried to wrap around me forever.

They glance back and forth as if trying to determine their next move, and in that moment, everything feels suspended in time. I breathe in respect—the kind of respect for myself earned through battles fought in the trenches of my spirit for the choices I’ve made.

Then, just as I feel we’re on the precipice of a change, the shimmering curtain of confrontation falls between us, the temperature drops, and a new voice ripples through the room—sharp and chilling.

“Calista. Killian,” a voice laced with authority calls out behind me.

I turn slowly, and my heart skips a beat as I see a familiar figure standing in the doorway—the unmistakable silhouette of one of the men who works security for my parents, his eyes radiating with a fierceness that matches my own.

“We’ve got a party of trespassers outside. It seems they didn’t take kindly to your little reunion.”

Just as he steps further into the threshold, the air thick with danger shifts, and in that instant, I feel my breath hitch. Here, liminal and steeped in uncertainty, I realize our struggle isn’t just against the ghosts of my past anymore. It's against a present that refuses to let go, and a looming darkness that has come searching for us.

But with Killian, Dominic, Five, and Ash by my side, I feel a stir of hope. If they want war, then we’ll fight. We’ll stand together—killers and combatants—to seize our lives back from the clutches of this twisted legacy, forging a path to our own destinies. The collective strength blooms as we prepare to face the chaos with courage.

“Let them come,” I say, voice steady and resolute, as I prepare myself for the fight of my life. “Tonight, everything changes.”