Page 15 of Taunting Tarran (Wild at Heart #1)

THE BUTCHERBIRD

Our coffee shop Bean Dreamers had easily become my sanctuary, a cosy haven where I could escape the relentless demands of life and find solace with Rachel, Anna, Sarah, and Emma.

It is our little world, tucked away from everything else, where we laugh, share stories, and simply exist together.

I bring my clumsiness and sometimes albeit not often an infectious laugh to the group – at least that’s what they always said.

Somehow, I had a way of brightening the dullest of days.

Today was one of those drab days, with the sky a flat, lifeless grey.

Thick clouds hang low, smothering the town in a muted light that seems to drain the colour from everything around me.

The air carries a damp, earthy scent of rain and decay.

I see Emma’s wardrobe – vivid and unapologetically bright – standing out against the slick, rain-soaked streets.

It is as if her colours are challenging the gloom, her blonde curls bouncing as she shrugs off the rain like it was nothing at all.

I hop over puddles to join her, the crowd sweeping past me with heads bowed and umbrellas raised, faces lost in the shadows of rain, rushing to escape the dampness.

Stepping into the cafe, the inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills my nostrils.

The windows are streaked with rain, and blur the stormy world outside.

‘It’s raining cats and dogs out there,’ I say as the other girls join us.

‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ Emma shivers.

Pleasantries are exchanged, the rhythm of our voices blending into a comfortable hum of the cafe.

As the girls dive into their news and updates, laughter and exclamations raising here and there, my thoughts drift.

The events of the last few days vividly linger at the edges of my mind, unrelenting and pulling me momentarily from the table.

I nod and smile in the right places, but a part of me is elsewhere, lost in the tangle of recent memories while their chatter forms a soothing backdrop.

‘Hello, earth calling Tarran!’ Anna snaps her fingers.

‘I have something to confess,’ I admit, but that’s where I stop. The words falter, hanging in the air.

The girls’ eyes lock onto me, expectant.

‘She’s got a boyfriend,’ Emma declares, finger pointing straight at me.

‘Errm,’ I stammer, the courage I carried in with me now dissolving.

Boyfriend, or boy friend? Hardly.

Their gazes don’t waver. They can tell I’m holding something back – something we all swore we’d never do. That’s why I keep quiet most of the time. Every word I say feels like a lie by omission, hiding my past that refuses to let me go.

‘You finally got laid?’ Rachel blurts out, laughing. My eyes widen, and I throw my face into my hands.

‘No,’ I mumble, my voice muffled. ‘And no, no boyfriend.’

The waiter interrupts, placing five coffees on the table with a smile. ‘Here you go, girls.’

‘You did!’ Emma exclaims, pointing her finger at me like she’s cracked the case.

‘I didn’t, I swear,’ I blurt, grabbing her hand to stop the accusation mid-air.

‘But I do have a problem.’

They all take a sip of their coffees, their silence urging me to continue.

‘You’re pregnant?’ Anna ventures, her voice with mock concern.

‘God, no. Will you just -’

‘That’s ￡18.50,’ the waiter interjects, smiling politely.

‘Hey, let me get these,’ I say, fumbling for my bag. My hand freezes as I look inside, my stomach dropping.

‘Let me guess - you forgot your purse, Tarran?’ Anna teases, her laughter light but pointed. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get this round. You can owe us one.’ She scoffs playfully, handing the waiter a crisp ￡20 note.

‘Excuse me, I...I need to use the bathroom,’ I stammer, snapping my bag shut with trembling hands.

Without waiting for a response, I hurry away, my pulse pounding in my ears.

In the quiet sanctuary of the bathroom, I fumble to open my bag.

My breath catches as I spot another envelope inside.

My stomach churns, and my heart sinks further when I notice a dark smear of blood seeping through the paper.

‘Fuck! Fuck, fuck, what the fuck is this?’

My thoughts spiral in every direction as my trembling hands tear open the envelope. Sticky blood clings to the edges, smearing the familiar note inside. I barely glance at it before my eyes lock onto the words scrawled across the note.

Now that you’re mine, Tarran, I won’t let another man touch you. If he does, he’ll lose his hands. The Conqueror lost his teeth, and his cock...but I’ll spare you that image. It was hardly recognisable after I’d finished with it.

Any guesses who these belong to?

As I peer into the envelope, my stomach churns at the sight of two pink strips of flesh nestled at the bottom.

The bile rises, and I find myself hunched over the toilet bowl, retching uncontrollably.

After a moment, I force myself to breathe, to steady the chaos within, and zip my bag shut before heading back to the table.

But my hair falls in loose strands, framing the side of the toilet bowl again as my stomach churns, twisting in violent spasms. The pungent stench of ammonia burns my nostrils, sharp and acrid, as my trembling hands brush against the array of cleaning products tucked beside the porcelain.

With a shaky breath, I stand, walking towards the sink.

I cup my hand beneath the tap, swill water around my mouth, and spit into the sink.

My gaze rises, locking onto the mirror. The reflection staring back feels unfamiliar – eyes hollowed by exhaustion, skin pale, and my lips are trembling.

Red-rimmed eyes stare back, still wet with the remnants of tears.

With a trembling hand, I wipe away the traces of my despair.

This has to stop!

I tell myself the words while staring at the woman in the mirror who wears my face.

A woman caged not just by this man, but by my own making.

I tell myself I can’t live in this prison he’s constructed, but the truth is, the bars were forged long before.

They were wrought the day I shot my grandfather – a moment that cast me into darkness.

Since then, the claws of others have sunk deep, marking me as something special. Something desirable. Something worthy.

I just want to be left alone. The more people probe, the more they ask, the more I think about the dark shadow that follows me.

The more I feel obliged to feed it. That’s why I stopped therapy – one minute I’m nodding along, and the next, I’m having an out-of-body experience where I’m blowing half her face off.

Every session felt like a needle pricking at the veneer of normalcy.

It was like my therapist could smell the blood that stained my skin and wanted to suck the very life from me.

The more she asked, the more the darkness stirred within me, the more my shadow consumed me, leaving nothing but an empty shell, haunted by the ghosts of my past.

My darkness doesn’t want to talk – it wants to live.

I return to the booth just as the waiter approaches with a broad smile, his cheerful demeanor almost jarring. ‘Here’s your change,’ he says, his eyes sparkling with genuine warmth as he places a hand on my shoulder.

My heart leaps into my throat, panic surging through me like a wildfire.

‘DON’T TOUCH ME!’ I scream, the words tearing out of me as my discomfort boils over. My chest tightens, my breaths coming in shallow, rapid bursts.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ he apologises, backing away quickly.

‘Hey, Tarran. Are you OK?’ Rachel asks, her brow furrowing. ‘You’re sweating.’

‘I’m fine,’ I reply, taking deep breaths to steady my racing heart.

‘Oh my god!’ Sarah gasps with her eyes glued to her phone. ‘Hey, you know that club I told you guys about? It’s burnt down. The news says it was arson - a burglary gone wrong. Two bodies were found in the remains.’

‘Do they know who?’ I ask, quietly sipping my now cold coffee.

‘It says “unidentified”,’ Sarah replies.

The unease gnaws at me, growing heavier with each passing moment as the girls continue reading about the fire.

‘I wonder if Steve knows...’ Sarah murmurs, almost to herself.

‘Not going to dig up that old corpse again, are you?’ Anna scoffs. ‘Dump him, already.’

‘I haven’t heard from him for days,’ Sarah’s voice tinged with worry. ‘I didn’t mention it because I thought he had been going back to that club, but then...this.’

‘It won’t be him.’ Rachel says firmly. ‘He’s probably gone off on a bender.’

‘I haven’t had a call or anything,’ Sarah continues. ‘And he’s not answering any of my calls. Where could he be?’

I feel the weight of suspicion pressing down on me, suffocating. Steve was the only person that knew I went to The Lickerish Lounge. I can still feel the ghost of his lips brushing against mine.

No...Steve...lips...

‘I’m sure he’ll turn up, babes,’ Emma chimes in, her voice light, trying to cut through the tension.

‘Look,’ she adds, ‘we need a girls’ holiday. Get away from all this shit. What do you say?’

‘I can’t even remember the last time I had a proper holiday,’ Sarah mutters.

The rest of us nod; the sentiment digging deep. ‘Tell me about it,’ Rachel sighs. ‘The hospital has been a nightmare. Feels like I’m running on fumes.’ Her words are heavy, they made me ache just listening.

‘And if I don’t get a break soon, I’m going to lose it,’ Anna groans, glaring at us. ‘You two,’ she states, looking at Emma and me, ‘are way too quiet. Spill.’

Emma exhales slowly, pressing back against the booth like she wants to disappear into the cushions. ‘I just...don’t know if I can swing it right now. You know, the divorce and everything.’ The words hang there, sharp and jagged, slicing through the faint hum of voices.

Anna reaches across, her hand squeezing Emma’s with a quiet force. ‘Em, as your lawyer and, more importantly, your friend, I’m telling you – you can. You have to.’

‘And you,’ she says, her gaze drilling into me.

My lips quirk into a soft smile as I toy with the idea. I did have this time off after all. ‘Sun. Sand. A beach perhaps?’ I suggest.

Rachel rolls her eyes. ‘Not all of us are built like you, Tarran, the thought of letting these baps out in public? Hard pass.’

I can’t help but giggle. ‘Oh, come on. We’ll find a beach where the scenery’s so stunning, no one even notices us.’

Emma smirks as she leans forward. ‘Or we could just go to one of those nude beaches. Then everyone’s too busy worrying about their own wobbly bits to judge ours.’

‘Emma,’ Rachel interjects, ‘you might have just solved everything. No need to even pack!’

Everyone cackles, and momentarily I forget about Steve’s lips staining my bag’s inner lining.

I grin, leaning in to the laughter. The idea of an escape didn’t seem so impossible.

‘Hmm...Somewhere far away. No emails, no phone calls, no responsibilities,’ Anna states.

‘And no kids...’ Rachel murmurs.

‘That rules out the beach,’ Emma quips with a sly grin.

Sarah’s voice breaks through the silence as she tosses a colourful brochure onto the table, the paper edges already worn. ‘What about here?’

The girls all tilt their heads, arching a brow. ‘Spain? Seriously?’ Emma beams.

‘Why not?’ Sarah challenges.

No...anywhere but Spain.

‘It’s settled. Let’s start planning. We deserve this.’ Sarah holds up a finger, halting us – them , mid-celebration as she jabs at a line of text. ‘Hold on. It says here, the offer is only good ‘til the 9 th . That’s in two days!’

I settle deeper into the booth. They don’t know – how can they? The weight of my past, the vow I made to never return to Spanish soil, wasn’t something I’d ever shared. How can I explain that, while I now had all the time in the world, Spain remained forbidden?

I did enjoy punishing myself – dragging old wounds back to the surface, daring them to ache.

Or perhaps it was something else entirely.

Maybe it was time to stop running, to confront the ghosts I’d been trying to outrun for so long.

To face them head-on, and finally find the freedom I’ve been chasing all this time.