Beast slammed on the brakes with sudden sharpness, the squeal of tires pulling us to an abrupt stop in front of Jenna’s apartment building. He was glaring out the window, refusing to look at me, and I finally saw something more than just his anger.
He was hurt.
He felt betrayed.
He felt just like I did.
“I’m sorry, Beast,” I said, my voice soft. His jaw ground harder and I swallowed, my hands wringing the strap of my purse like it might be able to save me. “I’m really sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”
He scoffed and finally turned to look at me, and I saw the hurt in his eyes that he tried to hide from me. My guilt and shame flooded me, from the top of my head right down to the tips of my toes. I felt my shame at hurting him like I was under a magnifying glass. It burned like the rays of the sun were scorching my skin.
I reached out and placed my hand on his arm, and my heart hurt like I’d been stabbed in it as he bristled under my touch.
“Beast…” I said his name, needing him to look at me so he could see how sorry I really was, but he was still refusing to. I sighed and pulled my hand back. “I was scared. Really scared,” I admitted.
“I would have protected you. The club would have,” he finally replied.
“I know that now. But that’s the thing about hindsight, right?”
He finally turned and looked at me, and staring into his eyes was like looking into two dark chasms of pain. It was obvious now that he’d been hurt in the past, and my betrayal had made that ten times worse.
“You should have known I wouldn’t have let anything hurt you, Belle.”
And maybe I should have.
I stared harder at him, our gazes colliding in a mixture of pain and guilt and shame and hurt, and I felt tears prickle at the backs of my eyes.
“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I honestly tried not to. I was just trying to protect my family,” I said, my tone pleading with him to understand. “Jenna is all I have, and they threatened her. I was scared for me, but I was terrified for her. And I did everything I could to keep you all safe, because believe it or not, I care a lot about your family too.”
We sat in silence for several moments and I decided he wasn’t going to say anything else so I unclipped my seatbelt and opened my door.
“Belle.” Beast called my name and I turned to look at him. He sighed before speaking. “I’ll speak to Shooter. I can’t promise anything though.”
I nodded and sighed. “Thank you,” I said, which seemed like the two most pathetic words in existence.
Thank you for trying to save my life.
Thank you for not killing me yet.
Thank you for not hating me entirely.
It seemed absurd to be thanking him for not killing me, but there it was. This was what my life had been reduced to. And I deserved every part of it.
Thank you wasn’t even nearly good enough for how much I’d betrayed and hurt him, but it was all I had. Now if only he could say sorry to me too.
Chapter Twenty
~ BEAST ~
I wanted to tell her that nothing—not even God himself—was going to harm a hair on her head, because if he tried I’d bring forth so much wrath that even the Devil himself would be terrified of me. But then the irony of that statement, given that I’d intended to kill her only a few hours before, taunted me and I kept my mouth shut.
This morning had been different.
This morning I’d been hurt and angry.
Now I was hurt and angry but for different reasons.
Jesus fucking Christ, when did I turn into this guy—the one that had feelings? I’d cut off that side of me the day I’d killed my own mom, and I hadn’t missed him.
I slammed my hand on the steering wheel. “This is bullshit!” I yelled to no one, growing more and more frustrated.
And it was.
Total bullshit.
Belle didn’t deserve to die, even if the code said she did.
Shooter and the club had given her her life back while we waded through the shitstorm she’d helped create, but that didn’t mean they’d let her off. Despite the fear she’d felt, she’d still betrayed us—betrayed me. But maybe if she could redeem herself in their eyes.
I pulled out my cell and dialed Shooter, who picked up almost immediately.
“She cut loose already?” he asked.
Yeah, we’d all expected her to try to run. People in her situation tended to have the same two responses: fight or flight. So far she hadn’t done either of them, and maybe that was what was confusing me. Fuck, this whole thing with Belle had been confusing, right from day one.
“No, she’s gone to visit her godmother Jenna,” I replied, looking up at the window I knew Jenna occupied.
“What’s up then?”
“You spanked that bitch already?” Casa yelled in the background.
“Will you shut the fuck up?” Shooter grumbled. He was irritable. He was always irritable these days. Life at home wasn’t getting any better, and every day I saw more and more of his father in him with the way he spoke to everyone. Shooter’s dad Hardy had been the worst and best thing to ever happen to the club. He’d made all of us so much money and opened up so many channels for business, but then he’d gotten greedy. Life had run him through the mill until he’d turned his back on everything we ever stood for. When all this was over I needed to speak to Rider and Gauge and try and sort this shit out.
“She wants to make it right with the club,” I said bluntly, ignoring Casa.
Shooter sighed. “It don’t work like that, Beast, you know that.”
I pulled my cigarettes out of my cut and tapped one out with one hand before popping it between my lips, but then thought better of it. This wasn’t my car and she’d have a shit fit if I smoked in it. She was clearly proud of it, because it might have been a piece of shit but it was immaculate: not a piece of paper or a coffee cup, not even a smudge on the window. I unclipped my seatbelt and climbed out, and leaning back against the door I lit the cigarette and blew out a mouthful of smoke.
“It needs to work like that,” I replied as calmly as I could. Because it did. He needed to make it work or I would. No one was going to hurt her, I didn’t care what our code said. “She’s willing to do whatever it takes, Prez. She knows she fucked up and I’m backing her a hundred percent.”
Shooter sighed again and I realized that everything had gone quiet behind him. I looked up and down the street, and then back up to Jenna’s window. I’d been in these apartments before and knew they were nice inside, so it didn’t make any sense that Belle was living in such a shitty trailer while Jenna lived here. I scowled and took another drag of my cigarette, feeling pissed off for Belle all over again.
I was slowly figuring out what it was about Belle that had me all messed up: she reminded me of myself ten years ago.
“Well?” I prompted, trying to tame the attitude in my tone so as not to piss off Shooter, because that wouldn’t help Belle at all. But it was hard, because inside I was a mass of anger and frustration. “Don’t make me choose between her or the club, Prez.”
I hated saying those words to him, because we both knew what they meant. It meant if it came to a choice between her or the club…I’d pick her.