Enough(106)

“I am not a fucking possession!” I yelled the words. “I do not belong to the Brotherhood.”

“Afraid the club doesn’t see it that way.” He glared at me. “This isn’t news to you.”

I grabbed my hair, hoping the pain woke me from the nightmare.

“And our thing, it isn’t real,” I shot back at him.

“Are we breaking up?” His condescending words blew my temper wide open.

“Oh yeah, you controlling, backstabbing motherfucker. Did you learn manipulation at your mama’s tit?” I stalked closer, shoving my finger into his hard chest. “I see now how you worked it all out to get what you wanted.”

For whatever reason, he’d decided I was something he wanted, not to fuck, to care for the club or for another brother. I had no idea, but I did know staying wasn’t worth being controlled. I’d had a lifetime of controlling assholes, so I had gotten good at spotting them. Except I’d expected better from Dare, what a mistake.

Jericho stepped back, and there was Dare hanging behind his master.

“You two are a fucking pair. One I beg, and the other pretends to save me.” I laughed. “I give, I try.” I speared them with my gaze. “Only to be a tool to use.”

Dare turned from me.

“You proud of how you used me, twisted me up, tied me down until nothing—I have not one thing left here.” My voice broke, pissing me off to a whole new level

“I didn’t. I wouldn’t.” Jericho suddenly looked apologetic. “Shit, I never meant to hurt—”

“No one ever wants to hurt me, but they do. You do.” A tear escaped. “Well I’m done. Never think I don’t see you.” I stood chest to chest with the man who I’d thought a friend. “Consider this my two weeks’ notice. And you and your precious club can fuck yourselves.” I turned and stomped down the street. Mascara ran as the tears flowed freely, now. Rage and soul-deep despair fueled my meltdown. How could I have thought any of them cared about me? Pathetic.

I heard boots on the pavement behind me. Hands grabbed me.

“Goddammit, Jericho, let me...” The words died as I faced Dare.

God really hates me.

How many times did this man get to see me in tears? Why was I still being punished for loving him? I refused to fucking take any more.

“Lila, honey—”

“You, take your hands off me.” I growled the words. Rage snapped my spine straight and stopped the tears. “You lost the right to even speak to me, let alone touch me.”

He stepped back. “I hate to see you torn up.”

“Then don’t look.” I almost spit the words at him. “You and he can both fuck off. I’m done paying for the fucking sin of loving you. I’m gone. Gave my two weeks. I suggest you stay away until I’m gone. You two find someone else to mind fuck.”

I spun and ran around the corner. Dare didn’t follow and in a few steps I collapsed onto the sidewalk unable to move. Sobs racked my body.

A car stopped in the street by me. Glory and Avery rushed to me.

“Come on, honey,” Avery soothed. “We got you.” They scooted me between them on the bench seat of Glory’s car. I folded in to the seat, unable to care what happened. “Don’t worry, I brought your purse and jacket.”

I hadn’t even thought about them. Too busy burning my last bridge to the Brotherhood. So much pain—hiding my feelings and trying to play by the rules—to only end up in the same damn place I always did.

Why did I think I had changed the pattern? The only thing different was I’d told off the losers before I ran away. But it didn’t feel like progress. A weary bitterness settled over me.

Bad men. Losers. Men who had to control me—all I ever attracted. Funny how I just realized those words described the Brotherhood.

How could I have missed it?

* * *

Jericho sent me a text Sunday morning after I refused to answer my door or my phone.

You’ll be paid two months’ severance. Take the computer. And you don’t have to come in. Best luck, Mama.

I wept. I’d had the best time of my life with the Brotherhood in this nothing Oklahoma town. Grown into a kick-ass version of myself, only to discover the man I loved didn’t return my love and the idea of safety after it was over, it’d all been a scam. I didn’t know why, all I knew was I’d never had a chance.

Broken men had found their place to belong in the Brotherhood, but no room for me here. I wanted to hate them. I’d spent hours trying to turn my love to hate. If they were always assholes, it’d be easy to hate them, but those guys were part of some of my best memories too.