The Rage(48)

“I know these past few days have been rough. I know there is a lot of emotional and physical healing that will need to take place for you and your family.” Family. The word family makes my stomach clench. It’s a painful word, but it’s the fucking truth. Lala is my family. She’s been my fucking family since she crawled into my bed and made herself at home with me. “There is one last issue that needs to be cleared up.” She motions with her hands at the double swinging doors.

A chubby, middle-aged woman waddles in, and in her arms is a baby. My heart drops to the floor. I look over her shoulder, hoping like fuck Clipboard was motioning for someone else, but she wasn’t. The woman walks straight for us and my eyes stay trained on the small baby. A head of dark hair is all I can see.

“Did you know that Ms. Ray had a daughter?” Lala had a baby? A fucking baby? I’m at a loss for words. I stare at the little baby and back at clipboard, trying to make some goddamn sense of all this. She’s small, smaller than Ty. Fuck, she’s tiny, but I can’t see her face because she’s asleep over the woman’s shoulder, and I can’t look away.

“I take it you didn’t know?” I sure the fuck didn’t. “Here,” Clipboard says, handing me a piece of paper, “This should clear some things up.”



Georgia. That’s my fucking daughters name. I have a kid. I have a fucking daughter. My head swims and my heart aches.

“Was she hurt too?” I ask clipboard, looking between the my small baby and the lady holding her. Shaking her head, she nods toward the woman holding my goddamn baby. “Ms. June here can explain some things for you.

This June woman tells me everything. She starts at the beginning, when Lala showed up in her trailer park, pregnant. She tells me about how Ryan was able to keep her and why she never looked for help. He made her work at his strip club, even when she was ready to give birth at any moment, just to degrade her even more. June was there with her when she went into labor, helping her get to the hospital, and watched my fucking daughter while that sick fuck used Lala as his own personal play thing and punching bag.

Georgia wasn’t with Lala when she almost died. June had her because she was working that night, but when they came home, she heard the fighting and kept the baby until Ryan left late the next night. When she went to check on Lala, that was how she found her. Assuming that Ryan had left for good, taking a large bag with him and a few of his goons in a rush, she was able to talk one of the neighbors into driving her to the hospital.

I couldn’t explain it to you if you asked me to, but that shit settles a little part of my broken heart. This tiny little human that I don’t even know, and had no idea existed, suddenly holds a piece of my heart I was sure only Lala would ever have.



“Fuck. How the fuck did this happen?” Both Tank and I look at Sis, rocking that – my baby. “Was she pregnant when she left?” He asks me.

“I guess so.” The dates work out that way. My baby is five months old, figured that’d put Lala at about three months pregnant when she left. Shit fucking hurts knowing she left with my baby.

Looking at Georgia, I can’t believe this is now my reality. It’s hard to fucking swallow the idea that there’s this little baby now that I will have to take care of. She’s here and she’s mine… she’s ours.

“What the fuck am I gonna do with a daughter?”

“Don’t know about a daughter, but I assume the same shit I do with Ty, brother. You’re gonna love her ‘n fuckin’ deal.” That shit sounds so much easier said than done.

“I can’t raise a girl by my goddamn self.”

“Rampage, you’re not alone,” Sis says.

I am though. It’s me and Georgia, and right now the one person we both fucking need is Lala.

“I can’t do this shit without her.” I tell them seriously.

“You won’t. Lala’s a goddamn fighter, Rampage. She will get better.”

“How the fuck you know that shit? Her last fucking memory is probably of Georgia. She was alone and she knew that no one was going to save her. I wouldn’t doubt that being in this coma is the most peace that she’s had in over a year. Why would she want to come out of it?” I feel that fear gripping the fuck out of my chest. I want her to come back to me so bad, I can taste it. I know that she lost hope in us when I told her I didn’t love her. If she knew she was pregnant, I can’t honestly say that I would have been even remotely happy about it. FUCK! I wish I knew what she had been thinking then. Things have changed, and I have changed. The only things I want in this life are Lala and Georgia. She gave me a gift that I never knew I wanted, but I will damn sure fight for it all. I want my Lala back. I need her. We fucking need her. I don’t want to raise our girl without her.

“You need to hold your shit together for this little girl. You have to take care of her for Lala while she gets better, okay? You’ve got this, Rampage. You got all of us to help you. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that Lala will get better.”

Lil hands me this little mess of dark hair and big, blue eyes. She looks up at me and gives me this big, bright smile and I choke on a sob. She’s all fucking Lala.

“We gotta handle him,” Tank says quietly, looking between my baby girl and me. He’s right, we fucking do. That motherfucker is gonna pay for what he did. He’s gonna pay for taking away my goddamn family.

“Sis, you got my girls?”

“Of course I do.”

Walking out of the room, holding my little Georgia, I have new purpose. I have a fucking problem to solve and I’m gonna take pleasure in dealing with it. I want my girls in a world that’s safe for them. They will never live in a world where he’s still breathing. I am going to kill him for everything he’s done, slowly and painfully.



It had to be this way. Fuck, there was no other way. This is life – my motherfucking life – and this is how I handle my shit. I spent money, time, and manpower on finding this piece of shit. I need it. God, do I fucking need it, but my girl, my fucking Lala, she needs this more than anyone. Every club member, old lady and friend of Lala’s, her fucking family, wants this for her, so I’m gonna make sure we all get what we want. I promised myself that I would always take care of mine, and I’m doing just that. I’m taking care of what’s mine.

“Took me a while to get you, you slimy fuck, but I knew you’d slip the fuck up soon enough.” I tell him.

He grunts around the tape in response. He shouldn’t have shit to say to me. There is no begging for forgiveness, no explanation that will keep me from causing him the pain he so richly deserves. He hurt the one fucking person I love, and there is no way in hell he’s getting away clean on this shit.

“Hand it to me.” I tell Stitch pointing at the eight-inch blade Buck knife. It’s just how I like my tools, dull and rusty. Gutted a few deer with it, a couple of fish, and a handful of motherfuckers. It’s my go-to tool.

He knows what coming to him so I get the party started. I don’t give him a second to think about it before I slice into his arm, pushing the blade in all the way to the handle. Skin gives, bone breaks, and muscle tears. He screams and I feel like I’m listening to my favorite song. I’ll bet he’s gonna scream more than Lala did. Motherfucker.

I let that blade sit for a second, letting him feel that terrible burn. I want him to see how I plan to take my time with him, and that he’ll die when I’m good and ready. I give it an oh so, slow twist, wanting to hear more of my favorite song – Keep fucking screaming.

This moron is crying, snotting, spitting, pissing, shitting…he’s a fucking mess, and it makes me smile. It’s a genuine fucking smile, teeth and all showing. I feel my heart filling up with pure joy knowing I’m giving back a little of what he gave Lala.

I watch as that perfect hue of red runs down his arm and into a puddle on the grass. We’re in the back yard at the club, my brothers standing around and watching. Even Happy is standing here watching the show. Our family has been fucked with too much, and he’s here to see that justice is served. This is how we handle our shit.

“What are you gonna do with him?” Gin asks, arms crossed, staring at Ryan. What am I going to do? I’m going to gut him like a fucking pig, that’s what.

“We’re gonna play a little game.”

Eight inches of rusty, serrated blade is thrust straight into his thigh. He’s fighting a useless fight. No amount of struggling is gonna help him. It only makes this shit all the more fun for me. I like to see the fight in a man who knows he’s got no chance of livin’. I want him to fucking suffer.

Ripping the tape off his mouth, I ask him, “Lala fight this hard, motherfucker?”

“I love her,” he pleads around a sob, spitting out blood as he talks. Yeah, I can see how much love he had for her while he was slamming the end of a rifle into her face, over and over again. I’ll bet he really fucking loved her when he left her for dead, bleeding and broken on the floor.

“I have to tell ya, Ryan. You sure do have a funny way of showin’ it,” Tank spits at him.