Beast, page 2
Chapter Three
IsaBelle
The strong tobacco scent fills the room before he removes it from his lips, allowing it to burn between his thumb and two fingers while his elbow rests on the desk. I catch the smoke curling through the air in my peripheral vision, refusing to allow the stare down to end because of my own weakness.
I decide to approach him… meet him across the desk and face him with the courage I worked myself up to have up until the sound of the door closing. He’s seen all the psycho he’ll get out of me. I won’t run from him. I won’t scream or cry in fear and I certainly won’t allow him to see that I’m intimidated by his heavy presence, no matter how true it may be.
Sitting with as much grace as I can possibly muster, I slip the hood off my head and drape my long hair over my left shoulder, laying it down over my chest. I slip my phone inside my backpack and set it on the floor next to my feet.
I sit with perfect posture, head held high and hope a falsehood of bearing as much of my true self to him works to get me out of this situation. We both sit in silence, taking in one another’s every feature that’s not blocked by the giant desk that separates us.
Does he recognize me?
He continues to smoke. His mouth moves occasionally, as if he’s about to say something, only to stop before he does. I purposely wait for him to speak first, wanting to only address what he asks about and not give away anything he doesn’t pick up on. I know full well that he’s capable of handling this without asking a question at all. He could pull out a gun and shoot me right where I sit and never inquire about why I’m here and what it is that I want.
My shoulders slump for a brief second when I start to think about the huge failure of being caught. I’ve surveyed this place for months and I would’ve bet my life that it was empty tonight. I’m not sure how I missed someone still being in the house… let alone him.
He sets the cigar on an ashtray between us and leans back in his chair. With his hands resting on the arms, he finally breaks the silence in the room.
“Why the fuck are you in my house?” I swallow as soon as the roar of his voice echoes through the room.
“I’m just looking for valuables,” I lie. From the look on his face… he doesn’t believe it.
“You think I believe that you came all this way to steal from me?” He’s right about it being all this way. His house isn’t on any beaten paths or even in a prime place where a thief would choose to take a chance. It’s miles and miles from any other civilization and he knows just how hard this place is to find, unless you already know it’s here. He knows I didn’t just run in here off the streets to score a quick rip off with a plan to jet.
“It’s true. I need money and thought maybe there would be some rare stuff I could sell in this place.” I run a finger over the end table to my right, proving my interest in the detail along the edge.
He lifts the cigar to his lips once again, deep in thought about his next response. “What do you need money for?”
“I’m on the run. Just need it to survive.” I shrug and nonchalantly toss my hair behind my shoulder.
“Ever heard of a fucking job?” It’s obvious he’s getting more irritated by the second when the last sentence comes out even harsher than any before.
“I would consider one if I planned to stay.” This time I give him partial truth. I have no intentions of staying in California and definitely don’t want any responsibilities to tie me to this place, but I had to have a source of cash flow, so I started working at a local bar this past week.
“So… you think you can just roll in here and tiptoe through my house. Take anything you want, and fucking sell it to make a dime.” He draws in more of his cigar and slowly releases the smoke by barely opening his mouth, not even rushing it by blowing it out. His face is still fierce behind the haze. “How many hours did you put into this weak ass robbery attempt?” Days. I doubt he wants to know how many days I’ve watched his house, making note of every single person who came and went… all the way down to what they wore. Not to mention the days I spent planning how to execute this entire fiasco.
“A few.” He doesn’t quickly come back with a response and instead just watches me so hard that I start to fidget with the strings from my hood. His eyes lower to the movement over my chest while he rolls his cigar in the ashtray.
“You’d have made more by putting that time into a job you can actually handle.”
“Maybe.” He forgets to hold back his facial expression, lifting an eyebrow as he takes in my one-word response. I cringe when he takes the cigar to his mouth again, knowing he’ll take his time before saying something else. I fight the urge to start yelling at him to let me go, wondering if taking the crazy path would’ve been less time consuming. I know it would’ve been easier on my nerves. Patience isn’t one of my virtues.
This time he lets the smoke roll out of his nose and I get lost wondering how he just did that without choking to death. My eyes are drawn to his lips coming in and out of view behind the smoke. Hair frames his mouth with a mustache and full beard that’s been groomed just as much, if not more than the rest of him. The sides of his head are buzzed short, but from what I can see his dark brown hair is long on top… tucked back into a ponytail or braid, pulling off a very clean look for a man with as many tattoos as he has. A clean look for the guy I remember seeing a picture of years ago.
He turns his head to sit the cigar back down and I catch the scars on his left cheek. It looks like an old injury that didn’t heal the prettiest, but he makes it sexy.
Rugged. Dangerous. Fierce. This man doesn’t know fear.
“Why are you really here?” I know without a doubt the man in front of me doesn’t give a fuck about morals or doing what’s right, so there’s no way I can tell him why I’m really here. He won’t give me what I came for and I’m not ready to show him all of my cards and let him know who I am. I can tell that he doesn’t recognize me by his lack of reaction to seeing me. She must not’ve talked about me.
“I’m really just here to score some shiny shit to sell. Maybe you could say I was intrigued by your castle in the trees.”
“How did you find it?” He’s quick to come back this time.
“I came up on it one day hiking.” Another lie. I watch as he stands and purposefully walks around the desk to tower over me, his cologne now more fragrant than the smell of tobacco. I refuse to look up at him, focusing my attention on the tattoos peeking out from underneath the long sleeves he’s wearing.
There’s no warning of his change in temper before he grabs me by the neck and yanks me to my feet. His grip is ruthless, squeezing so tight that I’m instantly aware the privilege of being able to breathe has been taken from me. He now controls whether I live or die.
With my body flush against his, I try to swallow and find it inside me to look into his eyes once again… this time tears running from mine.
He’s murderous. That calm and collected guy that sat across the desk is long gone and he left behind the Beast. Now I see exactly how he got his nickname.
I claw at his wrist, silently begging for him to give me the slightest bit of sympathy and allow me another breath. Wanting someone’s pity is a new feeling for me. I’ve spent my entire life proving that I don’t need anyone to help me… and I damn sure don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me.
“Try again.” Rage swirls in the air around us and I know if I could breathe, the air would feel heavy with his threat. I tip my head up to him, feigning confidence and gaining the slightest break in his grip. Just enough to take a breath.
“I heard someone talking about it and had to see it for myself.” His eyes are dark as they look straight into my soul. He’s intrigued by me, and I can almost imagine the wheels turning in his head as he contemplates what to say next.
He finally blinks and when his eyes open again, he moves his focus to my mouth. His thumb slides over my jaw and he uses his grip to tilt my head to the side while he studies me closely. Does he remember me?
He exhales in frustration once he’s meticulously looked over my face; taking a step back, he removes his hand from my neck with a quickness. Like I burned him. Maybe he can see the resemblance. Maybe his nightmares are just as real as mine.
“What’s your name?”
“Izzy.”
“Izzy.” He whispers it, taking another step back before stopping to stare at me once again. It’s all hitting him. He remembers me. The past is mixing with the present and he’s most definitely not a fan. He knows exactly who I am and I’m sure he’s not thrilled to see me, but that’s okay… because I’m not thrilled to see him either.
He pulls out his phone and begins tapping aggressively before he manages to put on his calm façade once again. I run my hands over my neck, still feeling the effects of his grip.
He reaches under the desk and then I hear the doors behind me open. He leans over the desk to accentuate his threats. “Look at my face. Get a good fuckin’ look at it so you’ll recognize me in your nightmares. You’re gonna regret the day you broke into my house.” I’ve already burned into memory every single one of his features. I’m not scared; he’s already been the main character of my nightmares. Now I just have a more precise image of what he looks like. Those six years weren’t kind to him.
There’s a hustle of footsteps behind me, but I don’t flinch or turn to see what’s coming for me… instead I stare down the Beast, preparing myself for the backlash from what I’m about to say. He’s avoiding the truth and I’m not about to let him forget what he’s done.
“Did you threaten Anna before you killed her too? Have your goons hold her down while you ripped her apart?” Hands from both sides of me yank me up to my feet. They sling me around with ease and I can tell they’re obviously much larger than I am without even looking.
They both begin to restrain me, wrapping my wrists with rope and who knows what else while I kick and fight until I’m facing him again. I scream for added effect. “Or maybe you just tied her up like a fuckin’ animal because you’re fuckin’ weak. You disgust me.” I spit across the desk, my aim dead on, hitting him across the face. I’m not sure if it’s my words that have him on the verge of rage or if it was the spit, but there’s no missing the furious expression he holds.
“Yeah… you know who I am now, don’t you? Look at my face. Get a good look at who will be taking over your nightmares, you fuckin’ psycho.” He steps in front of me while my screams still echo through the room. I fight against my restraints and stretch to the tips of my toes so I can get closer to his face because I want him to hear me loud and clear.
“You’ll regret the day you killed my sister.”
Chapter Four
Beast
Her screams claw their way through my body, irritating the scars from years past and gut me like nothing has since those days years ago. She has no idea what happened to her sister, and I don’t have it in me to relive it all to tell her. The memories are torture enough. I’ve never shared what happened out loud and don’t plan to tonight.
She’s right… I did kill her sister. It’s because of me she’s dead, but I’m not going to give this girl an ounce of truth tonight; her thieving ass doesn’t deserve another second of my time. Did she think she could just come in here and steal shit because she thinks she knows the story of how her sister died?
“Lock her up in a cell.” Lou looks at me with a sadness. He knows what her words will do to me. He knows I’ll hear them forever as they echo in my mind and torture me along with the real screams from years ago.
She opens her mouth to speak and before she can get a word out, Chip yanks her against his chest and clamps a palm over her mouth. He leans in against her ear and speaks through gritted teeth. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut your damn mouth. Bite me and I’ll cut off your clothes, slice you up and feed you to the dogs.” His words surprise me. I didn’t think he had it in him to be that intimidating… but fuck if that wouldn’t scare the devil himself. Maybe there’s hope for my little project yet.
“Take her down and put her in cell one. I’ll be down in a few minutes.” Lou instructs Chip to handle the girl while I pace the room until he’s managed to wrestle her out the door and out of ear shot.
She’s struck a nerve. One that wasn’t too deep for her to find and one she didn’t hesitate to sever. One that no one has dared to go at since I killed a man for it at the age of seventeen.
“How would you like me to handle her, Boss?” Holding up a hand, I start to pace again.
“I’m still trying to decide what I want to do with Izzy.” Just saying her fucking name has me irritated. Who does she think she is? She can’t break into my house and get away with it and she sure as fuck can’t talk to me like that. It’s not how things work in my world. People die for less.
I slam my palms on the desk and then swipe everything onto the floor in a fit of fucking fury. I’m consumed in destroying things and before I know it, I’ve already yanked two bookshelves to the floor, sending books flying in all directions.
I’m mid-roar when Lou grips my shoulder to calm me. Breathing hard and craving annihilation, I fight the urge to grab the next bookshelf and send it to the pile with the others.
“You’ve come too far for this.” I hear him through the chaos swirling around in my head. I hear him over the memories flashing and the echoes of old screams, but I’m past the point of calming down.
“I need to ride.” I let the promise of peace move me and make my way out the door. I need to get the fuck out of here.
I don’t have to leave any orders for Lou to handle the girl. I know he’ll get rid of her. He and the guys will do whatever it takes to remove situations like this from my reach. Anything to protect the club president.
The door to the garage is already up when I straddle my bike and start it up; Chip must’ve just pulled in. I leave with a few extra revs echoing through the trees to match the anger I’m feeling inside.
I’m racing through the tunnel of trees that lead up to the house with the weight of the world on my shoulders, pressing on my chest from all angles and practically suffocating me even though the wind should be giving me that fresh breath of air that I need.
“Fuck.” I squeal to a stop before I get to the gates and flip the kickstand down on my bike. I’m off and pacing, yanking off my jacket and anything else that could possibly be restricting me from catching a fucking breath. Is this what a heart attack feels like? My clothes are shredded layer by layer until the night air tickles my back and chest.
A single light shines between the trees, making it apparent that I’m about to have company… and that’s the last fucking thing I want. In a rush, I toss my jacket and shirt into the trees and get on my bike, ready to get lost in the darkness when I recognize who is coming at me. Hunter. If I could ask for one person to roll up right now, he’d be the one. He knows the most about my old life and won’t have to ask questions to understand the shit I’m dealing with.
“I came as soon as Lou called.” He takes off his helmet and leans against his bike, his calm demeanor an instant relief. “Anna’s sister, huh?”
“Yeah. What are the fuckin’ odds?” I mimic his stance and lean against my bike as well, only without the relaxed aura.
“Pretty good, considering. We knew she’d grow up one day. Wouldn’t you come looking if it was your sister?” He pulls out a pack of smokes and hands me one.
He has a point. If I was in her shoes, I would’ve blown the whole fuckin’ place up just to get through the doors. I would’ve done it years ago… but I guess she was just a kid.
“She blames me for killing Anna.”
“And you blame yourself, so I’m sure you didn’t correct her. I’m sure your guilt made you look responsible.”
“I am responsible.” My voice comes out matching my emotions. Frustrated…tired and mad as hell I get back on my bike, more than ready to put some distance between me and the new added reminder of all those years ago.
“You’re not the one who killed that girl. Hell, you barely fuckin’ survived that shit yourself. When are you going to let that undeserved blame go?”
“I guess never.” I hang my head low and start my bike, drowning out anything else he might say, although I can almost hear him over the roar of my bike.
“You didn’t do shit wrong. I drug your lifeless ass out of that cave just minutes before you would’ve died. You were seventeen, for fuck’s sake. How could you go against ten men?” I look over to see if he’s yelling or if I’m just replaying what he’s said a thousand times over the years. “You’ve got to quit livin’ in that fuckin’ cave.”
I did what we both knew I was about to do and took off without saying another word or looking back. The trees provide a darkness that isn’t easily found under the California sky, but tonight I need to get away from here.
“You’ve got to quit livin’ in that fuckin’ cave.” I replay Hunter’s words, even though I know they won’t be able to snap me out of my rage. I don’t live in the past constantly… more like visit it often. Mostly when I can’t sleep, which is every single fucking night. My mind just takes me there, no matter how many ways I’ve tried to prevent it.
I thought the screams would fade once I killed the last guy from the ten, but I strapped him to the cross and gutted him over two years ago. Watching his expression the entire time I tortured him to death only gave me moments of satisfaction… and no real relief from the guilt.
Anna was my weakness and in this world, you can’t let anyone know you have such a flaw. It’s a lesson I learned all too well at the age of seventeen.
Chapter Five
IsaBelle
“Let go of me. I can walk if you’d quit trying to drag me, you freakin’ barbarian!” I’ve lost track of where he’s taken me. This house is huge, with many halls and doorways to get lost in. I’m not sure I’ll know which way to run when I make my escape, but that doesn’t stop me from working my hardest to take it all in.
