Page 48 of Beautifully Shattered
“Thank you for coming today. I know it’s been hard.”
Reaching up, I cup his jaw, loving the feel of his beard against my palm.
“I thought I was just coming for you,” I say softly, “but I quickly realised I was here for me, too.”
He nods, probably thinking I mean saying goodbye to his club brothers. And yeah, that’s part of it, but it’s not the whole truth.
I came here today to seek justice. That’s all I had on my mind when we left this morning. All I thought about as we rode up the long driveway of the compound.
But witnessing the funerals here today… I realised I wasn’t just here to seek justice for Bobbi… but now I want it for the eight men now nothing but ash in a box, too.
“Are you two ever gonna let go of each other?” JD snickers, deliberately shouldering into us, and I step back as he slings an arm around Ringo’s shoulders. “Come join us. I was trying to tell Brody about that time Stoner picked up that chick in Adelaide, and you ran into her in the pisser, nearly fucking choking on your saliva when she whipped out a dick and started pissing in the urinal next to you.” JD cackles, smacking Ringo’s back. “Come on. You tell the story so much better.”
A genuine smile breaks out across Ringo’s face, and wow, I love seeing it. Just for a second, the weight seems to lift off his shoulders.
“Fine,” he laughs, as JD pulls him towards the others. “You coming, Angel?”
This is it. My chance. It’s now or never.
“I’ll join you in a few minutes.” I flash him a small, fake smile. “I need to pee, and…” I point to my engorged boobs, and his brows shoot up.
“Oh, shit. Yeah. Of course.”
He looks a little nervous, which is odd to see, but this whole milk in boob situation is new for the both of us.
Andrea sent me some links to watch instructions on expressing some of the milk by hand to give a bit of relief. Maybe I should have shown Ringo too. It could help him understand better.
That will have to wait though. I have other matters that need tending to first.
“I’ll be back soon.” I wave him off, and for a moment, he hesitates.
His feet stop moving, and I worry he can see straight through my lie, but I shoo him with a flick of my hand, and he smirks, shooting me a wink before jogging to catch up with JD.
Not wanting to draw attention, I head to the barn, slipping inside where I know there’s a toilet the Doxies have been using.
The barn is empty and quiet, so I linger in the doorway, peeking back out at the crowd, noticing everyone is busy talking, drinking… grieving.
My gaze flicks over to the shipping container that sits alone. It’s on a patch of dirt, bald of grass, and the door is slightly ajar with a spray-painted warning on it.
Southern Sadists Only!
I know what’s under it.
The dungeon.
It used to be part of the old Vixen’s Lodge before it burnt down. The dungeon is the only thing that survived, hidden under the rubble, its metal walls cased in concrete protecting it from the inferno.
Jols gave up the details about it easily this morning, probably not realising I had a plan. Not realising I wanted to know where they were keeping their dog while the funerals were taking place.
Sucking in a breath to steady myself, mostly because I’m desperate not to get caught, I slip out of the barn and into the shadows, darting from tree to tree until I get close enough to the shipping container and slip inside.
There’s a hatch in the floor, and I flip it open, surprised it’s lighter than it looks.
Hovering over the opening, I stare down into the black void, and regret still not having a phone… again.
It’d be great if people would stop kidnapping me so I can keep a phone longer than five bloody minutes.
Glancing around the dim container, my eyes catch on a tangle of wires snaking up the wall to a switch. Rushing forward, I flick it on, and the space floods with harsh light, but so does the opening in the floor, illuminating a steep staircase that travels down to a metal door.
