Page 84 of Slayin Villain
No matter how strong I pretended to be, I missed him.
But this baby would never feel that kind of abandonment.
I’d make damn sure of it.
Chapter 37
Villain
Everything fucking hurt.
The cracked ribs made it hard to breathe.The road rash along my shoulder throbbed like hell.My left hand looked like I'd boxed a meat grinder and lost.But none of it compared to the hollowed-out pain in my chest.
That crash should’ve killed me.
Hell, maybe I was hoping it would.
When they pulled me out of the woods behind Royal Road, the bike mangled against a pine and my blood mixing with dirt, I barely remember cursing them out for dragging me back to the living.Now, I was back in my house at the clubhouse, bandaged up, hungover, and full of bitterness.
Pagan had dropped my busted helmet on the floor like a trophy.
“Congrats,” he said, deadpan.“You lived.Dumbass.”
Kingpin showed up that afternoon, reeking of cigar smoke and judgment.
He didn’t yell.
Didn’t even raise his voice.
That made it worse.
“You done throwin’ your tantrum?”he asked, settling into the chair across from me like we were discussing church business.“Or you got another suicide mission lined up?”
I rubbed my forehead.“I’m not tryin’ to die.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”He leaned back, boot tapping the floor.“You crash your bike, end up face down in the woods, and for what?A woman?”
“It’s not like that.”
“No?”He gave me a look that stripped every lie off me.“Then what the hell is it like, Villain?'Cause from where I’m standin’, it looks like you knocked up a woman, lost her, then tried to drink and ride the guilt outta your soul.”
“I didn’t lose her.”
“She’s gone.Ain’t she?”
The words hit like another crash, slower this time, sinking in, not shattering.
“She left you, son.Packed up and disappeared.No note.No message.Just vanished.What the hell does that tell you?”
“That I fucked up.”
“Damn right you did,” he said.“But you still got one thing goin’ for you.”
I raised a brow.“What?”
He pointed to my chest.“You’re alive.Which means you’ve still got a choice.Be a man worth chasin’...or stay the kind that makes women run.”
Later that week, I sat alone in the clubhouse with a bottle of bourbon in my lap and bruises blooming under my skin like old sins.
