Page 4 of Dismantle & Prevail
“I can promise you, it's not. Let's go.”
Aries motions for me to follow him, but I dig my heels in, and he turns. “Taylor. I said let‘s go.”
A smile spreads across my face. “Fine, but I need to tell you something first.”
His eyes shine with annoyance as he places his gun in the back of his pants and nods at me.
In a flash, I punch him square in the balls and he hunches over, his head dipping to my shoulder. “That’s for touching me without my permission. Do it again and I will take a knife to them.”
With that, I leave him there and get into the car that is waiting with the door open, the VP standing to the side with a slight smile on his face.
Present Day
Aries kept true to his word, reuniting all the girls with their loved ones. Most of which are now thriving thanks to the constant checkups and aid from Resilience and Braveheart. The money I wrongfully stole helping with their success tenfold.
After being released from rehab, Reagan even came to stay at the Clubhouse with me, which was key for my mental health and hers, too.
And although I hate to admit it, Aries was right about me. He saw through the hardened exterior and made it so that living life in jail cells and on the street was no more. But that doesn’t mean that myother than lawfulcomputer skills weathered away. Aries put me to work aiding Resilience. From the outside, it may seem wrong, but knowing I am a tool in helping rescue victims just like me makes it all worth it.
My life looks completely different from how it was back then. It's filled with days under Aries’ watchful eye, exhilarating missions, and friendships that I wish will last a lifetime.
But one thing remains the same. I am still that girl that was broken, beaten, and used as a pawn in someone else's chess game. I hope that one day soon I will break out of that mold, but it has yet to be seen. And until that happens, I will continue on like I am.
A girl who can fight her own battles and stand up for those who can no longer stand on their own.
Chapter Two
Aries
“Isaidno,Taylor.This will just be a simple in and out ordeal. If you came with me, it would only draw attention, but also take ten times longer to get there since you can’t ride on back roads like I can.”
Taylor huffs. “Fuck off, Ari. Yes, I can.”
My eyes roll and I lean against my all black Harley, my leather jacket covered arms crossing over my chest. “Tay. I’m fucking tired. You and I both know you are not the strongest on dirt roads on your bike. It will slow me down and I need to be gone one day, max.”
Taylor throws her tattooed arms in the air, her newly dyed black hair flying in the summer wind. “Come on, Ari. When are you going to stop treating me with kid gloves and actually allow me to do more than sit behind a computer or only go on missions that are with the entire team?”
Her annoyance is clear, but I stand my ground. “You have been on countless missions, just you and I. I’m not sure what bug crawled up your ass and why you are being so damn persistent, but you need to drop it. You are not going.”
Taylor’s arms fold across her chest, leaving her newly tattooed blue butterflies to shine in the sunlight. “Whatever, Ari. But I hope you know that I’m about at my limit for people not believing I can do more than just stand in the background and provide emotional support or sit behind a damn computer screen.”
Fucking hell.
I scrub my hand down my face and stand, my arm moving to pull her into a hug. Her freckled nose scrunches as she looks up at me with disdain written all over face, her arms still folded. “Quit with the theatrics, Hellhound. I have told you time and time again that you are a key member of this team. You just aren’t needed on this particular trip.”
Taylor’s response comes in the form of her signature eye roll I’ve grown accustomed to over the past two years. Usually I want to tell her to knock it the fuck off because her defiance annoys the ever living hell out of me, but I don’t.
Like I told Taylor a few minutes ago, I’m fucking tired and just want to get this day over with.
With one last squeeze just to piss her off, I release her and turn to face my bike, throwing my leg over and sitting on the leather-bound seat.
Taylor stands at my side as I release my hair from its knot to put my helmet on. My eyes close briefly as I mentally prepare myself for this ridiculously long drive to inspect what looks to be a dead end. But in this line of work, you can never trust a dead end until proven that it is, in fact, dead. Hence, me going on an eight-hour drive after only getting home from a trip to Seattle six hours prior.
The engine rumbles to life and I steal one last glance at Taylor and flip the visor on my helmet.
“Be careful. Check in.” Taylor’s farewell sounds much more annoyed and less like a worried sentiment.
“Be good. Listen to Boone or Indy.” A smile spreads across my face at her clear annoyance, firing on all cylinders. And because I love fucking with this hellhound, I toss her a wink and drive out of the gated compound, waving to the guards as I pass them.
