They were in a school to learn how to kill, and they did. As children, some starting younger than five, they learned. They absorbed every lesson, they practiced any gift they might find they were good at and they wove themselves together, forming a pack every bit as strong as the wolves they shaped themselves after.
“She has to know everything, Savage. That’s the code. That’s what we live by.”
“I’m well aware, Czar.” Savage sighed and rubbed his temples. “You think I want to be the way I am? I’ve tried everything to be different. Nothing works.”
“I’m aware you’ve tried. I’ve done the research as well. There isn’t a cure for any of us, but none of us can tolerate any member of this club abusing a woman. If you bring her into this club, she’s ours to protect. You understand fully what I’m saying to you.” Czar pinned him with his direct stare, the one that warned all of them not to fuck with him. “You hit that girl, you punch her, slap her, abuse her in any way, I’ll put a bullet in your head.”
Savage was more than happy to hear it. He’d put the bullet in his own fuckin’ head. But he had to clarify. Czar had to know this wasn’t going to be so black and white.
“I needed to hear that from you, Czar. I would never hit her like that. It’s never been about that, and I think you know it. I won’t tolerate her fuckin’ with the rules, she’ll be punished, but she’ll agree ahead of time what that is.”
Czar shrugged. “That’s between the two of you, and I’m not talking about that.”
“No, you’re talking about when I lose it and need to fuckin’ get off when my woman is carrying my shit. I’ve always been careful, you know that. Seychelle is mine. I would protect her with everything in me. What that means is, I’ll have her consent and I’ll always be careful never to go too far. If I fail, I’ll be the first one to go for the gun.”
He didn’t look at his brother. Not one single time. He’d been there. He’d been forced to watch. Then it continued in order to keep Reaper alive. So long. So many girls, and all the while someone had been making certain that he’d been feeling great, that his cock was sucked or fucked and he was very happy. He hadn’t had a chance to ever be normal. He didn’t know how to be normal. He never would. Seychelle would pay the price and he would hate himself always. There was no way out for either of them now.
“I fuckin’ hate what they did to you,” Czar said. “There was no way to stop them, Savage. I didn’t know. Reaper didn’t know. Not at first, the first few years, and after, it was already too late. I’m sorry, brother. I’m fuckin’ sorry.”
Savage pressed his fingers tighter against his temples. “Wasn’t anyone’s fault. We all had it bad, but we got out. I’ll deal with it. I’ve always dealt with it.”
“She has to know ahead of time. Give me your word on that. I don’t care how you bring her in, how you make her yours, but you have to get her consent. Once she gives it and she’s in, we’ll back you all the way.”
“And you’ll have her back,” Savage clarified again. “Once I’ve claimed her and she’s mine, every single member, including my brother, has to have her back.” This time he looked at his brother. Reaper. His world before Torpedo Ink. His reason for becoming the way he was.
Reaper nodded and then abruptly turned and stalked out, slamming the door behind him.
Czar looked down at his hands. “You get into trouble anytime, day or night, you come to me. You understand, Savage? You’ve always carried this alone, but now you have a woman. If she’s the right one, she’s worth everything, including your pride. You come to me if it gets too bad and you get worried for her.”
Savage pushed himself up and looked at his president, father, brother, all rolled into one. “I swear it on Torpedo Ink.” It was all he had to give. His word. He knew they took that as gold. He gave it that way.
He took his time riding back to Sea Haven, needing the cool wind in his face, blowing out the memories that clung too close. Pierce’s betrayal had brought them too close. They all had liked the man, but they had to remember always, his entire loyalty was to his club and he had no room to be loyal to anyone outside of it. Neither did they. They were Torpedo Ink, and only those within their club could be trusted. It was a hard lesson for all of them.
He thanked Preacher and Ink and let them know he’d be riding the next day and he’d text them. He stood for a long time looking down at his woman. She looked small in the big bed. She wasn’t curled up but looked as if she’d fallen asleep on her back, her arms flung out, her legs stretched out in front of her. Her hair had not been put back into a braid, and all that thick, silky hair was over her pillow and around her face.