Dead-Eye Angels MC (Book #1)

⍱The Games Come To End⍱

Shanice's POV

It's been over a month since I woke up in Doctor Sanders' makeshift hospital room. The physical scars have abandoned my body, and besides a few aches here and there, I'm physically to my old self. Unfortunately, the number that Nate and his buddies put me through still lingers on. It comes in subtle ways, from the roaring of a motorcycle or the hearty chuckle of a passerby. It sends me back to that back alley, putting my body through a frenzy. Reliving every blow I received and my inability to save myself. What ifs run amuck throughout the entire day as I look towards downtown from Karl's balcony.

These moments of so-called clarity torture me as I dissect every moment since I stepped foot at that cul-de-sac. There are moments that I cower and think about my mother's words, how I should have stuck with Jin. Although his priorities were fucked up wouldn't let any physical harm come to me. If he or any of the Black Dragons knew of Nate's shenanigans, they would have put a permanent end to it. But the price I would have paid was to be in a marriage with someone who doesn't love me. Who would only be by my side for the sake of duty and power?

According to Karl, I should talk to his psychiatrist, although he makes a good point. I believe in white-knuckling it: accept and move on. It may not work for everyone, but it has helped me in the most challenging times of my life. And now, after this beating, it has given me clarity on Nate and the Dead-Eye Angels. I was playing a cat-and-mouse game, and the cat won, a.k.a Nate. The only way to move on is to lick my wounds and focus on my career. Perhaps I'm not cut out to have my own clan if I can't realize when I'm out of my depth.

Light footsteps pull me out of my reverie. "Hi, Kokopuffs. How was work?" I ask my best friend, the only man who has supported me through my stay in Atlanta.

"Work is work," he plops on the couch with a beer in his hand and puts his feet on the table. "What did you make for lunch?" Karl asks.

This past month I've been living with Karl. Well, he's been giving me my space while he shacks up with his boyfriend, Alex. But sometimes, he works half a day, and I make him lunch and the occasional dinner. I don't want him to disrupt his life because of my mistakes. "I've made you a steak and cheese sandwich with green bell peppers." I bring him the plate and set a glass of water next to it on the coffee table.

"Not even Alex takes care of me like this," he murmurs between bites.

"Because he's looking for your figure." I eye the tiny gut forming on Karl. The boy can eat, and I don't know where he puts it. It must be those Italian genes of his.

When he finishes his sandwich, he searches for my eyes, trying to talk about the subject again. "Shanice, I love you, and I'm not doing this to torture you, but you need to talk to someone about what happened... What you went through... Can have a lasting effect on your psyche if you don't do something about it." Karl implores. But I am fine.

"Karl, stop worrying. I'm doing fine. I've accepted what happened, and I've moved on," I stand on my point. Why does he keep pushing this?

"No, you haven't. When was the last time you left the apartment? Karl asks, tapping his foot on the carpet.

"I love your apartment. Why would I leave? It has everything I need, and I can shop for groceries online." I tried to convince Karl, but the last time I went outside, I had a severe anxiety attack at the roar of a motorcycle. The nurses at the hospital drugged me up with clonazepam. After that involuntary high, I decided not to step foot outside the apartment. But instead of telling Karl that I'm afraid, I double down like a stubborn mule. "Besides, I can leave whenever I want to."

Karl raises an eyebrow and crosses his arm, unwilling to believe my sudden jolt of bravery.

"I'll prove it." I triple down. "Let's get my stuff. It's time I moved out of that hell hole."