A Wild Ride (Hell's Tribe MC Series) [Book 7]

Chapter 6: Pink Hearts

I was totally watching Purple Hearts when I wrote this chapter. Can you tell? I'm currently posting this from Sorrento Italy, and can't wait for you all to read it !

Enjoy!

~Maggie~

That overwhelming feeling from before hadn't disappeared no matter how hard I tried to ignore it. I thought a distraction like shopping with the old ladies might help, but it only worked for so long. I thought silence would put me at peace, but when we got back from the mall and I locked myself into my childhood bedroom to try on the new wardrobe I had purchased, it was like the walls were caving in on me. The silence became deafening. My heart was beating a million miles a minute as if I was running a marathon or something, but really I was standing still, just trying to keep breathing. In my head, I knew it was probably just anxiety, but for a moment there, it really felt like my heart was about to beat outside my chest.

My mind wouldn't let me forget that moment in the bakery that had brought me back here.

Owen.

His limp body laying on the ground.

My hands, covered in his blood.

The reality of what I had done was hitting me like a ton of bricks.

I killed a man.

I ended a life.

I was keenly aware of this fact the moment after I had delivered that fatal blow to his head, but I had justified it then. It was self-defence. Had I not taken such drastic measures, I would be the one laying dead in St. George right now, but as much as I tried to remind myself of that, it didn't make me feel better.

I told myself I wouldn't take it back, and that Owen deserved it for what he had done, which was all true, but I was having a harder time convincing myself of that as the days passed.

That was guilt coming back to bite me in the ass.

Shit—maybe I was a good person after all?

A bad person wouldn't give a shit if they whacked someone. They'd sleep like a baby and move on with their life without a care in the world. I, on the other hand, couldn't close my eyes without seeing his face, feeling his hands force themselves on me, or hearing the way his voice twisted into something dark and evil like it had that night.

Owen was haunting me from the goddamn bakery grave—the fucker.

Even dead he was a pain in the ass.

I'd say it was good riddance, but the prick wouldn't leave me alone. The second I was alone with my thoughts, he was all I could see. He consumed every moment my mind was free. I could distract myself with Tribe bullshit all I wanted, but it was only a temporary escape.

A loud knock on my bedroom door pulled me out of my head for only a brief moment.

I gasped at the sound, feeling my heart pound even faster—if that was even possible.

"Mags?" My mom's voice rang from the other side of the door.

"Ye-yeah?" I stammered as I struggled to regulate my breathing.

Part of me wished I could curl up in my mom's arms and cry like a baby as I told her everything that happened and how I was beginning to feel like I would never be the same again. It had only been about a week since it all went down, but I wasn't sure how long these feelings lasted after murdering someone. It's not like they wrote a damn guide about it on the internet.