Dark Fall (Back Down Devil MC #3)(55)

Erik put the bathroom mirror in front of Kaity. She saw her face and gasped. There were stitches almost everywhere. Different angles and patterns. Red blotches of cuts and scars. It was bad. It was really bad.

“I’m sorry this happened,” Erik said.

Kaity pushed the mirror away and looked at Erik. “I don’t care. We can wear our scars together.”

Erik slowly and gently touched Kaity’s face. He nodded. “You make me want to stay alive, babe. For so long I wanted to end it all. But you make me want to keep going. If I ever have to wake up alone or with some other woman, I’d rather be dead. With you, I feel incredible.”

“I love you, Erik,” Kaity said. “I want to be here. Just like this. Well, not in a hospital…” Kaity smiled. “But with you. I'll be whatever you want and need.”

“Right now I want you to know something,” Erik said. “I want you to know that I love you too.”

“Kiss me.”

“Fucking right,” Erik said.

He moved toward Kaity and the taste of his lips was better than any drug the doctors could hook up to an IV for Kaity. She put her hand to his face and felt the ridges of his scars. She would have scars of her own now, because of Erik. Because of the club. But wearing her scars on the outside for the world to see only meant she was strong enough to do so.

Strong like Erik.

And strong like Back Down Devil MC.





twenty-seven.



Shay sat alone in his room. An old box next to him. A gun and bottle of whiskey rested on the nightstand. His body felt weak and tired. The weight of the world pressed on his shoulders.

He couldn't believe that all the bullshit was coming back to haunt him after all these years.

He thought about Erik. He thought about Kaity. He thought about the bombings, the fights, the war. Shay touched the box and opened it. It had been a long time since he looked inside. The memories were hidden in that box.

The first thing Shay touched was a knife. A small blade with a slight curve to it. He remembered the day he stole that knife off a man he killed. It felt like a lifetime ago though. That was the knife. The killing knife. Shay had done a lot of damage with that knife. The last time it was used, however, Shay swore he would never use it again for the rest of his life.

Until now.

Next to the knife was an old, faded picture, creased from being folded and opened hundreds of times. Three young boys stood next to their bicycles. It was years before they were old enough to ride motorcycles. Shay was in the middle. The boy to Shay’s left was his best friend. A guy he grew up with and loved like a brother. A guy he trusted for such a long time.

“Arengson,” Shay whispered as he shook his head.

Shay used to call him Angel to piss him off. He hated being called Angel.

Now he was dead. Dead before he could run his f*cking mouth and make this worse.

The worse part of the picture was on the other side of Shay. There, to young Shay’s right, was his big brother. Shay loved him dearly, but he and Angel turned into bad people and when Shay was forced to take his brother out, he messed up. Instead of slitting his brother's throat, Shay only sliced his neck.

That left him with a scar and a vengeance.

Shay never thought he’d see his brother again… but now he knew the next time he’d see his brother, he’d have to kill him.

Shay dropped the picture and reached for the whiskey. It was time to drink, plan… and then kill.

The MC was his family now, and he wasn't going to let his own kin destroy that.