Sin & Suffer (Pure Corruption MC #2)(46)

My heart beat faster—just like it had the evening I’d witnessed domestic violence for the first time.

Oh, God. What was going on?

Arthur was curled up and bloody on the carpet in the middle of the lounge. Diane wailed from the kitchen as I dry heaved and clung to the windowsill outside with all my strength. I wanted to call Arthur’s name, to let him know I was there. I wanted to scream for help.

This wasn’t okay. Abuse was never okay.

But I couldn’t move from my secret spot as Rubix and Asus delivered kick after kick into Arthur’s stomach.

“Family doesn’t snitch, boy. I know it was you. You told Thorn about the raid.”

Coughing up blood, Arthur moaned, “It wasn’t me. I swear.”

“As if I’d listen to you.” Another vicious kick as if Arthur were a football and the goal net was miles away. “Do it again and this will seem like a f*cking picnic.”

Goose bumps sprang up over my arms. “You were telling the truth. You never told my father. Thorn found out some other way but it made no difference to Rubix.”

Arthur laughed coldly. “Believe me. By that point, he didn’t need a reason.” His gaze was flint and hardness, but his tone slipped into tender. “You made it better, though. You patched me up and made me so f*cking embarrassed.”

I shook the memories free of wiping away his blood and listening to his excuses for his father’s wicked temper. “It wasn’t the last time, either.”

Arthur shook his head. “No, not the last.”

“Now you remember how they punished you for doing nothing wrong, do you also remember how good they were at getting you to give in?” This was the part I feared bringing up. Arthur had a heart of pure gold, but like any precious metal it had impurities—imperfections that could be exploited and twisted to condemn its own molecular structure.

He sighed heavily. “Which downfall are you talking about? There were many.”

I traced the ropes of muscles in his forearm, not making eye contact. In a way, by not looking at him, I gave him an element of privacy. “Not that many. And I’m talking about the night they got you so drunk, you almost single-handedly exterminated the smaller MC just out of our boundaries—just because they lied that I’d been hurt by one of the prospects. You didn’t kill anyone, Art … but you were close.”

Do you see what I’m saying?

He froze. “I always wondered why I woke up to being reprimanded in the Club meeting and having dried blood on my fists.”

Shock turned me cold. “You mean … you don’t remember that, either?”

He smiled, but it wasn’t jovial or free. It was a trap, a cage—a self-inflicted sentence he couldn’t unlock. “No. It’s a blur. I know what I did. I felt their noses crack beneath my fists and I remember the taste of wretched bourbon as my father held my head back, making me drink.” He strained for more, but gave up. “That’s about it.”

“Well, my point is made, then.” I sat back, studying his face with anxious eyes.

He frowned. “What point?”

“You wanted so much to fit in with your family that you were at their mercy. You were manipulated first with kicks and harsh discipline and then encouraged by promises and kindness. They got you drunk, told you lies. They drugged you, told you more lies. They scrambled you up so much inside, Art. You had no idea what you were doing half the time.”

His mouth hung open. A beacon lit behind his eyes as a shred of hope ignited. “What … what do you mean?”

Taking a deep breath, I held my bleeding heart. “I mean you were drunk the night you shot my parents. Beyond drunk. You slurred and stumbled. You had a terrible black eye, blood on your lip, and could barely move. You were probably drugged, too. You couldn’t walk unassisted—let alone aim and shoot.”

Arthur scrambled to his feet, shoving me away from him. Pacing away, his fingers dived into his hair. “I don’t understand. That doesn’t make any sense. I remember everything so clearly.”

I stood. “Do you, though? What do you remember?” When he didn’t stop patrolling or chewing on his lip, I tensed. “You remember what they told you. You recall what they said happened. Believe me—you weren’t in any state to recall anything but a raging hangover.”

“But—I shot them. I remember that.” Spinning around, his words spewed forth in a confession-torrent. “I’d pumped myself up to do it. I had no choice. My father threatened you. He said he’d rape you in front of me, then kill you in front of Thorn. He said if I didn’t do it, he’d make me wish I was dead but never give me that freedom.”

My heart stopped beating. “You’re saying you went along with it to save me? You would’ve killed my parents all because of something your father said—even after a lifetime of lies?”

I couldn’t believe it. How could he have been so gullible?

“Yes. Of course I would. I loved your parents, Cleo. So damn much. They were so nice to me. Accepted me into their family. But by loving me, they ruined me. My father would never have permitted us to be happy because then I would’ve ruled and never him. Just like he took you from me the second time—he didn’t do it to rape or kill you, even though he had every opportunity. He did it because he could. Because once again he’s shown that he’s better than me.”