Zero and Beauty's Breath (A Satan Sniper's Motorcycle Club Series Book 3 - 4) novel Chapter 45

Today will be different, today I will look at the woman whose life is changed because of me.

I will see the damage I have caused, knowing that there is nothing I could do to make it go away.

There is no remedy to the past. Once it is done, it is written and sealed in blood, memory and time.

My cousin, Marco said, that the past is that which has happened. No matter how we look back on it, those moments, memories will be an unaltered occurrence, so we best just learn, observe and move on.

I scan the room.

The thick rumpled grey and white duvet, a reminder of my late night.

Fluffy pillows discarded to the floor, in my haste to run to the bathroom.

Empty containers of pudding that filled my stomach just a few hours ago sit in a line on the black wooden bedside table.

All of this a daily occurrence since the three of us have left Kanla.

The man standing shirtless, imposing as the day I first snuck a glance at him from underneath my hood, watches me from across our bedroom we have shared as a couple should.

Every day I remind myself, this life is temporary.

This man who has not touched me like a lover should, yet still breathes life into me is part of that temporary.

I admit it gets harder.

Zero is the biggest challenge I have yet to overcome.

Nothing good has ever lasted long enough to consider it a routine before now, especially not a man.

In the end he will be no different.

There are nights my body sweats and my hands shake as shivers rake up my back at just the thought of going back on the streets. Those nights show me that I have become weak.

Those nights I get this urge to hold Zero, to wrap my arms around his muscular back and dig my fingers into his torso just to remind myself that this is real.

I really did wake up on a soft bed, ate a hot meal and drank a warm drink while the Enforcer of a motorcycle club sat next to me.

Even these clothes on my back are mine, not hand me downs or stuff that was stolen. But as much as I want to hold my man, I don't.

Life on the streets will always be there. My past always the darkened taint to my present, reminding me of who I am.

No matter how comfortable I feel in this moment I have now, there are some things that are set in stone.

Relying on a man to comfort me is one of those things.

Unfortunately, my husband, Lucca is a big part of the reason why a man’s arms is not something I will ever need to warm my chills. No matter how much I crave it

And as I sit here looking at the Enforcer of one of the deadliest Motorcycle Clubs in the U.S, I don't need to seek him out to know that something is up.

I can smell it every time he steps into a room.

This Zero is not the man I met almost a year ago.

He is different since leaving Kanla. The man in front of me is not the Zero I know.

I get a weird feeling that his thoughts are playing a deadly game of Russian roulette on his mind.

On the streets I learned from a young age that there is never mistaking caution for paranoia.

Those two feelings can be the single thread that separates you from the living and the dead. As sad as it sounds, it wasn't until I met my father, and he held a gun to my head that I figured that out.

I was twelve, still learning the rules of survival, still hoping.

I snort at the thought of how stupid and naïve I was at one stage.

Killer enters the bedroom and I watch the devil as he grabs the charger next to the bed in silence, at ease, leaving Zero and I alone again.

Killer has noticed Zero’s behaviour too.