That’s the anything

Alina

Stepping over the threshold was like walking into the belly of a beast.

It was a massive, warehouse-style space. A long wooden bar stretched across one side, crowded with huge men wearing leather vests patched with the Hellhounds logo.

But it wasn't the men that made my stomach turn. It was what was happening right out in the open.

In the center of the room, a woman in a tiny skirt was bent over a pool table. A man was pressed tightly behind her, his hands gripping her hips. Other men stood around them, drinking from beer bottles, cheering and laughing.

No one looked away. No one hid it.

In the corner, another woman was sitting on a man’s lap, openly kissing him while his hands roamed freely over her bare chest.

There was no shame. No closed doors.

I took a step back, my back hitting the cold metal of the door. My breath came in short, panicked gasps.

What have I done?

I had never felt more like prey in my entire life.

Gabriel didn’t stop to check if I was following. He walked through the crowded room with a dark, commanding presence.

The sea of violent, rowdy men instantly parted for him.

Nods of respect were thrown his way.

A few women trailed their eyes over his massive frame with hungry, obvious desire but no one dared to step into his path.

Then a woman stepped into his path. She had bleached blonde hair, heavy dark makeup, and wore nothing but a lace bra and torn jeans.

"Cerb…" she purred, tracing a finger down his leather chest. She pressed her body against him. "You have been gone all night. I saved a spot for you in the back."

Why was she calling him Cerb? Was it something like a nickname?

Gabriel didn't seem impressed. He didn't even look at her face. He caught her wrist and removed her hand from his jacket. "Not tonight, Roxy."

Roxy pouted, finally turning her sharp eyes to me. She looked at my messy hair, my expensive but ruined coat, and the blood on my hands. She let out a mocking laugh. “Who’s this bitch, Cerb?”

Gabriel didn't answer.

He walked straight to a long, scratched wooden bar at the back of the room. He turned, his dark eyes locking onto me across the sea of leather and smoke. He pointed a single, heavily ringed finger at an empty bar stool.

Sit.

The command was silent but obvious.

I kept my head down, dodging a stumbling biker, the girl named Roxy and hurried over to the stool.

The leather seat was cracked and sticky but my legs were shaking too hard to hold me up any longer.

The bartender, a massive man with a thick gray beard and a scar splitting his left eyebrow, took one look at Gabriel and slid a bottle of whiskey across the counter. No glass.

Gabriel grabbed the bottle. He turned to me and looked down at my raw, bleeding hands.

Before I could ask what he was doing, he grabbed my wrists in a vice grip and poured the harsh alcohol directly over my open wounds.

I gasped, my spine arching as the sharp, burning pain flared up in my arms.

I tried to yank my hands away, but he didn't budge. He held me still, letting the whiskey wash away the dirt and gravel from the road.

He threw a dirty gray rag onto the bar counter. "Wipe them."

I grabbed the rag with trembling fingers and pressed it against my palms, biting my lip to keep from crying out.

Gabriel leaned his back against the bar, crossing his arms over his chest. He watched me for a long, silent moment. His gaze felt heavy, stripping away all my defenses until there was nowhere to hide.

"The golden boy…" Gabriel’s voice was a low, rough rumble that barely carried over the loud music. “Did he cheat?”

I froze.

The memory of Liam’s cruel laughter and Amily’s innocent, mocking face flashed in my mind. The humiliation I had swallowed for three years rose in my throat, choking me.

I didn't trust my voice. So, I just nodded.

Gabriel’s jaw tightened. A dark, dangerous shadow crossed his face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"At the gate…" he said softly, the danger in his tone making my breath hitch. "You begged me. You said you would do anything."

"I..." I swallowed hard, staring at the skull ring on his finger. "I meant it. Just don't take me back to him."

A dark glint of satisfaction flashed in his eyes. He slowly lifted his hand and pointed toward the center of the chaotic room.

I followed his finger.

Through the haze of cigarette smoke, bathed in harsh red neon light, was a raised wooden stage.

Two steel poles stretched from the floor to the ceiling. A woman wearing nothing but a tiny black thong and leather boots was dancing, twisting around the metal while bikers cheered and threw crumpled dollar bills at her feet.

My heart completely stopped. I gripped the dirty rag tighter. "What do you want me to do?"

"You said anything…" Gabriel reminded me. His rough voice brushed against my ear, making a shiver run down my spine. "That’s the anything you gotta do.”