Fuse's Hold E.C. Land (manga ereader .txt) 📖

this in my fuckin’ life. That’s saying something even for me. I’ve been to war, seen my brothers blown up. Seen enough shit to leave me with nightmares for years to come. I’ll never forget the horrors those men went through alongside me.

Soon as Lyrica spoke her words, she’d passed out once again. Mountain and my brothers, who went to the location we’d heard about, found her lying beaten and bloody. It’d taken us nearly a month to find her after the national Prez called about different locations she could be in in our area.

Soon as they got here, I took over. They’d had to call me back from a run I’d been on for the club in order to help her. There’s no fuckin’ way Mountain would trust an outsider, let alone one of the strays, to clean her up or address the wounds.

I wouldn’t either. Not when it comes to one of the brothers ol’ ladies. Fuse is also a damn good friend of mine and this shit is fucked.

Doing the best I can, I finish cleaning Lyrica of dirt, grime, and blood. She was taken nearly six months ago. The trauma I’m sure this woman has been through is excruciating to think of.

Finishing up with what all I’m able to help her with, I leave her in peace and step out into the hall. I make sure Kraken, one of our members, is standing near her door. Mountain ordered she have a guard on her at all times until we got a hold of Fuse.

I had to agree with him on this. She’s delicate and needs a protector. I’m not sure why but she does. I didn’t even see her eyes due to them being swollen shut and yet still felt the torment coming through them.

Stalking through the clubhouse, I make my way to my Prez’s office. I knock and wait for him to yell out. We’ve all learned to hold off on entering his office without him calling out first. More than once, we’ve walked in on him with a stray between his legs or on his desk. Not that any of us give a fuck, but sometimes it’s best to give a man privacy.

Especially him.

“She okay?” he asks the moment I step inside and close the door. Scanning the room, I find not only my Prez but VP, Quake, and Screamer.

“Not good, Prez, not good. She woke up for a brief moment and at that moment thought we were them trying to fuck with her head. I don’t know what all shit they pulled on her, but it’s completely fucked. The woman is ready to die because of all that she’s been through,” I say, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Yeah, she’d wanted us to leave her there to die. I’ve gotta call Chains and let him know. I think we need to get her ready to move. She’s not gonna be able to straighten her head until she’s home with them,” Mountain mutters.

“You’re right. She won’t. That woman doesn’t have a leg to hold on to until she’s home with her ol’ man. Might want to warn them though she’s not in good shape. We take her home. They need to understand she’s been hurt severely. Broken wrist, leg, and definitely from the coloring, her ribs. And that’s without taking her to the hospital. I’ve braced her wrist and leg for the time being, but we’ll have to get her to the hospital at some point,” I mutter.

“Pitch Black’s ol’ lady is a doctor down there. We get her to them. She’ll be able to help her,” Stinger, my VP, announces.

“Then let’s get her ready to go. We head out in an hour. The sooner we get our asses on the road, the sooner we get to Louisiana,” Prez declares as he leans forward on his desk and lifts his phone up to make the call need in order to help this woman who belongs to one of out brothers..

All of us start for the door as he puts the phone to his ear and says, “Chains, we found her.”

Chapter Three

Fuse

This past month since Chains sent the Montana charter out looking in their area for Lyrica, I’ve been to the fights nearly every night. If I don’t, I’m out of my mind thinking of Lyrica and about not being able to get to her.

Each night that I pass out due to sheer exhaustion, I’m haunted by visions of her. Chains needed me to look into this Nixon fucker some more. I know this is his way of getting my focus on other shit going on with the club. He’s still a variable we don’t know much about. Or he was until I did a facial recognition on him with a program connecting him to several organizations. A man like him has multiple pots he’s sticking his hand in for the honey. However, there’s one that stands out more than others. This led me to finding out he’s the trainer of the girls, he buys and sells them to men and women, whoever the highest bidder is at the end of the day.

Shaking my head, I let out a harsh breath while punching the bag once more. Patton had informed Pitch Black and me there weren’t any fights tonight due to other shit he’s got going on. So I moved to the gym here at the clubhouse and commenced wearing myself out.

Giving the punching bag a combo of hits, I don’t pay attention to the door to the gym opening. My vision starts swirling with images, as they always do, of Lyrica as I punch. She’s never out of my head, no matter what I do. I simply readjust my focus when I’m in the ring. Not having an opponent to go up against doesn’t give me that. So there she is.

Her smile. The pain when she sees me with other women. The feel of her pressed