Capítulo 2: My Protector (Lola)

(Lola)

The first time Daddy struck me, it had been well deserved. I had broken an unwritten rule in our family, never speak about mum.

Honestly, the blow shouldn’t have surprised me; daddy had frequently been violent toward my older brothers, his crew, and total strangers. I had seen the damage he could cause with my own eyes, had never blamed him for it. Violence was in his nature.

Daddy had once been a high ranking official in the military before mum left us—a man of honour who had grown numb to the brutality And punishment of war.

He’d used those same talents to make a name for himself in the criminal world. It had been an easy way to make money while single-handedly raising three kids.

Yet, I never thought he would hit me. Despite his drinking and violent tendency, we had been close. Sam had hated me for it; he was usually the one on the receiving end of daddy’s rage.

“Is that why she left you? Because of your drinking? Or maybe she had just gotten sick of you picking on everybody,” I demand, the words spilling out of my lips before I could stop them. Then he’d hit me.

Like a crack of lightning, the sound had echoed through the room. I turn my head, pressing my hand to the hot skin, the pain like fire burning through my cheek.

For a long moment, we just stared at each other, even daddy seemed to hold his breath as the bond between us cracked, and tears began to trickle down my face.

“Princess… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Daddy stumbled, trying to reach for me; His breath reeking of liquor. I step out of his reach, my body colliding with a hard chest.

I looked up to find Sam standing behind me, but there was no smile on his lips, no hint of usually mockery or amusement at my expense. No, he just stared our father down, with the fire of a thousand sun’s burning in his pine green eyes, his jaw clenched.

I had forgotten we were not alone. Everyone at the Clubhouse had fallen deathly silent; their attention turned toward us. None of them had ever stood up for me against Sam’s brutality, more extreme than simple sibling rivalry. They would not start now.

Sam, however, didn’t hesitate for a second before curled a protective arm around my shoulders; I couldn’t remember the last time he had touched me without the intent to harm or humiliate me. I hadn’t known how cold I was until I felt his warm skin pressed against my own, the smell of smoke and mist wrapping around me.

“How can you call yourself a man? She’s a sixteen years old girl, for fuck sake!” Sam ridiculed, shaking his head at our father.

I frown, noting the contradiction in his words. When only yesterday, Sam had tossed a bucket of dirt and worms onto my sleeping body.

I wasn’t sure Daddy had even heard him, his gaze never leaving mine. Something about the way Daddy was looking at me made me feel uncomfortable. A growl more animal than man vibrated through Sam’s chest, the sound snapping our father back to reality.

For the first time in my life, I watched my father turned away from a fight. A smirk graced his lips as he knew something the rest of us did not and a promise to Sam that this wasn’t over between them. I watched as daddy stalked away, grabbing a bottle of whisky from the bar on his way out. I swallow hard, my body shaking with fear.

Once he was gone, everyone returned to their conversations, acting as if the last five minutes hadn’t happened. Sam, however, did not realise me like I expected him to. Despite his friends and his flavour of the month watching us closely. The latter giving me the evil eye. I knew they were waiting for Sam to laugh or rub salt into the wound like he usually would. But, hell, so was I.

But Sam only looked to our older brother Callum, who had remained sat at the bar during the whole ordeal, silently watching. When usually, Cal was the only person I could count on to come to my aid, but even he wouldn’t dare interfere with Daddy’s rage. Not even for me.

“Come on,” Sam directed, guiding me toward the kitchen to retrieve an ice pack and bottle of water before pulling me back up the stairs.

I go to open my bedroom door, but Sam’s hand stops me dead as it curls around my waist, causing my breath to catch in my throat.

“My room,” He demands simply, his voice hard, leaving no room for argument. Silently I let my hand drop from the handle, allowing him to guide me into the room across from my own—nervous shooting across my body the entire time.

Once inside, Sam directed me to sit on his leather couch before taking the cap off the water and handing it to me.

At first, I just held it between my shaking hands, my heart hammering in my chest. “Drink,” Sam commands, crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes watching me so intently it was hard to meet his gaze. Reluctantly I press the bottle to my lips and drink deeply.

Sam nods his approval, waiting till I finish before taking the bottle from me and placing it on the coffee table. I watched him carefully, waiting for the inevitable dig, but it never came.

Instead, Sam, crouching down between my legs, too close to be casual. “Sam?” I hesitate, my voice coming out breathless.

“Stay still, little sister,” Sam instructed, his face so carefully blank I wasn’t sure what to expect. Then, he reached out a large tattoo hand, the word ‘Game tattooed across his rough knuckles. Instinctively making me drawback, pressing myself further into the soft leather.

Sam clicks his tongue in irritation, moving too quickly for me to react, and grasps the back of my neck. His grip was not rough but not weak either, just firm enough to keep me from moving. I squeeze my eyes shut, my breaths shallow and uneven. Here it comes.

But Sam’s fingertips only brush against my cheek, gentler than I imagined him capable. I cracked open an eye, watching his pine-green eyes examine the flushed skin.

“It shouldn’t bruise,” Sam declares more to himself than me. I open my mouth to demand why he cared when he had caused far worse injures than a slap to the face.

But before the words could leave my lips, the bedroom door is shoved open, and low and behold; Ace walks in. His icy blue eyes barely even glancing our way as he walked into the room. If he noted how close we sat, he didn’t bother to comment.

It didn’t stop my own eyes from taking in every inch of his body, from his dirty blond hair hidden under a snapback cap. To the way, his skinny jeans hugged his toned thighs.

Sam cleared his throat, pulling my attention back to him, a scowl on his face as he looked between us, causing my cheeks to heat.

Shit, if Sam knew I had a crush on his best friend, he’d never let me hear the end of it, and after how he had acted last time, Ace defended me. I wasn’t sure I could endure it.

But Sam only pressed the ice pack to my face, his tongue darting out over his dry lips. I couldn’t help but track the movement.

A week later, Sam and I had fallen back into our usual routine of hating each other. I wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with how quickly I had forgiven daddy or if he’d just forgotten the whole thing. Either way, I was glad to go back to normal; Sam acting all friendly toward me only made me feel uncomfortable. It was easier to hate him.

My day had started as it always did. I woke up early to a steaming hot shower, spending longer than necessary under the warm water before stepping out. I dressed in my usual black skinny jeans, band T-shirt and tied my long black curls into a messy bun atop my head.

I got to work collecting the dirty washing from everyone’s rooms. I didn’t bother to knock; everyone was still passed out drunk from the night before anyway. So I ignored the sleeping bodies in various stages of undress; most of the men had found a woman to take to bed the night before, including my brothers and Ace. It was nothing I hadn’t already seen; growing up in the Clubhouse had made me numb toward most things. Even if personally I lacked the experience due to Daddy no dating rule.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t interested in the men. I wasn’t blind. But Eagles Wing’s crew were too afraid of getting on the wrong side of Daddy and my brothers to bother approaching me. Even at school, everyone kept a healthy distance from me. Knowing full well who my family were, the Eagle Wing violence and brutality was no secrete; even the cops knew to keep well away.

After cleaning up the mess from the night before, I set about making breakfast. I cooked sausages, mushrooms, bacon, egg, hash browns and beans. Enough to feed a small army.

As soon as I started laying out the food, the smells having wafted through the house, faces began to appear.

“Did I ever tell you how much I love you Low,” Callum, my oldest brother, grins at me, stacking a plate high with food.

“You only say that because I feed you!” I point out, laughing. Once all the food had been laid out, I helped myself to a plate with a glass of orange juice.

“Morning, loser!” Sam greets me with a wink as he purposely shoving past me. Causing the glass of juice to fall into my lap. I let out a squeal as the cold liquid seeps through my clothes. Great.

I cursed at Sam under my breath, leaving my plate untouched on the counter and made my way back up to my room to change into fresh pair of jeans. Before stalking back through the Clubhouse in search of where daddy had passed out from the night before.

I check his room, the bar and a few of the club girls rooms before stalking down to his office, finding him passed out with his face in a stake of papers. The bottle of whisky in his lap empty.

“Daddy, get up,” I urge loudly, poke him in the side. As usual, there was no response. I sign. I grab the air horn I had previously left atop a filing cabinet and quickly move out of the line of fire before pressing the button. BEEP!

The horn sounds so loud it made me cringe. Daddy jumps to his feet, a grunt leaving his lips as he swings his fists around in an attempt to ward off any attacker. The bottle of whisky smashing to the ground.

“It’s just me!” I declare, placing the air horn down on his desk.

“Annnna? Is that you, Sweetheart?” daddy asks, squinting at me, his eyes still glassy from the booze. My heart tightens as I realise he had mistaken me for mum. It was true I was the spitting image of her at my age, from the long dark black curly, olive green eyes down to my petite curvy figure.

“No, it’s just me, daddy,” I correct him with a sad smile. Daddy blinks a couple of times as if not entirely processing my words. He walks over to me, half stumbling a smile tugging at his cracked lips.

“No tricks, I know it’s yoou,” he smirks, his words a drunken slur. Daddy steps into my personal space, his hand reaching to grab my chin. The smell of his stale breath stuffing itself up my nose. I take healthy steps back into the hall, not liking the gleam in his eyes as they rake over my body.

Daddy’s office was on the other side of the Clubhouse to where I had left his men having breakfast. I wasn’t sure anyone would stumble across us if he attacked me.

“I kneew you would come back for me,” He whispers, licking his dry lips.

“Callu-” I call out, fear coating my tongue. But before the words could finish leaving my lips, Daddy pounces. Shoving me back against the wall, his hand coming up to cover my lips.

“Our son will not save you from me this time,” He whispered into my ear, his breath hot against my neck. I tried to scream, to tell him that I was not Anna but their daughter Lola. But no matter how I tried to yell, bite, and struggle in his grip. It was no use. Daddy was far larger and stronger than I was.

Quicker than a man of his age had any right to be.

Before I could stop him, Daddy crushed his lips to mine, his kiss violent and claiming—his bread scrapping against my sensitive skin.

I scrunch up my nose in disgust, attempting to pull away, but daddy’s hand wrapped around my neck, locking me in place. His grip tight enough to make breathing difficult.

I tried to scream, but it was a mistake. As soon as my lips part, Daddy’s tongue wriggling its way into my mouth, attacking mine. The taste of whisky and stale cigarettes filling my mouth. I could barely breathe, my lips swollen and aching from his violent assault. I could only imagine what he would do to the rest of me.

No, I wouldn’t let that happen; suddenly, I knew what to do. I bit down on Daddy’s tongue hard enough to draw blood.

“Bitch!” He grunts, pulling back. I smile victoriously, only to have my head smashed back against the wall hard enough that my vision blurred. I stopped screaming.

He used this to his advantage, and in a few simple manoeuvres, he had managed to rip off my T-shirt and forced my jeans down to my ankles. Leaving me in nothing but my black matching bra and panties.

“Please stop”, I begged, sobbing hard, my body trembling with fear. But Daddy only laughed as if my pleas only aroused him more.

I knew then that my first sexual experience would be with my own father; he would rape me. The realisation sent a wave of ice through my blood. No! No! Not like this!

Daddy spun me around, crushing me between him and the wall. Then, thrusting so I could feel his hard member pressing into my backside.

“Help!” I screamed as loud as I could, my voice cracking. Daddy only shoved my head back into the wall again. A throbbing pain invades my head, making me feel like I will pass out. My vision faded in and out of focus.

I barely noticed as Daddy’s reached down between my legs. My mind drifted into a state of shock that left me numb and cold. I felt his long fat fingers scraping against my inner thigh as he thrust his member against my panties.

One minute his hand was between my legs; the next, it was gone.

I fall against the wall, my knees too weak to keep me upright, causing me to crash to the floor. I groan, rolling onto my side. The smell of copper filled the air. Blood.

I frown, blinking several times. I touched my hand to the back of my head, and sure enough, it came away red and sticky.

“You dare fucking touch her!” Sam growls, pulling my attention away from the pain in my throbbing head.

Dazed, I turn toward the sound of his voice. Confusion clouding my mind. Why was Sam here? Hadn’t I left him in the Clubhouse? I watch in horror as Sam pummels his fist into daddy’s face. Barely recognisable through the blood and broken nose. I blink, unable to comprehend what was happened.

Heavy Footsteps sound, and then Ace was there, pulling my brother off Daddy.

“Stop! you never forgive yourself if you kill him!” Ace commands, his voice deep and filled with anger. He fort against Sam with all his strength to keep him from landing another blow.

“He tried to rape her, Ace! She a fucking virgin,” Sam snarls, managing to break free from his grip to land another blow to our father’s chest. Ace grabs hold of Sam again and pull him off.

“Look at Lola. She needs you right now!” Ace declares. As if he had poured a bucket of cold water over my brother, Sams attention snaps back to me. He curses under his breath as his gaze flickers over me. Half-naked and a crumpled sobbing mess on the floor.

“Get off of me!” Sam growls at Ace, pulling out of his grip to falls to his knees before me, his eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite understand. I whimper as his bloodied hands gently graze over my forehead. If he noticed how exposed I was, he didn’t seem to care.

“Your safe now, I swear it,” Sam assured me, smearing blood onto my face as he attempted to wipe away my tears. He curses under his breath, rubbing his hands onto his jeans, his face turning stony.

Without another word, Sam shrugs off his hoodie and wraps it around me and lifting me into his arms, with more care than I believed him capable and pulling me into his warmth. I sob quietly into his hard chest, my hands curling into the fabric of his t-shirt.

If Sam noticed how I clung to him, he didn’t comment, simply carried me to his room as if I was nothing more than a bunch of clean laundry.

Instead of turning left at the end of the hall into my room, he turns right without comment. Kicking open the door to his room and then placed me on his bed among the rumpled sheets where he had been curled up with his half-naked girl only an hour ago. I was too broken to care, to feel anything beyond the pain in my head.

Sam retreated to his bathroom, the sound of running water running soon following. I blink several times, my body shaking despite the heat. I couldn’t feel the pain in my body, couldn’t think beyond the numbness that had taken hold of me—blocking out everything but the sound of running water.

After a few moments, Sam returned, chest bare and glistening with droplets.

Although it wasn’t the first time I had seen my brother topless, it didn’t stop my eyes from lingering on the eagle inked across his bare chest. Its wings spread, and claws extended as if read to capture its prey. Eagles Wing. A tattoo to show his dedication to the club he’s sworn his life to serving.

Seeing but not processing the toned body before me. Any other day, I would have appreciated his thick arm, chiselled abbs, and V lines that lead down into his jeans even if the body was attached to my enemy and blood relative. The gods could be so crawl.

If Sam noticed my gaze, he revealed nothing, just walked over to his draws and pulled out a fresh T-shirt. The blood had vanished from his tanned skin, and a damp towel clutched in his hand.

Sam’s face was so perfectly blank that I didn’t protest as he gently tugged off the remains of my jeans and dressed me in one of his t-shirts. The fabric falling to my mid-thigh and hanging off me was far too big.

Sam barely even looked at me as he helped me dress, out of respect or lack of interest, I didn’t know. Sam’s actions were strictly platonic. After all, I was his baby sister; he was only doing what he had. I should have felt grateful, it was probably the nicest thing he had ever done for me, but I couldn’t think much of anything.

After I was dressed, Sam set about cleaning and bandaged my wounds, offering me a bottle of water and some pain pills. I took them both gratefully before lying back down on his bed, my eyes closed.

The mattress shifted, and I felt Sam climb into the bed beside me. I should have felt embarrassed or anxious being this close to him, but there was nothing but cold emptiness. Wordlessly Sam pulled me onto his chest, his hand skillfully removing the band from my hair. I couldn’t tell if he was holding me, not out of comfort, but his own need.

Sleep,” He instructs, voice clipped. So I did—my brother’s warmth seeping into me as his hand gently stroked my hair.

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