Sniper | Fallen Angels MC #3

Chapter 9

Hello all! So excited to be publishing more chapters of Sniper. I love falling in love with every character in this series one by one! I hope you guys are too.

TW: Mentions of domestic violence and abuse.

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"Has that dick done things like this before?"

"It's never been that physical before," Beatrice muttered. She scooted down the bed after every question.

"Why don't we stop for today, hm? I'm late to make the run to your dad's store," I said quietly. Her gaze snapped up to meet mine. "I really don't want to go."

"No, you have to go!" Her voice raised and she slid until her back hit the headboard. She flinched slightly and wrapped her hands around her stomach.

"Why do I have to go? If he's there—"

"If you don't show up, he'll come here looking for me," Beatrice begged. She pulled the covers up until they were just below her neck.

"I'll send someone else. Shouldn't you tell your dad?" I fought the urge to tuck a few strands of hair away from her face and just squeezed her hand tighter.

"He loves Trevor, and he was the one to set us up, too. He'll be upset with me," she whispered. I stopped fighting myself and gripped her waist to move her closer to me.

"You think he'll care more about that douchebag than you? Bee," I sighed and practically pulled her on top of me, "that's not possible."

"I'm just scared. I don't want to see him ever again," she whispered. We sat in silence for a few moments, my hand rubbing her back as softly as I could, and I tried my best to ignore her breath hitting my neck.

"I'm sorry," she suddenly apologized. She wouldn't look at me.

"For what?"

"Not saying yes to you all those times you asked me out. I did want to say yes, but I was with Trevor—I didn't understand how I could have those feelings if I was with Trevor. Now I know. I don't want to go back," she whispered.

"Know what?" I pushed. I felt like I already knew the answer.

"I'm hungry," she smiled and pushed the covers off of her. Beatrice stood with a new energy and bustled out of the room before I could stop her.

"Beatrice!" I shouted and pounded down the stairs. It was too late. She stood frozen at the bottom of the stairs and looked at the suddenly quiet building of bikers.

I could hear her heavy breathing and knew she wasn't ready to be in an environment like this.

"Let's go back upstairs," I whispered and scooped her up before she could say anything else. Downstairs remained quiet until I shut the bedroom door, but Beatrice was shaking on my bead—I had more important things to worry about.

"You alright?" I asked. Her hands were shaking again.

"Yeah, yeah," Beatrice assured. "I had no idea how many there were."

"We have a lot of men. You weren't ready for it," I agreed. Her shaking stopped and she stood again.

"I want to try again," Beatrice harrumphed. Once again, I was too slow to stop her, but I was able to catch up to her before she went down the stairs.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked. She hadn't stopped moving.

"Positive," she answered. "You should use your crutches, you know?"

"I'm not using those damn things. I'm perfectly fine," I scowled. She chuckled a little before her walking sped up. The men, having just watched her go through a breakdown, fell silent again as we hit the bottom of the stairs.

"Mind your own fuckin' business," I said loudly. Everyone turned back to what they were doing and the sound resumed at a quieter level. "What do you want to eat?"

"Anything is fine," she whispered. I moved from the living room to the kitchen, hoping she would follow, and was greeted with Pres and Maya giggling to each other, seated on stools near the island.

"Hey," Pres cleared his throat. Beatrice stood in the doorway, her hand drifting to the bruises on her neck. Maya smiled tentatively.

"Here, women run the house," she whispered as she got closer to Beatrice. I turned my back on them, and Pres came over to me, trying not to intrude on their loud, but private conversation.

"It's—It's not that. I hate people seeing these more than I hate the pain," Beatrice whispered. I clenched the head of lettuce so hard it squelched in my hand and dropped to the floor. Pres bit his lip and helped me clean the pieces off of the floor.

Why the hell would that motherfucker touch her? I wanted to wrap my hands around his throat just like he had hers, except I wouldn't let go. Christ! How the hell had she gotten away?

"Hey, uh...sorry," Comp interrupted. He stood in the doorway, clutching his laptop, a blush covering his cheeks. I rolled my eyes and glanced at Beatrice.

"I'll be back in a minute. Maya, will you hang around?" I asked.

"Where are you going?" Beatrice looked at me with worried eyes. I nodded my head to her, signaling that everything would work out fine, and followed Comp into his lair.

"What do you have for me?"

"Trevor Wilson, thirty-four years old. Advisor to Senator Whitmore," Comp sighed. "Pres said it's a no-go."

"Son of a bitch!" I scoffed and ran my finger over my bottom lip. What the hell was I supposed to do now? What was Beatrice supposed to do? "Thanks." Comp nodded and I left, leaving him to play his computer games so I could go back to Beatrice.

I didn't know what I was going to say. Pres was somewhere else, probably knowing Comp was going to break the news to me, when I arrived back into the kitchen. Beatrice was sitting at the island with Maya and I grinned at the sight of her bright smile.

"Hey," I said gently so I didn't spook her. She turned slowly before whispering something to Maya.

"I'm going to stay with her for a bit," Beatrice smiled.

"Okay," I smirked. "But we're talking later, okay?"

"Deal," she said and turned back to Maya. As I turned around, the adrenaline began to wear off and the pain from my thigh began to catch up to me.

"Hey," I stopped Rooster on his way to the gate. "I'm going to lay down if anyone needs me."

"You're good, man. You just got back from a run, you're off for a while," Rooster murmured. He patted me on the back and jogged out the front door. So much had happened in a short period of time...

I just wanted to take a damn nap.

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I don't mean to say, in this chapter and upcoming chapters, that abuse should be taken lightly. Everyone goes through situations like this differently. Everyone lives with trauma differently. Please check on your friends and family regularly ❤️.