Twisted Scars (Comanche Sons Motorcycle Club Book 1) by Sophia Hampton Page A

flooded in from the corridor, and the two men were illuminated. “Help! Help!” she screamed, hoping that someone would come in. “Help.”
     
    Riley ran over to the men and picked up the knife that she saw on the floor. Holding it, she hovered around the men. If she got an opportunity, she would stab the attacker without a moment of hesitation, but Chance and the attacker were so entwined that she was scared of hurting the wrong man. Suddenly, Chance pushed the guy. She swiped at him as he stumbled past her, but the man ran for the door. She gave chase and was followed by Chance, but the attacker clambered down the stairs, and they lost him as they reached the ground floor. He disappeared into the deep night.
     
    “Shit!” she cursed. “Fuck!”
     
    “Who? What?” Chance paused to take deep breaths. “You’re bleeding.”
     
    She touched her forehead with the hand that was holding the knife. Blood stuck to her fingers. “It’s not so bad.”
     
    “God damn it! What the fuck was that?”
     
    She turned to face him. A ghost of a smile played on her lips. “Believe it or not, that was my older brother.”
     
    His mouth gaped. If it wasn’t so serious, she might’ve laughed at his incredulous expression. “He? What?”
     
    She didn’t have another option. He was too involved. It was time to tell it all. Yet, she was reluctant to do so. “It’s a long story.”
     
    “I’ve got all the time in the world to hear it, love.”
     
    She nodded. When this moment came, she thought that she might not be able to react well, but she realized that she was quite in control of her senses. “We have to call the police, I suppose. Come on, let’s go upstairs.”
     
    After they went up, she called the police and explained the situation. Then, she put down the knife on the counter, keeping her gaze away from its serrated edge that gleamed with malevolence. She took out the first aid kit. “Here, let me,” said Chance.
     
    Expertly, he wiped her wound and dabbed it with ointment. “You hit your head on the floor?”
     
    “On the overturned chair, I think.” Everything happened so fast that it was hard to recall every detail. Yes, the man tried to kill her. Yes, she knew him. And yes, she had expected something like this to happen for a long time. Wherever she went, he found her. She was the only reason for his existence, his purpose in life, and no matter what she did he would hound her until he managed to kill her.
     
    “Talk, love.” There was a hard note in his voice, as if he wouldn’t rest until she told him the entire, unvarnished truth.
     
    Riley didn’t want to keep it inside anymore. She owed a lot to Chance. He’d tackled the man rather than running away. If he wasn’t around, she would’ve died. Her brother would have found the knife and plunged it inside her. She lived today because Chance didn’t open that door and leave. Instead, he stayed and fought with her. What more did a man need to do before he heard why he risked his life?
     
    “My brother’s two years older than me. We grew up together in a place that was our house of horror. My father was a construction worker, a mean son of a bitch who took out his tension and relieved his stress by beating the shit out of his wife. My mother was weak. We begged her to leave, but she never wanted to. When my brother was five, my father hit him for the first time.”
     
    “Oh my God!”
     
    “Even God didn’t come to our rescue.” Her voice was dry. “We prayed for him to die or for our mother to grow a backbone but nothing like that happened. She took the beatings, and she watched him beat her son. When I was older, I was also beaten like the rest. Anything could spoil his temper. We walked too fast or too slow. We came in too late for dinner or too early. We talked too loud or too slow. He didn’t need a reason, all he needed was an excuse.”
     
    He put a bandage on her forehand. “How long did it go on?”
     
    “My brother