The Thunder Wolves MC - Sierra (book #11)

2

Two months into the two of us living out in the country, two months of absolute bliss is all I got. Then life changed. Victor changed. I don't really know what happened. It was another wonderful day. Victor had friends over to watch a football game. I wasn't really into football, but I thought I would make myself useful and cook up some snacks for the guys. All his friends seemed to enjoy it. Thanking me when I brought the snacks out and set them on the table. I even brought out new drinks for all the guys, ensuring none of them went without. I thought I was being nice. I even cleaned up the mess the guys made while Victor walked them all out when the game ended.

When Victor walked back into the house, he was a completely different person than the one I knew. Walking up behind me while I worked on washing the dishes, he tangled his fingers in my hair. Pulling my head back at an uncomfortable angle. His body pressed against mine, pinning me to the counter. His other hand gripped my side hard, his fingers digging into the soft flesh there.

"Did you enjoy having my friend's eye f**k you?"

I tried to get out of his hold, but nothing I did worked. He was stronger than I was, and the more I moved, the tighter his grip on my side became.

"Victor, I don't know what you are talking about. You are hurting me."

His grip got tighter in my hair, pulling my head back even further. His other hand left my side for only a moment before he slammed his fist back into my side. At the pain in my side and head, I began to cry. Tears flowed down my face. A sob escaped my lips.

"You know exactly what I am talking about, slut. Shaking your ass around the house, enjoying the looks my friends gave you while flirting with them right in front of me. A couple of the guys even asked if I would share you with them. Maybe I should have said yes. Would you have liked that? Hmm, slut. Maybe next time, I will say yes and watch as they have their way with you. Would you like that?"

I did my best to shake my head. But it was no use. Nor do I think it mattered. He didn't wait for an answer as he pulled me away from the counter by my hair. My whole body lost its balance as he did so. He made it two feet before I hit the floor. His hand was still in my hair. He tried pulling me back up to my feet. Only growing angrier when I couldn't get them back under me. Letting go of my hair, he leaned over me. His fists hit me several times. Landing blows wherever they landed as I tried to move out of the way until finally, he grabbed me again. This time, he pulled me back up to my feet long enough to bend me over the kitchen table. He again held my head to the table with one hand tangled in my hair. The other hand, he used to pull at my clothes. Lifting the skirt of my dress and shoving my thong to the side. The sound of his zipper was my only warning before he pushed himself into me. I tried to fight him still, but the more I moved to get away, the more he thought I was enjoying it.

"f**k baby, that's it. f**k if I knew you liked it rough, I would have done this ages ago. Or maybe it's the thought of having other guys inside you? Hmm? Is that it? Let them ride you just like this?"

The more I fought and the more he said, it was like it turned him on more. And then came his fist to my side as he pulled my head back, making me scream.

"That's it, you dirty little slut. Scream louder."

His fist connected with my side again and again. His thrusts came harder and faster. Until finally, everything stopped. His hand gripped my side where he had been punching me. His fingers digging into my skin made me scream louder in pain. And then one final thrust, and he stilled inside me. Leaning over me, he moaned in my ear.

"That's it, baby, milk me. I knew you were enjoying it."

His fingers loosened their grip on my hair, allowing me to lean forward onto the table. Sobbing, I was left confused as my body responded to everything. As he released inside me, my core pulsed from my own orgasm. I didn't think I had enjoyed any of this. But something in me must have liked it, right? If it didn't, I wouldn't have had an orgasm, right? Victor said I enjoyed it. He has never lied to me when it comes to things like this. He knew more than I did when it came to s*x. He must know. So I must have enjoyed it.

That day was a day that will forever be embedded in my mind. That day was the start of my hell. It was the start of what I would come to know as my life. Now, some may say, girl, you should have left. But where would I have gone? I was a high school dropout with no job experience, no life experience if I was being honest, and no reason not to believe the man I loved when he apologized later and said he loved me and didn't mean to hurt me. I didn't think my parents loved me and would ever in a million years allow me to return home. So, I would come to find even though I was scared to death of Victor, I knew no matter what was happening. Who he had over to the house and allowed to do what they wanted with me. Victor was always there to make everything better again. He made sure I stayed in line. He kept me safe. All he asked was I do what I was told, no questions asked. And as the years went on, the fewer beatings there were. Sure, he still had to "remind me" every now and again he was still in charge. It didn't matter if I had stepped out of line or not. He said he did it because he loved me. But even those reminders grew less and less. Especially after he made new friends and his old ones stopped coming around. His new friends, he never brought around. But he warned me they were a lot rougher guys than the friends of his I had met before. And I believed him. I had no reason not to.

I mean, there could be no nice guys that were members of a motorcycle club, could there? I did a search one day while Victor was out, and everything I found online was bad. There were many news articles about motorcycle guys charged with rape, assault, murder, kidnapping, and so much more. There was a story about one biker from a group in another state that claimed a girl as his and pimped her out until he got tired of her and killed her. Then, he moved on to another girl, doing the same with her. He did this for years, going through a dozen or so girls before he was finally arrested and charged.

So when Victor started going by Vex, riding a motorcycle, and wearing the club's cut, I believed him. I ensured I was extra good, so he didn't bring any of those guys around. I was happy with it being just Victor and me anyway. So long as I did everything he had taught me to do over the years, I was good. I only had to endure a beating a month if I was lucky. However, I wasn't always so lucky. Victor found it frustrating that he was older than the guys typically were when they joined the club. He said he thought some of the guys looked down on him for being in his thirties when he finally decided to join the club. This frustration Victor took out on me, and I had to find ways to try and make him feel better. None of them worked, of course. The only thing that ever made him feel better was when I was covered in what he called his love marks. And he had his way with my body until he was worn out and tired.

It was my life and the only kind of life I thought I would ever have. It was what I knew. I didn't know any other way. I had long accepted my life, and one day, my life would end by Victor's hands. So when Victor disappeared, and the last I heard was he was helping his brother get his girlfriend back, I don't really know what came over me. I tried searching for him. I tried calling his phone. The only thing I found was nothingness. The only thing I was left with was the girl his brother, and he had been trying to get worked at a bar in town. There was only one bar in town, and it was easy to find. Only the place wasn't open, or at least no one answered the doors when I finally got up enough courage to go there looking for him. He had to be inside the building, though. There was nowhere else he could be. Climbing back into Victor's truck, I circled to the back of the parking lot, turned the truck around to face the building, and slammed on the gas. The truck jerked forward, sped across the parking lot, and slammed into the side of the building.

I don't remember the truck hitting the side of the building. I remember trying to hit the brakes at the last second with my eyes closed. I can only guess the impact caused me to pass out because the next thing I remember is the sounds of sirens. Flashing lights coming from behind me. Water was sprayed everywhere as smoke filled the inside of the truck. Among all this, someone told me to keep still and that they would have me out of the truck shortly. All while pain radiated through my whole body. Though, the pain was nothing I hadn't felt before. I knew pain all too well and was used to it.

I remember short time lapses of being pulled from the truck, but not all of it. I don't remember actually being removed from the truck and loaded into the ambulance. No, I was in the truck one minute, and the next, I was at the hospital. A cop was there, ready to ask me questions, when I woke up. Questions I was expecting to have to answer. Things like my name and why I did what I did, that kind of thing. I did my best to answer the questions for the cop by giving him my name and telling him I did what I did in search of my husband. He had to be in the bar. There was nowhere else he could be. That was the last place I knew he was going, and he never came home. He always came back home eventually.

The only problem was the cop said Victor wasn't in the bar, and the MC guys told his partner that Victor left. He quit the club and left town. But that couldn't be. He would never leave me. I was his wife, and he would have taken me with him. I refused to believe he was gone. There was nowhere he would have gone without taking me. I refused to believe otherwise, growing increasingly agitated as the cop tried to convince me this was the truth of things. This cop didn't know; something happened to my Victor, and I needed to find him. The only problem was when I tried to leave, I was forced back into my hospital room. Eventually, I was even restrained to the bed and given a couple of shots to try and calm me down. Except I didn't want anything to calm me down. I wanted someone to believe me that something terrible had happened to my husband, and they needed to find him.

In the end, it took a couple more doses of medication, and one of the cops showing me pictures of the damaged bar. Only then did I finally believe them when they said Victor was not inside the bar. He was nowhere. There was nowhere else to look. They were not lying when they said he was gone. He had left me behind. I was alone. A realization you would think, after everything he has put me through, I would be happy about. But I wasn't. I was terrified. What would happen to me now that he was gone? Would he be back? And if he was what would happen when he returned?

I didn't know much, but I did know that if Victor returned and found me here in the hospital, he would be pissed off, not to mention his rage when he finds out what I did to his truck. I wouldn't be on the receiving end of just one of his beatings. No, it would be much worse. The one time I took myself in to be seen by a doctor, Victor was so mad at me that he chained me in the basement for weeks, with no food or water for the first two days. Then, the rest of the time, I was given bread once a day and a bottle of water in the morning that had to last for the whole day. The closest I came to a shower was him bringing the hose in through the window from outside and spraying me with the cold water once a day. After which, he would then be down either by himself or with one or more of his friends. Either way, the result would be nearly the same. They would do what they wanted, and I would end up having another bruise or two. Maybe even a broken bone that I wouldn't be allowed to go and have looked at.