Wolf (Devil's Fury MC 9), Harley Wylde [intellectual books to read TXT] 📗

whore? That’s what they thought? I wanted to scan my clothes, thinking maybe I’d dressed wrong. No. Jeans and a heather gray tee. Nothing overtly sexy about what I had on. In fact, my shirt was even on the loose side.

Anger sparked inside me. Emmie had explained what the club whores were, and how these men didn’t respect them, not even a little. They used them and tossed them aside. And this asshole thought I was a club whore?

I jabbed a finger in Demon’s direction and snarled. “I’m not a fucking club whore. You try to put your dick anywhere near me, I’ll rip it off.”

Badger sat and leaned back in his chair, apparently settling for the show. I hoped like hell there wouldn’t be one. I’d been warned not to let these men push me around and at the same time, I had to act respectful. It was a fine line, and I hoped I didn’t cross it. Even though being around men still scared the crap out of me at times, I didn’t want them to think I was too soft. They needed to know I could handle myself in this world. If I couldn’t prove myself to them, I could be asked to leave.

Demon stared down his nose at me.

“First off, I have a woman so I wouldn’t want my dick anywhere near you. Second, you point at me again, and I’ll --”

Badger cleared his throat and shook his head, giving Demon a look that clearly said shut up. The Sergeant-at-Arms clamped his lips shut and glared at me. I folded my arms and stared back, faking way more bravery than I actually had. I hoped no one noticed I was shaking.

“Introduce Glory, Tank,” someone else said.

“Glory has a four-year degree in biology and was accepted into medical school. She only attended for one semester before she had to quit and stay home,” Tank said.

“Why did you have to quit?” another man asked. Blades was stitched on his cut.

“Fuck that. She doesn’t even look old enough to be out of high school.” The man partway down the table leaned forward, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips. “No offense.”

I looked up at Tank, knowing this was the moment he’d mentioned. The time I’d knew I needed to speak. They needed to hear my story, understand why I was here and why I needed to help in any way I could. I faced the table of men.

“I graduated high school when I was fourteen, then finished my four-year degree in three years. I was seventeen when I was accepted into medical school. The reason I dropped out is personal, but considering why I’m here, I’ll share it with you. I was walking across campus one night when two guys dragged me off into the bushes. They hit me several times, nearly knocking me out, then took turns raping me.”

I scanned the room, stopping on each brother for a few seconds before moving on to the next. I dared for one single man to utter anything about me deserving it, or any other bullshit I’d already heard a million times since the incident. Several gazed back at me with sympathy. Others looked furious, but I didn’t think it was at me. No, I thought they wanted to track down the two men who’d hurt me, and if I had names for them, I’d gladly let them do their worst. I doubted I was their first, or their last, victim.

“I have a daughter as a consequence of that night. No one found me for thirty-six hours, and by the time I was treated, it was too late for the morning-after pill to be as effective. They treated me for STDs and sent me on my way.” I took a breath and my fingers clenched and unclenched at my sides. “My parents threw me out when I refused to have an abortion. Sienna, my daughter, is developmentally delayed but she’s an angel. No matter how she was conceived, I’m lucky to be her mom.”

“You dropped out to take care of your kid or because you were scared to be on campus?” another man asked. I checked for a name, needing to make sure I could recognize these men later. Ripper.

“A little of both,” I admitted. “I’m eighteen, in case anyone wondered. Almost nineteen. Tank heard about your project to help rape victims and thought of me. We met at the OB-GYN when I was there for a check-up during my pregnancy, and I spilled my story to his wife.”

The VP, Slash, narrowed his gaze at Tank. “Anything I need to know, brother?”

Tank shook his head. “Got a vasectomy when the girls were about two years old. Those three are more than enough. We were just there for a routine thing. Emmie didn’t want to go alone.”

“You want to help as what? Medical staff?” Badger asked me.

“After having been the victim of two rapists, I can understand where these women are emotionally and mentally,” I said. “I have enough training to help with the basics, but you’d still need a licensed doctor or nurse practitioner. I’m CPR certified, and I’ve been taking some online nursing classes. I just haven’t been able to do the hands-on part because of Sienna.”

“She’ll need a place to stay,” Tank said. “Any objections to letting her use one of the apartments?”

“They only have one bedroom,” Ripper said. “She needs more space if she has a daughter.”

I wanted to smile. These men had no idea the conditions I’d been dealing with since finding out I was pregnant. A one bedroom behind a fence? Seemed more like paradise to me. Having two bedrooms was a luxury, and not one I necessarily needed. As long as I had a roof over our heads, could keep Sienna cool in the summer or warm in the winter, and keep us both fed nothing else mattered.

“Sienna isn’t quite a year old,” I said. “She’s small enough we can easily share a room.