Perceive by K E Osborn

 

 

KENZI

THE NEXT DAY

 

Hell.

I’m in hell.

Where is Hendrix?

Why hasn’t he come to get me yet?

I lay with my head against the cold table, curling my arms around it and letting the cool surface soothe my hot, clammy skin. Whatever the fuck they put in me yesterday is taking its time to wear off.

“You need to drink some more water.”

I ignore the big Hulk crossed with The Rock looking bastard who’s been standing in the corner of the tiny room for the past thirty minutes, watching me. He’s tall, bald, and it looks like if he flexed a little too hard, his bicep might hit me in the face like something out of a Saturday morning cartoon.

“I’m fine,” I mumble, closing my eyes, trying to get my tense muscles to relax. My heart, though, it won’t agree. It’s beating twice as hard as it should be. I’m not sure if it is a weird side effect of whatever shit they put in me, or if it’s just preparing me for the moment Axel Cruise steps inside this room.

I tried being a callous bitch.

Tried to piss him and his friends off.

But all it got me was a sedative and a tiny white room that is a sickening assault on my senses. But then, maybe that is on purpose.

“Drink some water,” the hulking man tries again, this time picking up the plastic bottle and shuffling it a little closer to me. “Noah said you need to flush the shit out of your system.”

“Noah can suck my ass.”

“I’ll make sure he knows the offer is there,” the Hulk responds without a pause. “Now drink the fucking water.” I can’t help it, I lift my face from the table and slouch back into the chair. I try to glare at the big bastard, but it’s hurting my neck to look up at the mountain of a man who strangely reminds me of Maui from that Disney movie.

I snatch the bottle off the table, cracking the lid open and taking a sip. “Happy?”

“You always such a bitch or am I just special?”

As I tip the bottle up again, I hide a small smile, this time swallowing more water that my body is suddenly craving.

Maybe he’s right.

Dammit.

“What am I doing here?” I ask, screwing the lid back on the bottle. Here? It’s a broad term because I have no idea where here actually is. Or who these people are. Or why I’m stuck in this tiny white room with the demigod over there.

“We’re waiting.”

“For what?”

He scoffs, leaning back against the wall, folding his arms across his massive chest. The smug look on his face stirs my stomach. “Not for what,” he corrects, just as there’s a sharp, hard knock at the door. “For who.”

I sit a little straighter, placing my palms flat on the table as if trying to brace myself. My body instantly knows—it knows who is going to walk through the door, and it isn’t fucking prepared.

“Come in,” the Hulk calls out, stepping out of the way so the door can open. A couple of clicks and a loud beep sounds before the handle turns and the door slowly swings open.

His eyes catch me first, twisting my gut just that little bit further, turning it from an uncomfortable moment to painful. He steps completely inside, and my giant guard taps him on the back as he steps out, pulling the door closed behind him with a click.

Determined not to let him see me weak, I hold my tongue, despite the way I suddenly find it hard to breathe.

“How you feeling?” Axel asks, that scratchy low tone to his voice sending a shiver up my spine and quickly coating my entire body in goosebumps. I try not to shudder but know from the way his eyes widen just slightly, there’s no hiding fucking anything from him.

“I feel like I’ve been kidnapped and locked in a small room.”

“I mean from the sedative.”

“Oh yeah sorry, drugged, then kidnapped and locked in a small room,” I spit back, huffing loudly and shaking my head. “I’m feeling a little hot, I want to puke, and my head weighs a hundred pounds.”

He pulls a phone from his back pocket and types quickly, before tucking it away again. “I’ll get Noah to bring you some painkillers when we’re done.”

“Who is this Noah and why is he telling me I need to drink water and bringing me medication?”

“He’s our resident specialist in… everything.”

“So, he’s a know-it-all,” I conclude with a raised brow.

Axel smirks, shrugging, as he reaches for the chair opposite me and pulls it out. “I guess you could say that.” He takes a seat and leans back, those blue ocean-colored orbs capturing me for a moment, not allowing me to pull away. There’s something about them that’s calming and soothing, like watching the smooth water on a lake. “This is much more the Mackenzi I know.”

I jerk my head back. “Mackenzi isn’t my name.”

“It’s the one you were born with.”

“You don’t know me!” It is all I can come up with while shaking my head and laughing softly to myself. “You know nothing about me,” I say to throw him off, but I wasn’t prepared for this man, because he simply takes my words as a dare.

“I know I was your first kiss,” he taunts.

I screw up my nose. “Go fuck yourself,” I throw back.

Arrogant bastard.

He smirks, his face lighting up at my harsh retort. “But we were only three years old.”

I fight the small laugh that tickles in the back of my throat, the image of such a handsome miniature Axel stirring something confusing in my brain. Like it’s so clear. Like I’ve seen it before.

I clear my throat. “Well, toddler tonsil hockey doesn’t really count now, does it?”

He isn’t fazed, continuing to torment me, “I know you’re ticklish on your elbows because I used to torture you with it when we were in elementary school if you wouldn’t share your candy with me.”

I roll my eyes, trying to play it off like nothing.

But there is something—something buried deep in the back of my brain that’s screaming at me to tickle my elbow just so I will know if he’s telling the truth.

“When we were in third grade, we had the same teacher. She used to pee her pants every time she sneezed and spent most of class time in the bathroom.” My leg bounces nervously under the table as I fight to keep myself from screaming at him to stop.

I don’t know what it is about the things he’s saying or the way they are making me feel because I can’t explain it. Hendrix told me the truth, he knew these people, he knew what they’d done to me. I had the scars and shit to prove it. Memories I was glad I didn’t have any recognition of because just the thought of what they may have done to me was more than I could handle.

“You can stop now,” I order, looking away, my eyes searching for something on the walls—anything I can use to pull my attention away from the man sitting opposite me and the lies that he’s spewing.

At least, I want to think they are lies.

But since when does a lie feel so true in your gut?

When does a lie make your heart race and your body lean in like you want to know more?

“What about your dad?”

“What about him?” I ask, my hands curl into fists, trying to stop the oncoming wave of heat sweeping across my skin, letting me know to brace myself. I grab the table, holding on for dear life.

 

His body pinned me to the dirt, his heavy breath sounding like a windstorm in my ear. “My angel loves a little bit of devil inside her, doesn’t she?”

His movements were hard and sharp, drawing painful screams from my mouth which only delighted the shadows standing around us.

They were laughing at me, taunting me, taking delight in my pain.

I just wanted to die.

 

“Kenzi, he died while you were gone…” He lets the words hang like there’s some super dramatic pause, and I’m expected to cry and scream and be absolutely devastated.

“You need to stop,” I urge, catching a small glimpse of him and that steely gaze that grabs hold of me with both hands and won’t let me go.

“He tried to find yo—”

“Stop!” I yell, pressing my hands to my ears while shaking my head.

A migraine is coming on, it’s building, and I feel it in my spine growing stronger. The wave of pain that comes with it is excruciating, and I press my forehead to the table, shaking it back and forth just trying to get through it. One wave after another, they roll over me, stealing my breath, making me sweat.

Tears drip down onto the table, the pain beginning to ease and allowing my body to finally relax. The damage is done, though. My muscles ache, the dull thud in my brain isn’t completely gone, just bearable now. And I look like a mess, a broken, weak mess in front of the one person I was trying to stand strong in front of.

I know what his club has done to me.

I can’t believe he’s here, trying to convince me of anything else.

Hendrix told me.

He wouldn’t lie.

He protected me.

He saved me.

“Get out,” I order, finally pulling myself back into a sitting position.

Axel hasn’t moved. He sits quietly watching every moment of my pain, leaning in with his arms braced on the table, the deep blue eyes fucking drowning me. “You wanna tell me what the hell that was?” he asks, his jaw clicking like he’s struggling with something.

“What?” I ask, playing dumb, my energy draining and my body weak and tired.

Axel slams his fist down onto the table, and my entire body leaps into the air. “What the fuck is going on with you? I thought for a minute I was going to have to call in the doctor.”

“To put me to sleep again?” I taunt tiredly.

“No, to fucking save you!” he roars, getting to his feet, pushing the chair over in his temper. It clatters to the ground, his breathing elevated, his face paling. I can’t tell if he’s angry or terrified. At this point, had this been Hendrix, I would have been apologizing. I’d have been doing everything and anything to keep him calm before he destroyed everything and said things he didn’t mean—that he couldn’t take back.

Hendrix and his anger scare me.

Axel’s… doesn’t.

It confuses me.

It makes my head spin.

I can’t figure out why he cares so much. Why he’s put in so much effort to come and find me time after time. “What do you want from me?” I whisper finally, my fingers still rubbing at my temples. “I have nothing to give you. Why don’t you just leave me be?”

He freezes, falling back against the wall, his body sagging. “Because I made a promise to your father when he died.”

“What was that?” I question, part of me afraid to know but also desperate to hear a little piece of my past, to see if it fills that gaping hole in my chest.

“I told him I would find you,” he explains, his hand pressing to his chest, massaging softly. “Told him I wouldn’t fucking give up on you.”

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” I tell him, then lick my dry lips.

He starts to chuckle, surprising me for a moment as he pushes off the wall and heads to the door, banging twice. “Unfortunately for you, I’ve never made a promise I couldn’t keep.”