Deceiver (Prisoners of Purgatory MC #2) Read Online Bella Jewel

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Contemporary, Dark, MC, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Prisoners of Purgatory MC Series by Bella Jewel
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Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
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There isn’t a way around this anymore, it needs to end.

The pain radiating through my stomach when I arrive at the club alerts me that something very bad is going on. Not only does my head feel as though it’s going to explode, but I’ve got cramping low enough to know that I’m injured and it’s not going to end well. The heartbreak already filling my body by the time I walk through the front gates is almost enough to cripple me. I just need to see Western; I need to talk to him, I need to make this all go away. I can’t take much more.

Mex and another biker stand at the front gates, and when they see me, their eyes widen. “Fuck, are you okay? Everyone is out lookin’ for you.”

I am doubled over, the pain slowly intensifying. “I’m not. Is Western here?”

“He isn’t, he’s out searchin’. I’ll call him. Bonnie, do you need medical care?”

I shake my head. “No, I just ... I’m going to lie down. I’ll be in his shed.”

I don’t let him answer. The tears slowly begin trickling down my cheeks as I walk into Western’s shed. I make it to the bathroom and slowly sit on the toilet, my body aching. I wipe, and I know what I’m going to see, small spots of blood. I close my eyes and cry; I cry because I know how this is going to end. Does it mean it wasn’t going to end like this from the start? I don’t know, but I do know that Bill doing what he did gave me no chance.

He has taken everything from me, and now he has taken my baby.

Tears flow forth, and I pull up my pants and then lower myself onto the floor, curling my knees up to my chest. The pain is slowly getting worse, it has been hours now, and I know there is nothing I can do. Hell, I’m only days late for my period, this was probably going to happen anyway, but it doesn’t take away the fact that it hurts. It really hurts. And on top of everything else I’m dealing with, I just don’t know how to cope right now.

I begin sobbing, soft, strangled sounds being ripped from my throat as my body trembles there on Western’s bathroom floor.

I don’t hear him come in.

I don’t even hear the door open.

It’s only when I feel a hand swipe my now tear-soaked hair from my face that my eyes open and I see Western staring down at me, a look on his face I can’t even begin to decipher right now. I don’t think, I just start talking, my words flowing out in between sobs.

“I’m pregnant,” I croak, and then gasp as the pain of that reality hits me. “But I think it’s over. I was coming to tell you. I was ... Bill hurt me and now I think I’m losing the baby. Everyone hurts me. I never meant for any of this to happen. I never meant to hurt you or your club. I just want them to leave me alone. I want my life back. I can’t breathe anymore, Western. I just want it to stop. That was my baby ...”

Silence.

Then, without a single word, he reaches down and scoops me into his arms. He lifts me off the bathroom floor, in all my wailing cries, and carries me out and to the bed. He pulls back the covers and lays me down, placing my head on the pillow, and then he shrugs out of his jacket and climbs in beside me. He pulls me into his arms, something he has never done before, and I welcome it. I roll into him, my face pressing against his chest, and there he holds me through every agonized sob that leaves my throat.

He doesn’t let me go; he just hangs on to me.

He holds me in a way I could have only dreamed of before this point.

His fingers glide through my hair, his lips press against my forehead, and even though he doesn’t say a single word, he is bringing me the kind of comfort I so desperately need.

I don’t want to lose my baby.

I didn’t realize it until this moment, but I want it more than I could have ever known.

The sound of booted feet has Western shifting, and I don’t bother to look up and see who is there. Instead, I hear Western’s low voice murmur, “Bring a truck around.”

Whoever came in leaves without another word.

Western moves in the bed, slowly shifting us so he can slide out. I open my eyes, my vision blurry, and I look up at him. He reaches down, lifting my shirt and his fingers run over my skin. A rage flashes across his face that I know means when he gets his hands on Bill, he won’t ever come back from it. He lowers my shirt and then reaches down, lifting me into his arms. He still hasn’t said a single word to me, but he’s being there in a way no words could ever replace.


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