Zero and Beauty's Breath (A Satan Sniper's Motorcycle Club Series Book 3 - 4)

Chapter 55 (Beauty's Breath) (Beggar)

“If I tell you, are you gonna snitch?”

“Nah ah, I ain't never snitched, Snitches are wussy’s I ain't no wussy,” She folds her hands and pouts

her lips, and I can't help but laugh.

“You look worse than a fouls butt when you do that, but I get the meaning.”

“So? Are you gonna tell me Beggar?”

I snort, “No, I ain't no snitch either kid, but I can tell you this, you can figure it out on your own,” I wink

again and ruffle her curly hair before taking her tiny hand in my own and walking the rest of the

distance to the barn and stables.

The sun is almost completely set, so the lights around the hill and walk way brightens our way.

Last time I was up this side of the Clubhouse was the night Lucca sent his men. They killed a lot of the

Satan Snipers. One of those could have been Mercy. The funeral was a big one and while I didn't stay

for the whole thing, I understood their bond as a club, a family.

Something I will never have.

It was the day that I decided to stop running, well I didn't really decide, Killer and Zero caught me

sneaking out that night. They weren't impressed, in fact they were both pissed off.

I think I finally understood it then, the meaning of family. Family stuck together, family didn’t leave when

things got bad.

The two of them weren’t angry that I was leaving. They were disappointed that I didn’t think they’d want

me to stay.

As fucked up as it sounds, I have only ever known a life alone.

Trust is something I learned to never do, no matter how good things seem, no matter how sweet a

package looks all wrapped up.

It almost got me killed the few times I did. I don’t even think I could trust myself. I didn’t trust myself to This content provided by N(o)velDrama].[Org.

keep my baby safe all those years ago and I have known myself my whole life. How am I supposed to

trust a group of bikers I met a year ago?

“Papa said he's gonna marry my mama, and adopt me,” Jo says as we get to the stables.

“I heard, sounds like a solid plan. You already calling him Papa, might as well make it official.”

“Yeah, but I heard mama saying that she doesn't want to contact my real daddy, says he didn't want me

and if he knew that I was going to be adopted he won't sign the papers 'cause he's a jackass.”

The kid is talking some really deep shit, and while it is wrong to eavesdrop, I would have done the

same, so I can't fault her.

I bend down and put my knees on the hard sand ground. My hands go around her shoulders. I spin her

around so she is facing me.

“I'll tell you a secret kid, my daddy didn't want me too, but here I am, still alive, and well. Life doesn't

always happen the way we want it, but it still happens, we have to keep moving, keep breathing until

we die. You, Jocelyn, don't need any blood daddy. See that man down there that you call your Papa, he

loves you more than any blood daddy can love their child, more than life himself. From what I heard, it

was you that stole our President’s heart before your momma, so if you have any doubts just know that

it ain't blood that makes the bond, it's in here.”

I touch her chest, right on her heart. She does me a solid when she throws herself around me,

knocking me on the ground. Her hands lock tight around my neck.

Her body shakes, the only sign she’s crying, “I love my Papa Beggar. I want him to adopt me so bad,

and I love you Beggar, you are the best aunt.”

Her words are so sweet and pure that I close my eyes and hold the little girl close to me.

It is a bitter sweet moment, as my mind wonders what it would feel like to have my own baby girl telling

me she loves me.

I think of how much she will love Zero, and how happy we could be but I know that is just a foolish

thought, a weakness in a precious moment.

Stolen moments like these always leave the bitterness of reality once the time passes. It is an agony in

itself, a curse.

When I was eight, I saw these kids playing dolly house during recess.

I asked the girls if I could play. When they agreed, I was as shocked as any.

Normally they’d say no, tell me to get lost and chase me away.

That day was one of the best days of my young life.

When my mother came that afternoon to pick me up, I told her about the game called dolly house.

I said I could be anyone I wanted, I chose to be a teacher.

She lost her shit, started shouting at me, screaming in one of her crazy rages that I was going to school

to learn facts.

It was one of the few times I was really scared of my mother.

She said imagination was for fools who didn’t taste the flames of hell.

I wanted to tell her I was a fool because neither did I, but I did well to remain silent.

A few days later one of those kids I played dolly house with was beaten to death by her father.

I never played dolly house again.