So, there was an overwhelming request from some of you masochists who wanted to see the night Masen died from his POV. This is that outtake. If you've read Clutch, you know how he died. Please don't read this if you think it will be too much. And damn, was it incredibly hard to write this one! *sniff*


**Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.


Clutch outtake of chapter 9: The one where Masen comes to the end of the road.


Masen

"She deserves to be happy. If this all goes to shit, just ..." I swallow hard and lick my lips, squeezing my eyes closed as every regret I have burns through me. "Make sure she's happy."

Before my brother can talk me out of what I'm determined to do, I end the call, severing the lifeline I've always had when I get myself into trouble. Gripping my phone, I press it to my forehead and take a deep breath.

Every choice I've ever made, every mistake—and fuck, there have been plenty—my brother has been there to clean up behind me, to smack me around and remind me of what I have to lose. He's been there at every turn to push me back where I need to be.

But now that I've lost everything—my wife, my family—I don't feel like I have the right to ask him to clean up my mess. My choices have led me here, and I'm the only one who can fix the clusterfuck I've gotten myself into.

The wind kicks up, whipping around me, and I look up, my gaze landing on the door of the club. The reckoning I need lies past the doors, and there's only one way to get it.

After checking the grip of the gun tucked into my waistband and the blade strapped to my leg, I push off my bike, pull my hood over my head, and walk inside. There's no one at the door, no security, and I'm able to slip in undetected. The club is crowded ... bouncing; the music, combined with the flowing alcohol and naked women, gives this rundown place a certain kind of energy. And it's exactly the kind of atmosphere where a nameless, faceless out-of-towner can get lost in the crowd.

A small group of Kingsmen are here, maybe a half dozen of them, front and center. The girls are on stage, shaking what their mamas gave them, while the club members toss out singles like confetti. The dancers eat that shit up, too, dipping and grinding to the beat. It's a skeevy, nasty place, with sticky floors and dirty walls, and for some reason, I can't help but think it's almost poetic that my mistakes have brought me here.

I find an open spot at the bar with a great view of the stage and take a seat. The view of the bartender isn't so bad either. She's not as scantily-clad as the waitresses walking around, but she's definitely dressed for tips. A tight, white t-shirt clings to her tits and rides high on her stomach, exposing a bellybutton ring and some ink, and the shorts she's wearing are cut so high I get an eyeful of her ass before she turns to me with a smile.

"What can I get for you, handsome?"

"What's on tap?"

She rattles off the choices and I ask for a Heineken. It's cold and something to distract me while I wait. It doesn't hurt that it calms the nerves rolling through me.

The group of Kingsmen only grows as the evening goes on, a few more members showing up and joining the others. But the one I really want—Caius—hasn't shown his face. The dancers switch off every few songs, and it isn't until I've watched a dozen or more women strip down to nothing that the fucker walks in. And when he does, all the rage I felt the night Bella was attacked comes surging back.

I know I'm to blame for inviting the trouble into our lives. And I expected it to come back and bite me in the ass one day. I fully expected having to pay the price for crossing that line with his daughter, for stealing a rock of H from him. It was a price I was willing to pay to fucking finally get ahead, to pull my family out of the hole I'd dug for us.

I just never imagined he'd go after my old lady.

And now, as I watch him laugh and joke with his club brothers like he doesn't have a care in the world, the only thing that will snuff out the rage I feel is to see his blood soak the ground.

He's got the same cocky swagger I remember from meeting him years ago. But other than being older, nothing much has changed about him. Flanked by his brother, Aro, and his Secretary, Marcus, Caius walks in like he owns the place. And he probably does. The Kingsmen are known for moving not only smack through town, but moving women, too. Rumor has it, trafficking girls is a good portion of their income.

He was the lowest of the low before he put his hands on my wife.

Like any other stakeout I've been part of over the years, I sit and watch ... wait. There are ten of them now—probably most of their chapter—and it's becoming pretty fucking clear I'm going to have a hard time getting the asshole alone.

And if I choose to go after him, his club will have his back. It's almost certainly a death sentence.

But when I close my eyes and see Bella's face—the tears I've caused over the years, the pain I've caused—it almost feels like a penance. Maybe my leaving will finally give her some peace. And if my some miracle I manage to make it out of this mess alive, I'll spend the rest of my miserable life trying to be a better man for my son.

The second glass to be placed in front of me is nearly gone when I watch Caius stand and walk to the back with one of the dancers.

I find the bottom of my glass pretty quickly, downing my drink.

"Hey, hon," I call out to the bartender as she passes by. "Can I close out my tab?"

She smiles ear to ear. "Sure thing."

"Thanks."

She slips the ticket across the bar and I note the total ... along with what I'm guessing is her number scrawled at the bottom. I pull a few bills from my wallet and lay them on the bill, handing the whole thing over. "Keep the change."

She pockets the cash as I start to stand. "You sure you don't wanna keep this?" she calls out, holding the slip in her hand.

"I'm good. Just passing through for a drink."

"Suit yourself."

I weave through the crowd and toward the back. The hallway is dark and empty. And the few doors past the mens' room are all closed. There's no way of knowing which one Caius disappeared into. I'm left with no other option but to find an even darker corner and wait.

Minutes pass before a door creaks open, but it isn't Caius who walks out. Another man adjusts his dick as he passes by, completely oblivious of my presence. Another ten minutes pass before the second door opens, and again, it's not the man I'm waiting for.

When I realize the last closed door is where Caius is. When he walks out, I'll have mere seconds to make my move. My heart starts racing and my mouth goes dry. There's a good chance I won't make it out of the hallway before someone finds me hovering over Caius' dead body. I get one chance at doing this right, even if there are a dozen men in the other room who will want to see me torn to pieces if I do.

Needing a silent approach, I reach for the blade strapped to my leg, the handle soft and worn from years of use. I'm not proud of the fact that it's seen more than its fair share of blood and violence over the years. And with any luck, it'll serve me at least one more time.

But when my phone buzzes in my pocket, a voice in the back of my head whispers at me to look. When the screen lights up and Sammy's message comes through, I smile through a silent sob.

goodnight. i miss you daddy. love sam.

I squeeze my eyes closed and grit my teeth. "What the fuck am I doing?" I whisper to myself.

Not only am I going into this knowing I'm going against my club, against my brother and father, I'll die knowing I only had to ask for help and they'd have been by my side. Swallowing my pride is easier said than done. But then again, it's my pride that got me into this mess.

When the final door swings open and Caius steps out, my heart takes off like a rocket. I have a split second to make a decision, and as he gets closer, my heart rate only increases until I feel like I can't breathe. The tension in my body is almost unbearable, but the grip I have on my knife loosens, until finally, my hand hangs loosely at my side as he walks past me.

I turn and thump my head against the wall. Angry voices in my head berate me, scream at me about how much of a fuck-up I am, about how I'll never be anything more than a screw-up. How I ever thought I could handle this on my own and live to tell about it is beyond me.

Resigned, I accept that it's just another thing to add to my long line of mistakes.

I tuck my knife back into its sheath and look for an exit. The only door at the end of the hallway is alarmed, and the last thing I want to do is draw attention to myself. So, I once again pull my hood up and duck my head, weaving through the crowd toward the front door.

As I reach the door, the bartender calls out and I instinctively spin around. After realizing she's not calling out for me, my gaze travels to the group of Kingsmen at the front of the room ... and locks with Aro Volturi.

He slaps a hand to his club brother's chest, but I don't stick around to see what happens next. Faster than I thought possible, I slip out the door and haul ass to my bike parked around back. My heart thunders in my chest, and my hands fucking shake as the absolute and utter stupidity of what I thought I could do finally catches up with me.

Why I thought I could handle this on my own, I have no fucking idea, but it's glaringly obvious I'm in over my head. And once again I'm going to have to depend on my brother and the rest of the club to bail me out.

"Fucking idiot," I mumble as I slip the end of the chin strap through the ring. But my hands are shaking so much I miss. For a brief moment I consider skipping the brain bucket, but with as shaky as I am and the few drinks I had, I know better. My minor spill years ago laid me up for weeks, and I can't afford to be down that long right now.

I manage to get the key in the ignition and fire it up. I take just a moment to take a breath, trying to get a handle on my breathing. With a new determination, I kick up the kickstand and pull in the clutch, shifting into first and peeling out of the lot. Aiming for home, I wind up each gear, reaching fifth in a matter of seconds.

The lights of the small town grow dimmer with every passing mile. Once I pass the city limits, the roads are deserted, no cars or even streetlights as far as the eye can see. A flicker of hope sparks in my chest when I realize I just might have made it out of this one.

But when a lone headlight appears in my mirror ... then two, then six ... I realize my mistake. I've underestimated my enemy. I tuck in and roll back on the throttle as hard as I can. My heart pounds and my insides shake. I'm beyond outnumbered, and the only hope I have of walking away from this is if I can outrun them.

But when I reach 90, the bars start to shake, so I let up on the throttle just a little. But my Dyna is no match for their pack of V-Rods. Within two miles, they've almost caught up to me. My already racing heart is in my throat.

I know I'm a dead man.

It starts with one of them on my left. He closes in and pushes me toward the berm. But when another rides up on my right, I'm forced to the left. Back and forth they fuck with me. When they back off, I think for a second I might be able to get out of this mess, but it's short lived.

I didn't notice it before, but at the back of their pack is a cage, and it's closing in on me. The headlights shine in my mirrors, temporarily blinding me, and in that one moment of weakness, he pounces.

With a thump to my rear tire, I completely lose it, the bars wrenching back and forth, and the wobble at this speed is enough to take me out.

I close my eyes as I go down, rolling and tumbling like a bullet as I'm ejected from my bike. The burn on my skin as I skip across the pavement is brutal. The asphalt rips through my jeans, through my hoodie ... through my skin and bone, and searing, blinding pain shoots through me. I gasp, but I can't fill my lungs. I fight against the sudden stranglehold on my chest; I can't fucking breathe. When I finally skid to a stop, I'm completely still, unable to move my limbs. I'm sure more than one bone is broken. My head lolls and I can't open my eyes.

Fire works its way through me, from my head to my mangled feet, overpowering my other senses. The only thing left is pain.

Pain and regret.

"Look who we have here," Caius says as he walks up, his voice sounding muffled and distant. "Thought you could come for me, Cullen?"

I'm unable to speak, unable to respond.

"I think it's time to teach this punk a lesson. What do you think, boys? Do I need to make an example of this thieving piece of shit?"

I'm hauled up by my arms, my flayed body one giant, raw nerve. But it matches how I feel on the inside. Raw ... defeated.

This is how it ends. On the side of a desert road, alone and violently. But maybe it's exactly what I deserve. Seems like a fitting death for someone who was never good enough anyway.

My helmet is unceremoniously ripped from my head, and Caius rummages through my pockets, pulling out my gun, while another club member finds the blade strapped to my leg.

"So, which one were you gonna use on me, kid?" He takes the knife from Marcus and unsheathes it, the blade glinting in the light cast by the headlights. "Were you gonna gut me there in the club?" He grabs my hair, tipping my head back and staring into my unfocused eyes. "Oh yeah, we're gonna make an example outta you."

The first cut into my skin is nothing compared to the pain radiating through the rest of me. Even when he pushes a little harder, carves a little deeper, it feels like a scratch.

"There," he says, pulling back and admiring his handiwork. "Can't let you be found without them knowing who put you here." He leans in closer, lowering his voice. "I want that pretty wife of yours to know I'm the one who did this. Maybe she won't put up a fight when I come calling again."

The last bit of fight I have left surges through me, and I fight against their hold.

Caius and the others chuckle. "Oh, look at you! You think you're gonna fight your way out of this now?" Aro hands him my gun. "I don't think so." He grins and aims it squarely at my chest. "See ya in hell."

With the flash of the muzzle comes a different light, a bright light that seems to transform my vision, my senses, and a sense of peace I've never experienced before settles over me.

...

"What kind do you want, Masen?"

"Wocky woad, Mommy," I whisper, embarrassed as I nuzzle my face into her hair. It smells like cookies. Mommy always smells like cookies.

...

"Go say hello to your brother, Mase." Daddy gives me a nudge, pushing me toward the bigger boy. He's different, taller, and his hair is different than mine and Mommy's.

"Hi," he says. One of his front teeth is missing when he smiles. "Wanna play with my toy cars?"

"Okay."

...

"Your Mommy's gone, Masen" Gran says with shining eyes. "It's just the two of us now."

Gran holds me, but they aren't the arms I want right now. I want my mom. Her hugs are softer and she smells like cookies. She never yells like Gran does. Mom is like sunshine. I push away and run to my room, slamming the door behind me before I throw myself on my bed and crying into my pillow.

...

"Damn. Would you look at that?"

I follow Edward's gaze to the little brunette walking toward the office. With pouty lips and big dark eyes, and legs for days, she's ... the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.

But I try not to let on how pretty I think she is. I don't need anything else for my brother to nag on. I slam my locker closed. "She new?"

"Must be," Edward murmurs before turning back to me. He waggles his eyebrows. "I call dibs."

...

She leans closer and I dip my head lower, and I'm suddenly overcome with the need to tell her what I've been feeling for months ... even if I haven't said the words to anyone since I was a little boy.

"I love you, Bella Swan," I murmur just before my lips meet hers.

...

With a shaking hand, she places the white stick in mine. "I'm pretty sure I'm pregnant," she whispers. But for all the weight those words carry, she may as well have shouted them.

My eyes are focused on the tiny window with the plus sign. My mouth goes dry, and my stomach falls to my feet. "You're ..."

"Yeah."

Neither of us says anything for a long time, but I can't stop the flashes from invading my mind.

A little girl with Bella's smile and brown eyes.

Maybe a little boy with the same cocky grin his old man has.

The three of us ... a family of our own, something neither of us have really ever had.

It's a future I suddenly can't see myself not having. And I want it ... bad.

"Marry me."

...

She steps out into the open-air courtyard, the canopy of white blooms overhead splintering the sunlight, and I've never seen her look more beautiful.

Unable to wipe the smile off my face, I reach for her. "You ready to become Mrs. Cullen?"

Her responding blush is all the answer I need.

As the officiant prattles on, I can't take my eyes off Bella. And when he finally asks us to recite our vows, when Bella looks up and says "I do," everything falls into place.

I finally have everything I've always wanted—a family of my own.

...

Out of breath but completely fucking sated, I roll to my back and pull her to me, unwilling to be an inch away from her.

"Love you," she whispers into the dark.

I kiss her forehead and squeeze her to my side. "Love you, too, babe."

...

Nerves I can't extinguish make it feel like my whole body is trembling from the inside out. When I reach into his isolette, the length of my hand nearly covers him, and the stark reality of just how small he is strikes me. I brush my finger against his tiny hand, and he instinctually grasps it, making me smile.

"You've got quite the grip." I don't know if I'm imagining it, but his head moves, almost like he can hear my voice, and my smile grows as tears cloud my vision. "It's nice to meet you, Samuel. Welcome to the world, little man."

...

"Think we can sneak some cookies before your mom catches us?"

Sam smiles up at me, his grin mischievous like mine but his eyes so much like his mother's. He really is the very best parts of us. "I want two."

I laugh and reach into the cookie jar, handing one over. "There you go. But you better not tell Mom."

He hugs me, and his tiny arms around my waist recharge me, remind me why I struggle so much.

It's all for him.

...

"You and Sam will always be the best part of my life."

Tears well in her eyes. "I know," she says over the sound of the bike. "And I want you to know, I love you too, Masen. I've loved you since I was eighteen. But I can't—"

"I know, beautiful. And I'm smart enough to know if I ever want to see you smile again, I need to let you go. But I don't know how in the hell I'm supposed to do that." I shake my head as I pull on my gloves. I look back up at her, a sad smile on my face. "Just ... be happy, Bella. That's all I want."

Bella's smile.

Sam's hugs.

Love.