Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 134654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
17
16
15
“Move back.” I herded Beetle and the men farther away. I wasn’t afraid of gunfire the moment the bomb went off—but I was afraid of ricocheting shrapnel. The pressure of anticipation fogged around us. Men breathed hard, waiting to attack.
4
3
2
I tensed for deafening war.
Then, it happened.
The explosion tore through my eardrums. My eyes watered at the crescendo. The colossally loud noise cracked through the early morning sky, ripping at the once peaceful silence.
“Now!” I yelled, springing up and charging. “Go. Go. Go!”
We shot forward.
Smoking rubble and dust formed a barricade. Vision was shit as we bowled through the demolished door. There was no more door—only a cloudy pile of metal and smashed bricks.
Our boots clattered as we scrambled from night into reeking corridors. Marijuana, rubbish, and cigarettes punched us in the face as we streamed into the Clubhouse like an infectious disease, fanning out, clearing room after room.
Gunshots rang out, shouts, curses, screams.
It happened at mach speed.
Eight fucking years I’d waited for this and it felt as if the entire world fast-forwarded.
I wanted to feel this. To have my revenge.
But I turned into a machine, aiming, firing, shutting down to focus on staying alive.
Charging into a den three doors down, I ducked as bullets rained into the wall where my head had been. In a split second, I catalogued two bikers trying to kill me and three junkie whores on the floor.
I didn’t think.
I fired.
A spray of bullets mowed them down, sending the two men face-first to the gross carpet.
The girls screamed, scrambling together as if there were safety in numbers.
I didn’t check patches or discern who was what. Dagger, Crusader—it no longer mattered. All that mattered was finding my father and brother.
Where the fuck are they?
Ducking back into the corridor, I wheezed on brick dust and sulfur smoke. A barely dressed woman bolted toward me, her chest daubed in blood. I stepped to the side, letting her pass.
A biker charged after her.
I didn’t give him a free ticket.
My finger squeezed the trigger.
He collapsed.
The Clubhouse was a fucking mess. Bikers, old ladies, my men, their men. It was an anthill with madness around every corner.
I lost count how many bullets I dispensed and how many lives I stole.
I didn’t play favorites or hesitate.
No half measures.
This was what I’d been waiting for. I was owed this.
I shot without discretion, striking guts and legs, hearts and heads.
Every man I maimed didn’t slate my bloodlust. Every room I entered didn’t tame my heartbeat.
Only putting an end to my father and brother would do that.
Reaching the kitchen at the back of the house, where meth packets and bongs littered the countertops instead of cereal and milk, I bumped into Mo.
He grinned, a smear of blood over his forehead. “Sup.”
I saluted. “Keeping score?”
“Too many to count.” His lips twitched.
Mo was a seasoned fighter—he had the scars to prove it.
Tag teaming, we moved as one. Leaving the kitchen, we melted into bedrooms, dispatching men before they had a chance to shout and aim.
Mo grinned, completely in his element.
Turning my back on a massacre of Crusaders and Daggers, I slapped him on the shoulder. Sudden gratefulness and kinship swarmed me. He’d been a fucking dick when I first arrived, but ever since, he’d been a solid friend. “Morgan …”
He paused, his finger twitching on his trigger. “Yep, Prez?”
“Cheers—for everything.”
He chuckled. “Didn’t think carnage brought out the soppiness in you, Kill.” His eyes glowed. “Means a lot, though, man. Thanks.”
A bullet slammed into the wall, cutting our moment short. With no hesitation, he ducked, aimed, and slaughtered a Dagger.
Leaving him to it, I charged from the room and back into the corridor.
A shape barreled toward me. I raised my semi.
“Wow, Prez!” Beetle skidded to a halt, blood plastered all over his hair.
I pointed the muzzle at the carpet. “You seen them?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. Heard that Asus might be hiding in the john, though.” He cocked his thumb up the corridor. “That way.”
My gun grew heavier with retribution. “Perfect.”
Without another word, he bolted away and disappeared in the hazy smoke.
I followed his direction, stalking past bodies and clearing suddenly silent rooms. Everywhere I looked, I saw men I’d grown up with—trusted and learned from—but no Rubix. No Asus.
My heart thundered. The longer I couldn’t find my targets, the more my rage increased.
This was supposed to be their hideout. So where the fuck are they?
Slamming my shoulder against a toilet door, I bulldozed inside.
And fate finally smiled down on me.
Found you.
I stood in shock as I faced my brother.
“Shit.” His eyes met mine, rage, fear, and surprise mingled in their depths. He sat on the dirtiest shitter I’d ever seen. A rifle pointed at my chest.
“Hello, Dax.” My arm swung upward without thinking.
He snarled, every muscle locked. “Goodbye, Arthur.”
The family reunion happened in a split second. Recognition, acknowledgment, anger.