Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Getting to his feet, Callan nods to Monster.
My mouth drops open, and my hand juts out. “No!” I call as Monster drags the blade across Carver’s throat, blood spraying out like a shaken champagne bottle. It splatters across the table, spraying Bear in a crimson mist. The brothers at the back of the room jolt forward, stopping when their eyes flit to something behind me. I know without looking that Grease is aiming his weapon at them.
A gurgle bubbles from Carver’s lips.
The metallic scent fills my nostrils and sticks to the back of my throat. His hand slips away from his neck, the thick red slash streaming a crimson river down his chest.
Callan grips my hand and nods to Bear. “Our blood was spilled, and now so is yours.”
CHAPTER 14
CRIMSON TIDES
“Get on the bike, Rogue.” Callan’s voice scrapes across my mind like sandpaper.
I don’t even remember walking outside. The sun soaks into my skin as it streaks through a scattering of marshmallow clouds. I stand beside Callan’s bike, staring at his face. He’s so striking, just looking at him cuts deep.
Carver was an asshole, but I’ve known him almost as long as I’ve known Tyler. Watching Monster butcher him like a pig will haunt me forever.
“Rogue,” Callan repeats.
I nod, taking my helmet and slipping it over my head. Fire burns my eyes, and I’m grateful for the obscurity of my helmet. I sweep my leg over the bike, my gaze landing on Monster straddling his bike beside us. My eyes drop to the knife, now sheathed on his thigh, and my gut twists.
Chaos rages in my heart. Conflict pulls me in too many directions. If Tyler were here it would have been his blood sprayed across that table not Carver’s. And as much as I want answers I don’t have it in me to be part of his murder.
The engine roars to life, vibrating the seat, humming up my thighs. I wrap my arms around Callan’s waist and lay my head against his back, allowing myself a moment to remember the Devil in me who lost something today.
Not just Carver, but Bear too.
As soon as Callan idles the bike back at the King’s compound, I take off, crashing through the door and rushing down the hallway. The walls blur, my heart pounding in my ears. Jerking Callan’s bedroom door open, I head straight for the en suite. My knees crash to the tiled floor, my arms curling around the toilet seat as my body purges the small amount of food in my stomach.
Acid burns up my throat. Water streams from my eyes. My body heaves. A twinge of pain expands through my ribs as my muscles contract. Pushing to my feet, I wipe my mouth with my sleeve and move to the shower. Sweat coats my skin. It’s hard to breathe.
I peel the sweater from my skin then toe off my shoes and kick out of my pants. Stumbling inside the shower, I turn the knob to cold. An icy torrent blasts down on me, stealing the air from my lungs and dousing the fever taking over my flesh. I wish I could scrub the images in my mind away as quickly.
I stand there under the punishing flow until my body goes numb.
Switching the shower off, I step out, wrap a towel around my body, and wring out my hair. I sense Callan before I see his imposing frame in the doorway.
“We had to send a message, Rogue.”
“I know.” I shiver.
That’s the hardest part about this. I know how it works. I know what needs to be done. The Kings can’t show weakness, even if the Devils aren’t a significant threat. Other clubs, gangs, the mafia—they keep tabs on what the others are doing. Like in the wild, they’ll fight you for dominance and territory if they see weakness. When it comes down to it, we’re all animals.
Walking to the mirror, I apply cream to my face. The sun left her mark today.
“I want you to text Tyler.”
My eyes dart to Callan’s through the mirror. A lump forms in my throat.
Pushing off the doorframe, he comes to stand behind me, his large palms covering my bare shoulders. The contact of his skin on mine seeps into me, and my eyes close. “Damn, Rogue. You’re freezing,” he hisses.
“Please don’t make me do this,” I beg, the words barely making it past my lips. My head falls forward, weighing a thousand pounds.
“He’ll answer you. Get him to meet you.”
“Callan,” I choke out. “You can’t ask me this. It’s not fair.”
“It’s better for him if we don’t have to hunt him down.”
Blood whooshes in my ears. A hurricane, turbulent and destructive, destroys me from the inside out. “Do you even care when you take a life?” I ask, sincerely curious.
Static fills the silence before he cuts through it. “A wolf doesn’t apologize for being an alpha. I’ll do what I must to survive, to stay on top, to keep my brothers and my club safe. If I can do that without spilling blood, good, but I won’t hesitate to take a life to keep my kingdom intact.”