Page 4 of Reaper

Chapter 2

Katiana

I woke up with a groan and a sore neck. When I opened my eyes, I wasn’t surprised I was in a horrible-looking cell. It reminded me of a barn. Sitting up to rub my neck and roll my head around, I was on a nasty lumpy mattress on the floor.

They had looked a hell of a lot cleaner than my Dad’s MC members, but I guess first impressions could be wrong. I swung my legs towards the floor and grimaced at the disgusting cement floor as my boots hit it. I pulled the blanket off me and checked that I still had all my clothes on.

If nothing else, this gave me a break away from my Dad and half-brothers. I knew the club's name and had heard some stories about it, but I had never been interested in anything my Dad’s members discussed.

I swallowed, thinking of my other brother. I hoped to fuck he kept out of their way. At first, I didn’t think it was possible that my half-brothers could be as nasty as my Dad, but when they began to harass me, my dad did nothing to stop them. My real brother, Kieran, helped me add several locks to my door. If I needed to go to the bathroom at night. I didn’t.

Angrily, I ran my fingers through my hair. Men were all the fucking same, a shower of cunts. I sighed, except for Kieran.

I heard a door scrape open and footsteps walking towards me.

Perfect. Another cunt to piss off.

I lay back on the smelly mattress and tucked my hands under my head. Showing any form of fear puts a target on your back. I cringed at the way I saw my Dad’s members treated women. It was only because my Dad was fucked up that it kept them off me. The worst I’d had was a few slaps or shoves, but I had issues and could never keep my trap shut.

“How’s your accommodation?” A man said in a deep voice, dripping with sarcasm.

I didn’t need to turn my head to know this was the guy who told Animal to put me out. He was high up but didn’t look old enough to look like the Prez.

“Lovely, what time is dinner served, and does it come with champagne?” I said sweetly, still fucking salty about my burger. That was the one treat once a week that I fucking loved.

“How much do you know about your Dad’s club business?”

“Are you a moron? I’m not invited to Church,” I scoffed, women were treated like shit. They would never allow one into their stupid boys club meetings.

When I heard the metal lock open, every muscle in my body turned rigid, but I didn’t look at him. I had no choice when he stood over me. I glanced at his body. He was wearing his cut with a black long-sleeved top and denims. He had a scruffy dark beard. The pretty blue eyes weren’t bad. They wouldn’t be much use to him if I had to scratch them from his sockets. His thick hair was as messy as his beard. I smiled because it looked like he had been pulling at it because it was messier than in the cafe.

He kicked my mattress, causing me to jump, and it took everything in me to keep my hands tucked under my head.

“Do you have some kind of brain injury that I need to be aware of?” He growled out.

“No, but I feel my IQ has dropped considerably since being here. Have you considered that you are the problem and not the solution?” I said automatically before closing my eyes.

Why couldn’t I, for once, control my fucking mouth?

“I've made a mistake. There is no way they will want you back. I wouldn’t be surprised if they sent me their gratitude for taking you off their hands.”

I put my hand over my heart.

“That hurt,” I said with a pout and stuck my lower lip out.

His eyes moved over my face and down to my lips. His cheek began to twitch. I had to admit I don’t think I had ever driven someone to this level of pent-up rage. It only made me want to fuck with his head some more. He turned around and shut the gate, muttering under his breath before storming away like a diva.

“Can you send me tonight's menu, please?”

“FUCK YOU!” He shouted before slamming another door shut.

???

I wasn’t keen on the plastic bucket. It reeked and made me gag when I first saw it. Fortune was on my side as I had mastered my bladder and bowel movements. Without anyone to needle, I was utterly bored. They had taken my phone from my pocket. I couldn’t work on my Cookie Jam score. It could have been hours since I had been here or minutes I had no way of telling the time.

I heard the door scrape open again. This time, I kept my eyes on the bars of my cell. It was an older man that came in. I frowned when I focused on his face. He reminded me of the man who had come in earlier. They even had the same beard line, but his Dad’s was grey. His dad was better groomed than his son. It dawned on me who he was. My dad hated him with a passion.

“Mac?” I asked.

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