Page 31 of Tyrant

The surroundings grow dark, my vision clouding as my body locks up. Warm fuzziness overtakes my entire body, hinting at what’s coming. I’m about to truly be set free. I will no longer have to worry, or hurt inside. I’ll meetHIM, my savior,and find my next calling in life.

Please hear me now. Protect Tyrant. Let him save my daughter. They need each other.

Everything goes black.

Chapter 18

Tyrant

The chaos that I discovered leaving my room was the last thing I’d been expecting. The club sluts were screaming in fear as men surrounded the clubhouse with a ring of fire. “Whatthe fuck?” I shout, staring out the window. The prospects are out there on this side of the literal fire, shooting the hoses towards the flames. Henley runs past me, a ten-pound bag of flour over each shoulder. “The fuck?” I repeat.

Darlene says, “Flour will help put the fire out.”

With a nod, I turn my focus on Kitty. “Kit, shut the fuck up with your screaming. Go grab the fire extinguisher. If the flames come inside, douse the fucking fire and get Blair the hell out of here.” She’s dumbstruck for a moment, so I shout, louder, “You hear me?” It snaps her out of it and she nods, running for the kitchen.

“You too, Darlene,” I order, and she takes off towards the laundry room without another word to do as she’s told.

“Twilah Jane, fill up the five-gallon buckets we have behind the bar with water and put them next to the door in case we need to grab them. Be ready to refill them.”

“Got it.” She dashes behind the bar, in such a hurry she drops the buckets and they clatter several times before the water kicks on.

“Are all the brothers outside?” If someone’s asleep, I need to wake them the fuck up.

“They’re out there,” she shouts and points back at the window.

“Give me the shotgun behind the bar.”

She rushes to do as she’s told and slides the gun across the bar. Shots echo outside, so I hurry for the front door. Storming through it, I slam the heavy door shut behind me and momentarily take in everything. The prospects work on putting the fire out while my brothers shoot at the men on the other side of the flames. As soon as a big enough gap is created between the flames, my brothers are darting through.

“Fuck!” I growl and cock the shotgun. These motherfuckers got me out of bed, spending time with my woman for some motherfucking ruckus? These fuckers are gonna die. With furymaking my gut clench and heart beat faster, I jog for the nearest opening. The closest motherfucker on the other side is on a goddamn horse. A legit horse, like some old-time western movie he just rode in on. Without hesitation, I reach for him, dragging his ass down. He gets trapped in his long weird robes he’s got on and falls into the dirt at my feet.

“Betcha wasn’t expecting for us to be so motherfuckin’ tall, were you?” I ask, then slam my foot into his face. It’d be even better if I had my steel-toed boots on so I could crush his fucking skull. I shift, pulling my leg back to land a kick into his gut and then his chest. His breath leaves him on my contact and I continue to land kick after kick until he’s no longer moving or making a sound. I run for the next fuck face on a horse, lift the shotgun and aim for his chest. It blasts a hole clear through and he falls to the ground with a scream. Peering over him, I slam the butt of the gun into his nose repeatedly until he’s no longer moving either.

“Get Blair!” Rogue shouts. “You were supposed to be inside! I just saw one of their men head inside the club.”

“It’s the cult!” Creed yells, louder than I’ve ever heard him before. Havoc, raining shots into someone, shakes me out of my momentarily pause. Their words hit me like a ton of bricks, the implication clear.

Josef has come for my woman.

He’s going to try to kill her, and I swore to protect her. To save her and her daughter from him.

I’m instantly turning around, pushing myself, but even with my long strides, I swear my feet don’t move fast enough. I barge into the clubhouse, peering around, but only find the club whores doing as I’d ordered earlier. Zero dips in, grabs a bucket of water, runs outside, dumps, and comes back for another. Twilah Jane works in sync with him, refilling the buckets as quickly as she can.

Leaving them behind, I head for my room. Throwing the door open, what I find makes my blood run cold. My woman, trapped on the floor by some fuck wearing white robes. His hands are wrapped around her throat as he angrily says something close to her face. I’m raging far too hard to hear a word he says. Without missing a beat, I rush forward, pulling my leg back and sending a heavy kick to his face. The forceful impact instantly breaks his hold on Blair, making him fall back onto the floor. It’s game on with his hands off her.

Dropping the shotgun, I move over him. This is much more personal than giving him the easy way out with a bullet to his head. “You’ll never touch her again,” I promise and begin beating her ex-husband. My foot finds his face again, knocking it to the side as the impact from my second kick breaks his jaw, then I’m on top of him, pummeling him. Right, left, right, my fists rain pain. My forehead flies into his, then again, as it busts open with blood gushing everywhere.

I’m no longer a man, but a savage, out for blood. Before he can get a hit in, I’m holding his head, hands over his ears, as I begin to slam it into the stained concrete. Over and over, it hits the hard surface, blood coating my fingers as it stains my floor darker with the crimson liquid.

My anger boils over, and I pause my slamming to begin to squeeze. I don’t know what I’m expecting to accomplish by doing so, as I know damn well it takes over five hundred pounds of pressure to crush a human skull. I try regardless. I want to feel this fuck’s brain matter splatter between my palms before I stop my assault. He’ll never touch my woman again; I’m going to make sure of it if I have to take him apart, piece by piece, with my bare, bloody hands. He will never hurt her again. No one will. She’s mine.

His skull gives, as the sensation of bones fracturing carries through my palms. It’s enough to have the red haze of rageclouding my gaze begin to clear. Reality peppers in once more, and I find myself blinking several times, taking in the gruesome mess before me. What will Blair think of me now?

I told her I was a monster. Will she believe me now?

I stare down at Josef’s body, memorizing how his unmoving form looks. Blood surrounds him now; it’s poured from every orifice, it seems, his once white, billowy robes now stained to match the true nature inside him. The fact he found Blair, showed up here to hurt her, and tried to burn the club down, has me sitting in blank silence. I’ve never wanted to kill someone so ruthlessly as I did with this man. It has to mean something, right? I didn’t do this for me but for her.

“Tyrant,” is said in shock from my doorway, stirring me from the stupor I was momentarily caught up in as I cataloged everything I just did. Havoc comes to stand beside me. “Is she…?” he asks, and it hits me that Blair isn’t tugging on me to stop. She’s not screaming in disgust. She’s not beside me, kicking and slamming her tiny fists against this piece of shit in outrage. I glance up, meeting his stare, before my eyes move to the woman lying still in the middle of my floor. Her dark hair spanning out behind her seems darker than usual against the oversized round rug I have running around my bed. She lays there, a porcelain doll, perfection in a world full of darkness.

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