Page 9 of The Savage Outlaw

Arms above his head, chained to a metal bar. His T-shirt bloodied and torn up. Jeans. No socks and shoes. Under him a semi-wet spot on the ground where his own piss would sometimes eventually drip after running down his own two legs.

His eyes fluttered and his head bobbed side to side.

“Wake the fuck up or I’m gutting you right now,” Priest growled.

The sound of Priest’s voice woke Fitz up easily.

“Thought I was dead, huh?” Priest asked. “Maybe I am dead. Maybe you’re dead too. Maybe this is hell.”

Priest lifted his fists and flexed his hands, cracking all of his knuckles without needing to touch them.

“Brother, we took a vote on theDoctor,” Slade said.

He had to get it off his chest. Out of respect for the club.

Priest looked back.

“That’s right,” Linc said. “We finally caught this motherfucker and we chained him up right here and we had to take a vote.”

“I never said to proxy my vote,” Priest said.

“You weren’t available to speak for yourself,” Cyrus said. “You know how it goes, brother.”

“Dr. Smile,” Priest said.

“It’s the right thing,” Slade said.

“Come on out to your party,” Cyrus said. “This fucker isn’t going anywhere. He’ll be kept alive, no worries.”

“Take him down,” Priest said.

“Priest,” Linc said.

“I said to take him down,” Priest said. “Let him fall to the ground. Let me enjoy myself here for a while. I won’t kill him. I give you my word. I’m not going to kill him. Go take a fucking vote if you have to. It’s my party… I’ll cut up a fucking rat if I want to…”

“Jesus Christ,” Slade whispered.

“This is on you,Prez,” Linc whispered to Cyrus.

“P-priest,” Fitz whispered in a dry voice. “Oh, fuck, man. You’re… okay. That’s good. I’m so sorry, man. It wasn’t… it wasn’t my fault. You know?”

Priest grabbed Fitz by the throat and squeezed for the kill.

“I’m not letting go until you unhook him,” Priest called out. “Unless you want to fucking attack me. Go for it. Hit me. Stab me. Fucking shoot me!”

Priest’s voice boomed throughout the garage.

Cyrus grabbed Linc’s leather cut and the two hurried toward Fitz. The rat’s face was already turning red with a touch of purple. That meant Priest had his grip locked in. The two outlaws quickly undid the chains that kept Fitz on his toes—literally.

For a second Fitz remained suspended in air, thanks to Priest’s inhuman strength as he held the rat by his throat. Priest then opened his hand and Fitz crumbled down to the piss stained floor.

“The vote is final, brother,” Cyrus reminded Priest. “I don't want you ending up on the wrong side of a vote next. The table is short as it is. We’re under a lot right now, Priest. Not having you around set us back too.”

“I know that,” Priest said. “I gave you my word. I’m not going to kill him. Death would be too easy for this piece of shit. Death brings relief. Death ends suffering. Makes no sense why people are afraid of death.”

Priest used his right foot and rolled Fitz to his back. He pressed his foot down onto Fitz’s chest with force.

“Smells like piss in here,” Priest said. “I guess this is, what, some kind of rundown bathroom? I assume there’s a drain under you, huh, Fitz-y?”

---