Page 38 of Steel

This club is my blood, so for that reason, I give my sweat, bones, and soul for my men. A weapon is a cop-out when my father and grandfather sacrificed their lives for their brothers.

At the end of the day, I’m not Jameson.

I’m not even Steel.

I’m the flowers on the grave. The memory of what once was. Here to honor those who came before me and to pass that tradition on.

Iama Twisted King.

Not by choice, or patch, or oath. But byblood.

There’s nothing more important than my brothers.

My club.

But when I look into Banks’s eyes, and I’m reminded of the fear that flooded Tempe’s gaze when he choked her—when her eyes started to fade out—I snap.

I don’t know if it’s for my men or for the little thief and her brother, but I grab Banks by the throat and tighten my grip with all I have.

“Who sent the girl to my club?” I slam my knuckles into the side of his face so hard his eyes roll back. “Who?”

I loosen my grip just enough for Banks to choke on a breath. “Fuck off.”

“Wrong answer.” My grip tenses and his eyes bulge.

Spit trickles from the corner of his mouth as his cheeks turn bright red.

Rearing back, I slam my fist into the side of his face again, ripping open an already angry gash on his cheekbone.

The punch is hard enough that I almost lose him, so I have to slap his face and wake him the fuck up. There’s no sleeping through this.

Not until I’m done with him.

Banks blinks, coming to, and I grab him by the throat again.

“You feel that, Banks? That burning in your lungs? It’s spreading through your chest, isn’t it? Your eyes are pushing against their sockets like they’re going to explode.”

I allow him one gulp of breath before doing it all over again.

“I could do this all night. Want to know why?” I lean in, not releasing him for an answer. “Because you fucked up. And it wasn’t even for patching into the wrong club. Or being loyal to a shit leader. It’s because you tried to take what’s mine.”

From all around, I feel the guys watching me, weighing what I said. But I don’t take it back because it doesn’t matter if Helix betrayed us, Tempe is the blood of the club.

My club.

“How does it feel struggling for air like she did?” I press my thumb to his windpipe, and his mouth widens as he searches for breath. “How does it feel to be powerless? Because only a cunt uses an innocent woman as a shield and is willing to threaten a kid.”

My fingers ache, but I don’t let up. I watch the tears spilling from Banks’s eyes and appreciate every drip of spit dribbling from his lip as he chokes for air. Hedeserves to reap what he’s sown, and when he’s laid to rest in this unholy ground, he’ll pay for his earthly sins.

“Steel, you’re losing him.” Soul takes a step forward, but I don’t let go.

I didn’t walk in here to torture him. If he was going to give up information, he’d have done it for my men.

I’m here to end this piece of shit. To remind the world what happens when they fuck with the Twisted Kings.

Banks’s cheeks turn a shade of red that reminds me of the Painted Desert. A shade I appreciate as he stares me down through the last seconds of his life.

To the earth, we are born, and that’s where our bodies all eventually return. But our souls are another story, and as the last twitches of this asshole’s miserable life start to fade, I watch with hope that he’s descending to hell.

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