Page 23 of Massacre
The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.
I lunged forward, but Cash held me back.
“You son of a bitch,” I snarled, my voice low and dangerous. “You’re dead.”
King stepped forward. His face was like thunder. “THAT’S ENOUGH!” he roared, his voice like a whip. “Cash, take stupid to Patch and get him cleaned up.” Cash and the other brother dragged Romeo out of the bar, the kid shooting me a final defiant look over his shoulder.
I stood there, my chest heaving as the reality of what just happened sank in.
I had lost control again.
Reaper was going to kill me for sure this time.
Storming over to me, King got in my face. “What the fuck was that, Massacre?”
I said nothing as I stood my ground.
“I don’t know how the fuck you do things in your club, but that shit you just pulled won’t fly here. Romeo will be sanctioned for his part, but you are becoming more trouble than you’re worth. I know Reaper sent you here to do something and until I get to the bottom of it, you’re mine, asshole.”
The weight of King’s words hit me like a physical blow. I knew I’d fucked up, but hearing it laid out so bluntly still stung. I could feel the eyes of the club on me—some filled with disdain, others with a mix of awe and fear. I was the wild card, the loose cannon they both respected and feared. But at that moment, I felt only shame. I let my temper get the better of me, and now I’d have to face the consequences.
I turned to leave, my boots scraping against the floor, echoing in the tense silence, only to come face-to-face with Jingles, Big Ben, and Tank, who smirked. Standing my ground, I sneered, “You don’t want to do this, King. It won’t end well for you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I am the king of this motherfucking castle and I can do whatever the fuck I want. Show him to his new fucking room, boys.”
Chapter Eight
Amber
A scratching at the door woke me. Getting to my feet, I opened my door to find Kytten standing there. I wasn’t really in the mood to see anyone, let alone her. Upon seeing me, she quickly held up a finger to her lips, telling me to be quiet as she looked down the hallway. Curious, I nodded as she motioned for me to follow.
The clubhouse was quiet as we tiptoed down the hallway, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards. When we reached the end, she peered around the corner, checking to see if the coast was clear. After a moment, she motioned for me to follow her as we descended the stairs to the main floor.
“What the hell is going on?” I whispered as we reached the bottom. At my question, she simply turned and shot me a withering glare, shushing me once more, before heading into the kitchen. Once inside, she quickly walked over to the door to the basement and entered, leaving me no room to object.
I didn’t know what she wanted or what the hell she was doing, but the second my bare feet touched the cold concrete, she looked at me and said, “He needs you.”
“Who?”
She turned and pointed.
Caged, I saw him slumped against the slick, cold stone. The stench of chemicals and stale sweat clung to him like a shroud. His head, a bruised plum, lolled on arms knotted with corded muscle, a grotesque parody of surrender. The rough material of his jeans was dulled with the stain of dried blood. He wincedwith each ragged breath, almost as if it hurt to breathe. His mournful sigh echoed against the silence of the cell. His eyes, when they flickered open, held the dull resignation of defeat.
Rushing over to the cell, I glared at Kytten. “What the fuck happened to him?”
“What the fuck did you think was going to happen when he showed up? That everyone would be happy? It doesn’t work like that.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I seethed, trying to open the cell, but it wouldn’t budge. “Why won’t the door open?”
“What is she doing down here, Kytten?” he whispered hoarsely, glaring daggers at the petite woman. “Does King know what you’re doing?”
“I don’t take orders from King,” she snapped.
“Don’t do this, Kytten.” He winced, slowly getting to his feet. “She doesn’t know anything. She’s still safe.”
“The fuck she is,” the pixie snapped back.
“Someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on? What don’t I know?”
