Page 103 of Massacre
Chapter Forty-Two
Reaper
“King, I know this is your club, but you really need to let me take over,” I said, checking my guns.
“Just get that motherfucker out of my club,” the president of the Silver Shadows said, slamming a clip into his own weapon.
Nodding, I headed for the door.
My demon was screaming.
It wanted blood.
Walking out of church like I owned this motherfucking establishment, I didn’t bat a fucking eyelash when that large fucker walked into the clubhouse dragging the young prospect by the scruff of his shirt before throwing him on the ground. Scrambling away, the kid bolted for one of the club brothers.
I stood my ground as he scoffed, sneering at the clubhouse before him when his eyes landed on mine. If he wanted a fucking war, then so be it because before he left this fucking clubhouse, I was going to gut him from dick to pie-hole.
For years, I’d kept a promise that wasn’t mine to keep all because my Pops didn’t want to ruffle feathers. Well, I wasn’t my Pops, and I didn’t give a fuck whose head I had to bash in.
I was done fucking around with the Brotherhood.
They wanted a fucking war, then so be it.
I could feel the demon inside me stirring, its hunger growing as the tension in the room thickened. I took a step forward, my boots thudding against the wooden floor, each step a declaration of war. The Brotherhood thought they could control me, that I’d fall in line like my old man. But they didn’t know the depthsof my darkness, the extent of my thirst for their blood. I was a different breed, and today, this fucker would learn that the hard way.
As the prospect scurried away, I locked eyes with the large fucker who dared bring this war to the Silver Shadows’ doorstep. I smirked, my lips twisting into a cruel grin. “You picked the wrong motherfucking clubhouse, Morpheus. The Silver Shadows are protected. Fuck with them and the Golden Skulls will ride.”
Morpheus challenged, “Steele know that? Last I checked that fucker was in bed with the Death Dogs, and from the way King is hiding behind your skirts, it makes me believe that pussy ain’t got the balls to speak for himself.”
King snarled and stepped forward. “This is my motherfucking house, Morpheus. What the hell do you want?”
“Well, would you look at that.” The fucker smirked. “He does have balls after all.”
Several of the Silver Shadows growled.
Morpheus threw his head back and laughed. “Fuck me, you lot are fucking funny.”
“Then let me in on the damn joke, because I’m not in the mood for small talk,” I demanded as the fucker’s smile evaporated.
“Where the fuck is my son?”
“Tracking Yuri Nikitin,” I admitted.
Slowly shaking his head, he sighed, looking around the clubhouse, taking in each face almost as if he were memorizing them for later, when his eyes landed on a particular brother. Turning, I watched as Navigator, the Silver Shadow tech brother, shrank into the background behind another brother.
“Tell me, King.” Morpheus grinned. “You vouch for this lot?”
“I’d kill for them.”
Morpheus nodded. “Guess that’s something. Let’s go, Massacre.”
“What?” my brother gasped, looking at me as Reggie and I stepped in front of him.
“He’s mine, Morpheus. You want him, you’ll have to kill me first.”
“Then we have a bigger fucking problem than my son. That shit for brains is still marked.”
“I died, you son of a bitch,” Massacre seethed.
