Page 2 of Vendetta
Tank scanned the street.He saw nothing.His bike was parked at the edge of the gravel drive, just beyond the reach of the porch light.He took a step forward.
A crunch of gravel behind him made him spin around, but it was too late.
A blunt object slammed into his ribs from the side, driving the breath out of him.He stumbled off the porch, hit the ground hard, and rolled, just in time to avoid a second strike.
They were waiting.Five of them, moving out of the shadows like wolves.Bandanas up, no colors.No names.But he recognized the size of one.The stance of another.
Cottonmouths.
Tank scrambled to his feet, reached for the Glock, but a boot caught his jaw, sending him reeling back into the side of his truck.They didn’t shoot him.That would be too loud, too messy.Eli didn’t want a corpse.He wanted silence.
“What’s this?”one of them said, yanking the duffel away and tossing it aside.“Planning a little trip?”
Another one spotted his gun and grabbed it as Tank wiped the blood from his mouth, bracing against the wheel well.
“Fuck you,” Tank muttered.
The biggest one cracked his knuckles.“Heard you were thinking about running.Can’t have that.”
A fist drove into his gut, punching the air from his lungs.Tank doubled over as another blow caught him in the jaw, another fist split his lip.The assault was fast and brutal, all boots, fists, and elbows.They didn’t speak or shout.They beat him down with cold, mechanical violence like they were taking out the trash.Tank tried to fight back, but he was outnumbered, and their betrayal cut deeper than any blow or knife.Their silence was the worst part.No one called him brother or tried to warn him.It was like he’d never been one of them.
The beating continued mercilessly.Someone ripped his cut right off his back.Spit hit the ground beside his head.“Piece of shit don’t deserve to wear it.”
His arms were yanked viciously behind him and bound with chain, cold metal biting deep into raw skin.Then gravel, the scuff of boots.A grunt of effort as they dragged him by the arms toward a waiting truck.Creep’s truck.
They threw him into the bed like dead weight, the ridged metal slamming against his ribs.One of them hopped up beside him, boot planted on his spine as the engine turned over and they rolled out slowly into the dark.
No words then, only the thrum of the engine and the rhythmic clink of the chain bouncing with every bump in the road.Trees blurred past.He lifted his head once, just enough to see stars above the canopy and a sliver of moonlight.It was the last thing he remembered before the truck stopped and the boots started again.
Eli’s voice echoed in the dark.“Brothers don’t betray brothers.”
Tank was barely able to lift his head, blood dripping from his mouth.“Since when is disagreement a betrayal?”he asked bitterly.
Eli didn’t answer.Just stared at him with cold, dead eyes.
“Standing up for what’s right makes me a traitor?”Tank choked out.
Silence was the only answer he was getting.
Tank fought them but by then it wasn’t much.Every movement sent flashes of pain shooting through his ribs, cracked and grinding with every painful breath.Blood streamed from a gash above his brow, hot and blinding, filling one eye until he could barely see.His jaw throbbed where a boot had caught him, and waves of nausea rolled through his stomach.His body screamed with every jolt, but he wouldn’t fucking beg.Tank gritted his teeth through the agony, rage and betrayal burning hotter than the pain ever could.
By the time they dragged him to the trees, the only thing Tank knew for certain was that the brotherhood he’d believed in was dead in Oak Grove.
Someone pulled a splintered crate over and shoved him up onto it.His knees nearly buckled, but they kept him steady just long enough.They looped a noose over a low-hanging branch of a huge, gnarled oak tree.Its limbs twisted upward like crooked fingers, and its bark was scarred and blackened in patches like it had survived both rot and fire.Standing alone at the edge of the clearing, it loomed like a sentinel to every dirty secret or dealing that ever passed through its woods.A crude wooden sign had been nailed to the tree trunk, the words “Price of Betrayal” were painted on it in crooked letters and blood-red paint.
Eli stepped closer.
Outrage surged through Tank’s chest, colliding with rage and betrayal until it all became one searing heat.His heart pounded hard against cracked ribs, and it was hard to breathe.Tank glared up at the man he’d once followed, feeling the last of his trust crumble like ash.The noose scratched his skin, but the weight of it was real.
Yet, at that moment, what burned hottest wasn’t fear.It was the promise he made at that moment.You’ll regret this.
“Tank’s dead weight.And this club don’t need dead weight,” Eli told his helpers.
They kicked the crate out from under him.
* * *
Everything went black.
