Page 79 of Deranged (American Street Kings 3)

“Don’t worry, little sis,” I heard the sound of his zipper, and my blood ran cold, “I’ll do better than all those men. I’ll make you enjoy it.”

“God, please. Glenn, stop,” I sobbed, trying one last time to struggle against his hold, but it was no use. I was that ten-year-old girl again, unable to fight, no match against the demons hellbent on taking me. Ruining me. Destroying me. Leaving nothing but dead butterflies in their wake.

Strong thighs kept me in place, a hand keeping my arms from moving when his fingers traveled up the inside of my thigh, like devil claws infecting my skin.

When I felt him drag his hard dick down the slit of my ass, I gagged, choking on my own cries. I was sure my tears had turned into blood, the way it ached in my chest, my stomach twisted in barbed wire while my body burned.

Trying to force my legs closed was my last desperate attempt to stop him, the skin around my wrists burning as fabric cut into my flesh while I struggled against the bounds.

But it was no use. I already felt him nudging against my entrance, his heavy body keeping me pinned down.

“Don’t do this,” I pleaded, out of breath. “Don’t.”

A cold palm flattened against the side of my face, forcing my head deeper into the mattress, making sure I wasn’t going anywhere.

“After this, you’ll be mine in every. Fucking. Way.”

The familiar burn started—the ache, the pain, the humiliation. I felt it, starting at the apex of my thighs as I felt my own brother on the verge of desecrating my body in the worst way possible.

“Jesus,” he whimpered, pushing his lips against my shoulders. “I get it now. I get why all those men came back for you night after night. I’m not even inside you yet, and I could come right now.”

“Oh, God.” I wept, the sheets already soaked with my tears. I tried to stop him somehow, holding my breath and pushing down hard to keep him from forcing himself inside me. But all I felt was the warmth against my legs as I pissed myself while my brother’s grunts started to fill my ears like devil’s breaths.

In those moments, I did what he had taught me to do. I turned it off. I became nothing, a void unable to feel a thing. I was that ten-year-old girl again, only this time I didn’t pray for someone to save me.

I prayed to die.

21

Onyx

Warm blood clungto my skin. Rage was pounding like a heavy metal song inside my head, my bones thundering against my flesh. Storming into the Python compound, the Kings and Sixes standing together, the way it had always been, just felt fucking right.

This was it. This was the day we’d been waiting for. The day my brother and I had been dreaming of since we watched our father take his last breath, courtesy of a Python blade.

There was no stopping us. It was war, and we were determined to win. But every time my bullets pierced flesh and the knife in my hand slit throats, all I saw was her. Her beautiful face, striking eyes, and lethal betrayal. The blade I used to kill these fuckers belonged to her. Such beautiful irony.

Even after her deceit came to light, I couldn’t help but worry that she might be here, that somehow she’d be caught in the crossfire. And my head still tried to make sense of why she never told Slither about me taking Granite’s place. My heart kept trying to convince my head that maybe she didn’t tell him because her loyalty had shifted. Her heart had changed—for me.

A guy could hope.

“Where’s Slither?” Ink yelled over the screams and grunts of pain.

“Fucker ain’t here.” A slimy Python came storming toward me from the front, but I saw him coming, and I jabbed my blade right into his gut, twisting the knife and feeling his warm blood gush over my hand. There wasn’t time for me to relish my kill, bask in the blood of my enemy. And since these guys wore the Pythons cut, they were scum like Slither, which meant they had to die…just like him.

Crow’s men circled a bunch of prospects, hacking away at them. The Sixes were our allies, but they were brutal. They were beasts, and they killed like savages—like motherfucking Vikings with huge-ass smiles on their faces.

“Where the fuck is he?” Ink searched around, and I could see the desperation on his face, the need to find the one man he had been waiting months for.

Looking to the right, I spotted a flight of stairs. “Yo, Ink. Up there.”

He nodded and rushed in that direction, and I followed. Granite, Dutch, and Manic knew how to take care of themselves. And with Crow fighting by their side, they sure as fuck didn’t need me or Ink.

Warning prickled at the back of my neck, and my instincts flared. I turned around, seeing a Python aim right at Ink’s back. Launching forward, I crashed into Ink, taking him to the ground. My jaw hit the edge of the stairs, pain thundering through the side of my face. But there was no time to shake it, catching the frame of a man coming toward us. His eyes were pinned on Ink, lips pulled in a snarl as he aimed his gun. Without thinking even for a second, I grabbed my gun, aimed, and pulled the motherfucking trigger.

The guy stumbled back, staring down at his chest, eyes wide with surprise. Why, I didn’t know. Fuckers around here should have known I never missed a goddamn shot.

He sagged to the ground, a corpse by the time his head hit the floor. Ink looked my way and gave a slight nod—a silent thank you between brothers.

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