Page 11 of Rebels & Rejects

“Okay,” he agrees on a sigh. “I’m off. I’ll see ya later.”

“Have fun,” I call out just before the door slams shut behind him.

Luc is the reason I’ve fought so hard for what we have. He was only five when we ended up on the streets, and trying to look after him while keeping us both safe was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. His young age granted us nights in shelters I wouldn’t have gotten otherwise, but I had to do things I’m not proud of so that we could get by. I couldn’t bear seeing him go hungry any longer or continuing to run around in clothes several sizes too small with shoes that needed the toes cut out just so they fit him. These were all the reasons and justifications I needed to get through every back alley blow job, pick-pocketing people, and stealing food.

So, when Enzo first approached me with the offer of money for information, of course , I jumped at the chance. I was still too young to get a job anywhere, forcing me to take any cash-in-hand jobs I could find—which are few and far between and usually of the unsavory kind. Money in exchange for information was a lot easier and less degrading than some of the other things I’d had to resort to doing. It made a big difference until I was able to get a job in a strip club—one of the few places where you can actually earn enough to get off the streets and create a semi-stable home for yourself.

I get up on that stage every night and shake my ass so Luc can have a roof over his head, food in his belly, clothes on his back. So he can have the things he needs for school and the comic books he loves. So his life can be a little bit more normal than mine ever was.

It’s to ensure he has a better life than I have—a brighter future than I can ever hope for. That’s why I get up every morning and do what I do. It’s why I don’t piss off the Satan’s or try to find a lesser-paying job that would let me keep my clothes on. Wanting him to live in a better world than the one we currently exist in is why I don’t think twice when I’m draining the life out of some scumbag and pawning off their things. Luc is the reason for my existence, for every decision I make on a daily basis. He’s the only thing in this world that matters to me. I’d die for him. I’d kill for him.

Finishing off the last of my cereal, I dump my bowl in the sink with Luc’s before going for a shower. It’s Friday, and I have just enough time to squeeze in a few hours of sleep before needing to be at work. I’m on the day shift today, which means I have tonight off. The Satan’s go to Toxic on Friday nights, and while I’m not sure if I can approach Python there, I’m going to stalk him everywhere until the perfect window of opportunity presents itself again. I can’t let him slip through my fingers next time, and if tonight isn’t the night, then it’s only a matter of another day or two until I get my opening. From what I can tell, the Satan’s throw parties most nights. No matter what, Python will be nothing more than a decaying corpse by the end of the weekend.

***

I spend the afternoon trying out a few new dance routines in between serving customers. The day shifts are entirely different from the evening ones. Strip Tease is much quieter and the patrons more subdued, allowing us to practice new dance moves and show any new girls the ropes.

Once my shift is over, I change in the dressing room into a short red skirt, my thigh-high leather, heeled boots, and a black crop top, ready to hit Toxic and hopefully kill an abusive shithead. There’s no better way to spend a Friday night, am I right?

Toxic is a large club housed in one of the warehouses down by the old, deserted docks. It’s a popular spot on the weekends. Regardless of how broke the citizens of Black Creek are, they can usually still scrounge enough pennies together to get drunk on the weekend and pretend their problems don’t exist for a little while.

The heavy bass of the music vibrates through the street as I step up to the door, paying the entrance fee before I pass by the bouncers and into the club. Multi-colored strobe lights illuminate the dimly lit, ample, open space, and I notice that there is already quite a crowd on the dance floor, and the bar is packed. I do a loop of the room, spotting the Satan’s in the cordoned-off VIP section before moving to the bar and ordering a shot of tequila.

Downing it, I blend seamlessly into the crowd as I move onto the dance floor, swaying my hips and shaking my shoulders in time to the music until I find the perfect spot where I can hide among the other dancers while also keeping an eye on the Satan’s, and more importantly, Python. The man himself is lounging in the middle of his crew of idiots, looking like the king of his kingdom as he surveys the room.

I watch for a while as he and his buddies do lines of cocaine, harass waitresses, and drink their weight in hard liquor. In the crowded venue, I notice Python is never left alone. At least one of his little followers is always with him, and he never comes out from behind the separated VIP area, meaning it’s going to be next to impossible for me to get to him tonight.

I’m not one to easily give up, though, and I continue my pretense of dancing as the night wears on. As the hours pass by, the club only gets busier, and eventually, I have to accept that I won’t get to relish in spilling Python’s blood tonight. My thumbs stroke longingly over the hilt of the short blades hidden in the lip of my thigh-high boots.Soon,I promise them.

With a final glance in Python’s direction, I sigh and turn away. There’s no point continuing to stand here and watch him berate women and snort cocaine all night. Frustrated, I move over to the bar, figuring I may as well let my hair down and have a couple of drinks while I’m here. It is a Friday night, after all. If I’m not working, I may as well enjoy my night off. And nothing sayslet's have funlike another shot of tequila.

Chapter 5

After being gone for over three years, it’s weird being back here. Everything’s the same, yet entirely different. How can a place change so much? Or maybe it’s me that’s changed? The last time I was here, I was a member of The Feral Beasts, the most feared and ruthless gang that ran the streets. After I left and everything went sideways, I started seeing myself in a new light. Being away from Black Creek gave me some much-needed perspective. It enabled me to re-evaluate the man I want to be and gain some further clarity for what I want out of life.

I was barely sixteen when I joined The Feral Beasts. Nothing but an angry, confused, lost kid who thought joining a group of violent thugs would provide me with the structure and aggressive outlet that I needed. And it did... initially, but over time, I came to see it for what it was—a bunch of lowlifes who cared about nothing but themselves. There was no line they wouldn’t cross, and as they became more and more barbaric, I knew I had to get out. So when I saw my chance, I took it... even if it did result in me ending up locked up for two years. I haven’t once regretted it.

I’d never planned on coming back to Black Creek. After the shit that went down in Crescentwood, I was done with gang life. Prison also gave me plenty of time to figure out what I wanted, and you know what I came up with? Nothing. Not a single damn thing. The truth is, I have no fucking clue what I want in this world. I just know I want to be a part of something bigger than myself. The anger and vengeance that was coursing through my veins the day I patched into the Beasts are still there, sitting like a lead weight on my chest, dragging me down. So when I got Cain’s letter informing me of his plan for revenge, I knew I had to be involved. It’s what I’d been trying—and failing miserably—to do when I joined the Beasts. However, this time, I’m not a sad, lost, lonely sixteen-year-old boy. This war is as much mine as it is Cain’s, and I can feel it in my gut that this is what I’m supposed to do—even if it kills me. For Cain and Evie, but also for myself. I need closure. I need to come to terms with what happened that day and finally put it behind me so I can move on with my life.

I’ve been back in Black Creek for a month now, and it’s amazing how quickly I’ve fallen into the swing of things. Most of Cain’s crew is relatively new. He gave me the whole rundown when I first arrived, and I was shocked to hear how he’d ended up recruiting some of them. Rescuing them from a facility that trains children to be killers? It sounded like insanity to me, yet you only have to watch some of the kids he’s taken in—some of whom are barely eighteen—in the ring. They’re lethal machines, able to obliterate their opponent within seconds.

Cain dubbed me his second in command when I returned, and I’ve been kept busy ensuring we have a firm control over the parts of downtown Black Creek that are ours, sorting out the new premises we recently moved into and starting up a fighting pit in the shell of an empty swimming pool in a long-abandoned gym across the road from us. It’s been a huge success, with plenty of men—and even some women—coming to compete. Not to mention the outlet it has provided for the kids Cain rescued. They’ve quickly gained a name for themselves as being unbeatable in the ring, and people come from all over the city, and further afield, to fight against them, thinking they can win the title of victor—and the nice sum of cash we offer the winner. In fact, it has become such a popular attraction that we’re now looking to expand and set up another one, ideally in larger premises where we could fit in a bigger crowd—which is why I’m here tonight.

Glancing around the large warehouse, I can’t help but think how perfect this place would be. The vast open space lends itself nicely to what we have in mind, and there is more than enough space for a fighting ring, plus a large audience and even a bar. The fact that it’s outside territory we already own is just an added bonus. We’re not necessarily looking to take control of all of the downtown area. Still, it will undoubtedly make us appear as more formidable of an opponent if we occupy a majority of the city. Besides, we’re playing the long game with the Antonellis, so we may as well keep ourselves busy by taking control of what we can of Black Creek until we’re in a position to go after our real targets.

I’d been scouting out possible venues when I first came across this club. Looking at it from the outside, I had a gut feeling it would be perfect for our needs, but I needed to suss out the current gang in charge of this part of town before we could even make any moves to claim the land and the club for ourselves. So I’ve spent the last two days stalking them and finding out what I could. Once I’d confirmed they could easily be removed, I headed here, wanting to get the lay of the land inside the building before taking my proposition to Cain.

I lift my gaze to the large mirror hanging on the wall along the back of the bar. It gives me a perfect view of the VIP section on the far side of the room, where the current controllers of this part of the city reside, lording it up as they get trashed and put on a pornographic show for the rest of the club. The Satan’s Advocates are a relatively minor, disorganized street gang who own a sliver of land by the old docks—where this warehouse is located. The ports have been out of service for years now, ever since the Antonellis took charge of the Tideside Docks on the opposite side of the river and declared that all goods coming into the city had to go through them.

I don’t know much about the Satan’s, but watching them the last couple of days has me confident that they pose no threat to the Rejects. Our guys will easily destroy them. A thrill of excitement rushes through me at the thought of confronting a rival gang and taking another step toward achieving our ultimate goal.

The bartender sets a glass of whiskey in front of me, the clunk of the glass against the wood drawing me out of my thoughts as he moves on down the bar. Lifting the drink to my lips, I take a sip, grimacing at the taste. Damn, you’d think more than two years of no alcohol would mean I’m not picky about what I drink, but this cheap swill tastes like shit in comparison to the fancy stuff floating around Crescentwood.

I down half the glass because, regardless of how crappy it tastes, it’s still alcohol, and it’s exactly what I need tonight. Observing the Satan’s yesterday and today, and seeing the dilapidated state of their territory has not been fun. Just from what little I’ve noticed, I can tell that they are the typical, power-deluded, small-dicked assholes who try to claim every other street corner in Black Creek. They use their guns and abecause I canattitude to terrorize the people here, forcing them to do whatever they want.

From what I can tell, they have every business in this part of town paying them a protection tithe—a pretty common thing in any part of the city—nevertheless what these people really need is protection from the Satan’s. Only yesterday, I watched as one of them shot up a butcher’s shop before dragging the owner's daughter out of there. I followed him back to their clubhouse—which had been just several run-down houses on a derelict street—where he proceeded to shove alcohol and drugs down her throat before fucking her and moving on to the next thing that caught his eye. I made sure I got the girl home in one piece, but I nearly blew my cover just to go in and rescue her. That shit is not fucking okay. I wanted to slaughter every single one of those assholes there and then. But we need to do this the right way, with the full force of the club, so we can make a statement to anyone who might think to rise up against us and properly claim Satan’s Advocates territory as our own.

With my drink in hand, I turn in my stool to peruse the room. For the most part, the club is full of regular everyday men and women who are just trying to have a bit of fun on the weekend. A loud roar of laughter draws my attention to the VIP area, where several booths are overflowing with raucous Satan’s members. I’ve been casually keeping an eye on them since they walked in. From what I can tell, their lewd behavior is just more of the same as it was last night. Drugs and girls, just in a different location.

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