Page 3 of Soul of the Chaos

“Sure thing, dawg,” I drawled.

The Prez didn’t make a noise but his retaliation was swift. A flick of his finger, nothing more.

Crack. The back of the VP’s hand on my cheek whipped my head to the side as Addy muffled a sob. After steadying my racing heart, I squeezed her gently in warning and she scuttled away to bury herself in Viola’s arms.

Picking up the collar with numb hands, I placed it around my neck. The world pressed down on my body like a black hole until nothing felt real anymore. Surely, this was a nightmare and I could wake up at any point? Surely, I had not just reduced myself to a slab of meat?

The collar felt dirty and alive, gleefully determined to choke the soul out of my body. Instinctively, my fingers gripped the leather, desperate to yank it away from my skin. But the heavy thickness wouldn’t budge.

With a smirk, Crusher—the pack’s soulless Enforcer—stalked to my side. He wrapped a coarse fist around my hair and yanked my head back sharply while I was scrambling to pull the collar away from my jugular. Attaching a thick chain to the eyelet at the center of my throat with a dull thunk, he spat on the ground at my knees and handed the lead over to the Prez.

“Get moving, fresh meat. Time’s a-wastin’. And I have a show to put on.”

Chains turned and strode away so that I was half-dragged from the room, unable to murmur a quiet reassurance or even get my feet properly beneath me in these fucking ridiculous heels.

My blood thundered in my ears as panic—blind panic—surged through my body. Taking hold of my last scrap of hope and shredding it. I could hear my fellow captives’ half-smothered whimpers—even a scream of protest pressed into a powerless fist—but it was too late for me.

So I closed my eyes, let out a sigh and got my body under control. One foot in front of the other, that’s all this next bit would take. Easy as pie.

GRIMM OBSERVATIONS

Grimm

I twisted my fist round the hand grip of my bike looking down at the encampment below. The Badlands were my least favorite place in Chaos Valley. It was crackling hot even close to sunset, and the dry air bit at my throat with every breath. Worst of all, there was no place to hide.

Dust—a shit ton of it—smothered everything as far as the eye could see.

The only things that grew here were scrubby grasses and pathetic excuses for trees. Hunched together in copses, they dotted the landscape. Forlorn offerings from the Gods which struggled to claw out a meager existence and offered little to no respite from the beating sun, nor any useful groundcover for our approach.

The Bone Crushers had the advantage. That didn’t sit well with me.

There was a dark hush on the air.

Discord painted the shadows with wicked anticipation, begging the wildness inside me to come out and play. For a moment, a vicious smile taunted my lips as the animal snarled. If the Bone Crushers had orchestrated all of this to trap me and mine, then my gun was plenty thirsty for souls.

Even though the Chaos had forsaken our kind nine years before, our animals felt the absence of the Blood Moon keenly. Their hackles raised by the turning of the cosmos and what was supposed to come to pass. My beast hungered for the mate that the Blood Moon Goddess should have bestowed on him, while my human side was more than happy with the status quo.

Not all matings were happy. And Fate was a cruel bitch.

The magic was like an oasis dancing on the desert, sinewy and restless with carnal promise as it stroked our base instincts. Then, once you’d dragged your desperate ass across the endless miles of barren soil, all you got for your troubles was a mouthful of sand. Leaving your soul parched and wanting.

“What do you think, Prez?” Mongrel was sitting back on the thick leather seat of his Harley, arms crossed over his chest as he fingered his beard with one hand.

My Sergeant at Arms was the very definition of confidence. Everything a leader should be in the moments before battle, rather than the sociopath I felt lurking underneath the thin veneer of humanity I wrapped it in. Mongrel might have looked the part of a raging maniac—with his thick beard and wild hair pulled tight in a messy bun at the back of his head—but, when unprovoked, he was a gentle giant. I relied on that cool head of his to balance my blood-thirsty beast.

I blew out a long breath and shoved my true nature down until I felt nothing. As President of the Soul Reapers MC about to embark on a dangerous mission, I needed to feel nothing. Tonight my wolf fought back, snarling and ripping at me with his claws, desperate to remain close to the surface. But I hadn’t become Prez for nothing. I was every bit as vicious and tenacious as the beast when I had to be.

I swept the scene, making a final survey of the dilapidated building that served as the Bone Crushers’ clubhouse and spat in the dirt. “They’ve got the six entrances covered.”

“Yeah. With like two guys,” Carbon scoffed, leaning his bike on its stand and giving the weapons strapped to his hips a fond pat. “And they look like they’ve got their dicks in their hands already. We’ll take them out easy, Prez.”

Carbon gave me a demonic grin and ran his fingers over his favorite gun like a lover.

“Quietly,” I reminded him. “We need to take all twelve down, then spread out in that building before anyone makes a peep. You saw the head count. Plenty of fuckers attending this shit show. Every single one of them is armed and has skin in the game, not just the Bone Crushers. None of them wants to get caught with their pants down. They’ll fight to keep it that way.”

Still fingering his beard, Mongrel nodded. His eyes were calmly running over the buildings below us, watching for new threats. I could feel the wheels turning as he assessed each entrance and the prospects standing at a sloppy kind of attention.

“So,” I turned back to my oldest friend. “You’re sure this info is good, right?”

---