Page 7 of Soul of the Chaos

I’d ridden out my first and only Chaos with my pack. All I’d felt during that hellish week was the need for blood, and the constant, painful urge to fuck. Sweetbutts had their uses, but it took me months to disentangle myself from the trio who I’d hauled into my den and fucked for seven days straight. They got ideas when you kept them around for that long.

Speaking of which, what was holding up our inside man?

I was about to bark at Mongrel to text his cousin when there was a flicker from a broken window on the second story of the clubhouse where the dying rays of the sun hit a mirror. About fucking time. The signal sent a thrill through my veins.

Darkness immediately surged through the pack bond, answering my animal’s thirst.

“Go time, brothers,” Mongrel murmured in a soft growl which raised the hair on the back of my neck. “You have five minutes to get into position.”

I rolled my neck, popping the tension from my spine. My wolf was climbing the walls to take my skin, but first we had to get inside that clubhouse.

Prospects stood at the doors, arms crossed over their puny chests and all puffed up like they were important. In reality, they were the easy pickings left out for the slaughter. I felt less than nothing for them. They’d chosen their fate.

My men melted away to take their positions while I stalked after Mongrel and Silver. My Sgt. at Arms wove his fingers through his mate’s, and took us through the long shadows.

For now, we ignored the barns out back and closed in on the main building where all the action would take place. I ran my eye over the place with disdain. The dilapidated farmhouse was falling down around their ears, the old clapboard bleached and disintegrating on the nail. My eyes flicked to the holes in the roof. That would be a good place to hide a sniper, but we’d been watching for hours and hadn’t seen even a hint of gunmetal flashing from the shingles.

My enemies’ certainty of their place at the top of the food chain was laughable.

From a copse of long dead trees, we watched as the two guards out front horsed around.

“Fuck, this is almost too easy,” Mongrel grumbled. “Like taking candy from a baby.”

He fingered the knife clipped to his belt but I knew he wouldn’t bother to take it out. Mongrel was a hands-on kind of guy. What better way to sharpen your claws than on the throat of your enemy?

I checked my phone for the time and shrugged. Close enough. I shoved the phone back in my pocket. “What do you say, Sergeant? Should we have the pup dust off his routine?”

Mongrel gave me a feral grin and smacked Silver’s ass as the omega sauntered away, leaking distress from his skin like water.

“Fuck me.” Mongrel’s eyes went a silvery grey while he watched his mate limp toward the two men guarding the door. Appreciation blazed before he shook himself from his horny daze, “Show time, Prez.”

Pushing a partial change, my claws ripped through my nail beds. I grinned right back at my Sgt. at Arms, sharp canines distorting my mouth as a growl crawled up the back of my throat.

Sneaking up on the guards would be tricky. The trees and brush faded to nothing about twenty-five feet from the building. After that, it was all open ground. My boots kicked up dust with each step but our omega had us covered.

Silver was acting his little ass off, pretending to be hurt and looking for help. His trembling voice carried on the breeze as he played up the injury on his leg, dragging it behind him. Nothing riled a predator more than wounded prey.

From their languid bodies and fixed attention, the assholes suspected nothing as their wolves imagined the taste of Silver’s blood.

For fucksake, didn’t Chains bother to even train his prospects?

Mongrel and I snuck up right behind them, our claws tearing through the flesh of their throats before they’d turned all the way round. The spray of their blood painted the bleached wooden doors bright red. After the blistering heat of the day, the dry wood was so thirsty for moisture that the gore was absorbed in moments leaving only a dark stain in its place.

Their bodies fell at our feet with a soft thump and puff of dust as they hit the barren dirt.

“Aw man,” Silver whined, wiping the blood off his face and neck with his black t-shirt and looking down at the fallen wolves. “That was just embarrassing for you, dickweeds.”

Taking one in each large hand, Mongrel dragged the bodies by the shoulders of their cuts and stashed them in the trees we’d been hiding behind. “Don’t jinx it, pup. We ain’t done yet.”

* * *

The inside of the clubhouse was just as shitty as the outside. Despite the whisper of a cooler breeze starting up, heat from the day still smothered the large open room. Sucking all the air from its surroundings.

Behind the beat up stainless steel bar, members and sweetbutts alike were slinging drinks in record time for the baying revelers who jostled and hollered for attention. Peeling posters of pin-up models plastered the walls. Still smoldering cigarette butts and discarded glasses littered any available surface. Underfoot, the concrete was sticky with a mixture of stale beer and other fluids best not thought about.

The stench of sweat, decay and bad deeds invaded my nostrils, further riling my beast. I waded into the crowd of unwashed bodies. Desperation wafted through the building like cheap perfume, forcing me to breathe through my mouth so as not to gag.

The last rays of sunlight faded from the dirt encrusted windows and a hush came over the bedlam around me.

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