Page 50 of Ruthless Reign

“I’ll make sure he rests,” she said.

Selene smiled. “Good. I’m glad you’re here, Jules.”

My wife gave my cousin a half-hearted grin, but it was time to go. We’d already waited too long, and I had to get in there to do my worst. I pushed to my feet and put an arm around Julia’s waist, half helping her walk, half guiding her out of the clubhouse and into the humid summer night.

“Will it be gruesome?” she asked, brushing her hand over the shirt I’d given her from the spare clothes I found in my truck. She’d been covered in blood, and we’d come straight to the clubhouse to regroup and deal with the fallout. Now, the white T-shirt swallowed her, making her seem small and delicate. But fuck if I didn’t love the sight of her in my clothes. It sent a possessive, territorial spark straight down my spine.

“Yes,” I said. “You really don’t have to come to this.”

“No. I need to see it done.” She took a deep breath and raised her chin in defiance. “Besides, we’re a team, right? We need to convince the rest of the club we can do this together.”

I wanted to scoop her up and take her home, to bury myself so deep inside her that nothing and no one would ever touch her again. I hated that I hadn’t had my phone on me when she needed me. I hated that someone had gotten close enough to hurt her. If we hadn’t gotten there when we did, it could have been so much worse.

The Roses’ clubhouse sat on a huge piece of property that had luckily been transferred to me in the weeks before my father’s arrest. A few hundred yards behind the main building sat a big barn where we did our dirty work. Once upon a time, Leo had been held captive in it for months. Now, the rest of my club had gathered to deal with the traitors who had tried to take out mywife. Would they have hurt Alba, too? I didn’t know. I’d like to think not, especially since she’d been part of our family for years. But they had gone all in with the Hell’s Knights, and they wanted to hurt us where it counted. If the men were the muscles of the Roses, the women were the heart and soul. Hurting them sent all of us into a rage.

I opened the wooden door and stepped aside so Julia could enter first, steeling myself against the smell. It used to reek like animals in here, but after the last few years of Doc’s handiwork, it now stank of old blood and rotting flesh.

Stallion, Reaper, and Lunchbox were on their knees in front of the fireplace, gags in their mouths, their hands tied behind their backs. Four other Roses had also assisted them, but they’d been casualties of the shootout. Too easy a death for my liking, but at least these three conspirators were here to face the club’s justice.

Doc stood next to a table covered in his tools, his hands bloody and his forehead sweaty. Wheels and Thor were off to one side with Leo, Saint, and Hollywood on the other. The rest of the club filled in around the perimeter. KC, bless him, must have already blown off some steam. His knuckles were bloody and his white T-shirt was covered in fresh crimson. Judging by the amount, it probably wasn’t all his own.

At our entrance, everyone turned to face us, all eyes expecting my wrath.

I steeled myself against what I knew I had to do, taking a deep breath so I didn’t back down. My father had always told me if a man was going to pass judgment, he had to be the one who carried out the sentence. Doc was our enforcer; he usually handled traitors. But this was personal, and I had to do it myself.

“Wait here for me, okay?” I kissed Julia on the temple, and she nodded, going to stand next to her brother. Which was good. He’d keep her strong through this. It wasn’t going to be pretty.

I walked up to Doc, ignoring the twinge in my shoulder and the ache in my side. He laid down his scalpel and glanced up at my arrival.

“What’d you get out of them?” I asked.

Doc rubbed bloody fingers over his forehead and brushed his hair out of the way. “Not much. But there’s not a lot to tell. It’s easy to guess what happened.”

“Hmm.” I grunted and looked at the three traitors lined up on the ground. Stallion and Reaper stared back at me with hatred and anger in their eyes, but Lunchbox shook like a little bitch. I didn’t know if it was adrenaline withdrawal or fear, but either way, he’d be the one most likely to run his mouth. I grabbed the machete off Doc’s table and walked toward him.

“You know, I’m disappointed,” I said, twirling the weapon around. “I would have thought you’d have the balls to come afterme.”

Stallion snorted and Reaper rolled his eyes, but Lunchbox trembled harder. Now that I was closer, I could see that Stallion and Reaper had been beaten, likely by KC. They had patches of skin missing from their hands, and looking over their shoulders told me Doc had torn off the nails from all their fingers and toes, the psycho motherfucker.

“Going after our old ladies?” I shook my head and stopped in front of them, holding the blade up to run a finger over it and prove how sharp it was. “That’s low—even for cowardly motherfuckers like you idiots.”

Stallion groaned, but it was Reaper who tried to come after me, pushing up on his knees so he could attempt to head-butt me. I leaned out of the way and KC grabbed his shoulders to haul him back into place. Doc and Saint moved behind them to keep them detained, but I glanced at KC before continuing. The wrath and confidence in his gaze told me I had to keep going, that this was the right thing to do.

“Cut him loose,” I said to Doc, gesturing to Reaper.

My brother furrowed his brows. “What?”

“Did I stutter?” I nodded and grabbed a cinderblock from next to Doc’s table, sitting it down in front of the traitor. “Cut his hands loose.”

Doc grumbled something to himself before doing as I asked, and the moment Reaper was free, he launched at me again. KC and Saint grappled for his shoulders, but his reaction was exactly what I wanted. I grabbed his wrist and draped it over the concrete, tightening my fist around his forearm.

“Hold him steady,” I told my brothers. KC and Saint complied, leaning their weight on Reaper, keeping him in place despite his wiggling. “Listen to me, you piece of shit. You see that woman over there?” I pointed to Julia at the edge of the crowd, her hands clenched into fists, her face set in a stoic mask. “Mine. And if you touch what’s mine, I take your fucking hand.”

I raised the machete high in the air, only to bring it down in one harsh slice right on his wrist joint, separating his hand from his arm. The crunch of bone echoed through the weapon, and blood spurted all over my shirt and the floor. My shoulder twinged and something snapped in my side, likely a popped stitch. Selene would kill me, but fuck it. This had to be done.

Reaper screamed, struggling against my brothers, and when I shoved his arm back at him, he collapsed on the ground, clutching the wounded limb to his chest. Yeah, it was gruesome, but I had my father’s temper. And right now, nothing in the world would put a stop to it.

Lunchbox cracked like an egg. He cried and screamed, mumbling something behind the gag.

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