Page 9 of Savage Reign

I shook my head in disgust. Their club left behind a legacy of a useless president and debt.

That was all. What did they have to be proud of? Following Sebastian Cline wasn’t any better. The fucker was a dead man the moment he made it clear he had survived the massacre.

I was hoping I would run into him tonight, but a quick assessment of all the faces below told me none of them were Sebastian Cline.

Such a fucking shame. I would love to come face-to-face with the man who had been nothing but a fucking headache. I counted the men.

Seven that I could see. And only two were awake, but barely. And I was wrong. Several cases of beer littered the ground. They were probably all completely drunk.

It would be nothing to take them on. Only problem was I didn’t know if more would show up suddenly.

But I didn’t want to stand around and wait. Maverick always said patience wasn’t my strong suit. How well my big brother knew me.

I jumped over the railing and rolled as soon as I got to the ground, lessening the impact of my landing. I hadn’t made a lot of noise, but it was enough to rouse a couple of light sleepers. It didn’t matter much. I was on them as soon as I got to my feet, reaching behind me for the machete.

“What—”

I chopped the man’s head off before he could finish his sentence; the crunch of his bones breaking gave me none of the satisfaction I usually got. The man beside him tried to get up but wasn’t quick enough. A quick slash across his torso had him gasping, blood pooling out of him from where I had cut and onto those closest to him, waking them up. The fucker wasn’t dead, but I knew he wished for it.

The alcohol slowed them down, and I should have been fucking thankful, but all I felt was disgust over their lack of self-control and disappointment that this wasn’t more of a fucking challenge.

I stood and spun around when I heard a third coming at me. The machete sliced down the fucker's arm before he could even pull his weapon, his blood squirting out and hitting me in the face. The warmth of it was able to spark some excitement in me, but not fucking enough to help with the darkness. At this point, I didn’t think anything would.

He stumbled back, his eyes wide as he took me in, and I followed, jumping on him and bringing the tip of the machete down on his chest, right where his heart lay. His eyes remained open, even as life bled from them.

It wasn’t enough.

Not fucking enough.

I moved to the next one and the next. The ones who had been awake before but were still too drunk finally realized they were in danger. I could see one of them sloppily pull out his gun. I didn’t care.

He held it up and aimed at me, the loud bang ringing in my ear as the shot was fired. It skimmed my arm. A superficial wound. I turned to the man, the pain making me feel alive.

I smiled at him.

He panicked and tried to shoot at me again but missed. A third shot nearly got me on the side but instead ate at the drywall behind me. He threw his gun down when he ran out of bullets and tried to run away from me.

It took no effort or time to catch up to him, and I grabbed him from behind, slicing the sharp blade over his neck. The warmth of his blood dripped out and onto my arms. I let him go and turned to my next opponent.

I barely remembered killing them, but when the red haze of bloodlust finally subsided enough for me to think straight and take in the scene, all the men were dead, and I was standing in a pool of their blood. My boots made a squishing noise as I slowly walked out of the abandoned building, leaving the machete behind.

The logical part of me knew I should call for a cleanup.

Try to cover up all the evidence of me being there, though I doubt there was any.

All they had to go on was a bunch of corpses that could no longer talk.

And the darkness was still there.

Fuck me, but the darkness was still there.

I slowly moved to where my car was parked a small distance away, and got in, looking out to the space ahead of me.

Fuck me, but what the hell was I supposed to do?

This was fucking why I didn’t want Silas to bring home the club princess. This was why I should have killed her when I had the chance because now she had burrowed herself firmly under my skin, and I didn’t fucking know how to cut her out.

I would have skinned myself alive to get rid of her if I fucking could.

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