Page 1 of Creed's Vengeance

If anyone wanted to create a reckoning within the underworld, well, attempting to murder the god of the underground and his son would do it.

I was controlling the maddening of bikers—barely. The mother chapter members who weren’t injured or had been discharged from the hospital weren’t even the main ones pacing for a revenge hit. No, it was every biker that had a Satan’s Bastards patch on their back. Every chapter within the state had rolled into the small town within days.

The men wanted blood.

Hades was like a god to most of his members. He was their shepherd, helpin the lost, and Satan’s Bastards held a lot of lost souls who had found peace and life wearing a cut and being led by Hades.

I was meant to be patched as vice, but the north had to be dealt with before I stepped across to the mother chapter. So right now, I was the acting president of the mother chapter. In other words, I was stopping every member from being reactive to the situation.

Lighting up a cigarette, I stared at Holly as I put the smoke between my lips. I dropped the cigarette packet and lighter, then grabbed my vest. My eyes ran over the president patch on the front, which had never felt so heavy.

I shrugged it on and adjusted my holsters underneath, clipping my final Glock into place as I walked to the bedside. That was when I heard it; a sharp inhale. I looked at Holly and walked toward her. I saw the tears in her eyes as I knelt beside the bed. My hand went to her cheek, wiping away her tears just as they fell with my thumb.

Her gaze moved to mine, and I knew deep down she wanted yesterday to have not happened.

“I need to head down, darlin’, and handle the chaos,” I said softly, keeping my eyes locked with hers. My hand paused on the side of her face, cupping her cheek as tears ran from her beautiful eyes.

I knew the men were waiting for me to tell them, once again, to reel the anger in. Yet I remained, kneeling, beside the bed, watching as the woman I loved cried, and the worst part was I couldn’t stop the tears because the cause of the pain was out of my control.

A part of me knew that if I left her like this, she wouldn’t move for the rest of the day, yet at the same fucking time, I had to handle the club. I had to start piecing together who had done the hit and work out the direction we were heading.

Once again, I was torn between my love for Holly and the club needing me.

“Go.”

I looked back to her, and she smiled slightly.

“Go be the president the club needs,” she added, and then her hand went over mine. “I’ll be okay.”

I doubted she would be, but I didn’t know how to help her with her depression like Kobra and Hades did. I was out of my depth right now. But I knew I didn’t have a choice.

“I’ll be back, and if you need me, call me, or come find me, understand?”

She barely nodded her head, but I knew that was the best I was going to get out of her.

Kissing her forehead, I got up and left, heading out of the room.

What determined a bad man? Who was to say which man was a saint and which were sinners? It sure wasn’t God because if it were, he’d see the reasons behind the chaos and madness that drove those sinners’ decisions. Society often based a man’s value on their criminal record, but what if there was a record that recorded the reasons why they did what they did?

Don’t get me wrong; there were bad men out there—ones that raped, that raised hands to children, and committed cruel acts. However, not one man wearing a Satan’s Bastards patch was a bad man to the core.

They all had reasons behind what they did.

And after all, a criminal was only a criminal when they were caught and charged by police. That made us all wonder how many blue-collar criminals there were—uncharged and deemed as “good men.”

My father, brother, uncles, cousins, and the members of this club, all had reasons for why they were the way they were and why they made the decisions they did which led to actions and consequences. So as I sat here in the middle of Creed’s bed, watching the full moon, I couldn’t hold resentment toward my family for being in this situation.

My father stood by his beliefs, so much so that he was prepared to die for them.

The sound of the door handle moving made me turn to the side. I hadn’t left the room all day. For the most part, I just couldn’t face my father’s empire. He was prepared to leave me for this club, and I spent hours in anger.

Angry that he was a president.

Angry that he chose this life for us.

But most of all, I was just scared. Scared of the unknown but scared of what my future would look like without my family together.

The door opened, and Creed stood there.

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