Page 22 of Hades

It wasn’t difficult. People saw what was presented to them and didn’t look skin deep.

His mom, despite her give-a-fuck about him on any giving day, thought he was a caring boy for all he provided for her, when in fact her outbursts annoyed the fuck out of him and he kept her junked up for some peace and quiet.

Not to say he didn’t care about the woman who spat him out. Maybe he had something of a feeling in his hard-unforgiving chest for her, after all he did look after her, in his own warped way. Those drugs didn’t come cheap and he bought them religiously week in week out for years.

But as for emotions? He wasn’t ruled by them.

It was unfathomable to know he’d at no time been taught how to love, never shown an ounce of it from anyone in his miserable upbringing. Kyle was a goddamn emotionless husk of a man, hollow inside except for his driving ambition.

For as cold as Kyle was, he had a bank of fire inside for sheer and utter destruction. Call it payback. Call it a day out at the fucking zoo, he didn’t care, only that the fire burned bright and hot inside his ribs keeping him going, never stopping.

He could easily make-believe to put a person at ease, there was no other choice sometimes, especially if his monster was playing against him, violence wasn’t always the answer, so he had to pretend ordinary. Wearing second skins became as normal as breathing.

All the while he raged inside to crush people beneath his boot, because as far as Kyle was concerned, he was the only mean bastard who knew what to do and to do it well.

He wasn’t known to delegate at all.

And patience now was not his default setting. He fucking hated relying on people, truth be told. Incompetent dickheads most of the time who needed their hands held to achieve anything. Hand to God it takes some endurance not to slaughter most of his lackeys some days.

For those first four years he slogged his guts out every day, around the clock sometimes until his body was dropping from exhaustion. Dirty nefarious jobs he had to do to drag himself out from the gutter making enough money he established himself as someone you didn’t mess with.

And finally.

Finally, he’d gained some notoriety. People in his town were afraid of him. They feared what he could do, what he’d done already.

With his fingers in many illegal pies, whorehouses, drugs and firearms among the top of his list of earnings, there was nothing he wouldn’t turn his hand to if it profited him.

It was the eve of his twenty-fourth birthday and he was looking at a warehouse on the outskirts of Westbank Falls. The Renegade Souls had too big of a hold on Armado Springs, making it impossible to align in the same breathing space as them, he’d upped sticks and moved one town over, just far enough to throw the middle finger and enough space to establish his own reign.

He heard word Rex hated Kyle making roads in the MC world.

Which meant Kyle was more than thrilled.

It was good to lead.

And hadn’t he learned at the hand of that stern bastard, so he knew what to do with a bunch of men looking for their place in the world, just like he was.

“Whatcha think, boss?” Queried T-bone, shuffling off to his right, he kicked over a crate and rats scurried out having been evicted from their home. Nice. Kevin Timebridge, was his right-hand man, somewhat annoying, but hey, he needed a bitch to fetch and carry out his orders and this schmuck followed orders like a conforming bastard. The ugly scar he wore down one side of his face was courtesy of Kyle a few years ago when the guy spoke out of line. He’d been docile and obedient ever since. Maybe one-day Kyle would throw enough money at him to get those fucking hideously crooked teeth fixed. The man was an eyesore.

Boots scuffed as Kyle turned in a circle, his gaze taking in the high ceilings, the wide windows and the long corridors.

Plenty of space for what he needed. 10,000 square feet of real estate.

It was once one of those old as dirt mercantile stores run by a village idiot type and his family. It had stood empty for years, apparently, because it needed some restoring. If he bought it, this would-be Kyle’s one and only legit purchase, he either paid for it or let it go and he wanted this space for the club he envisioned for his future. A fuck hot of a club to rival all the other MC’s in the area.

Now, if he laid down some legal money at first, no one said what they did inside that building had to be legal thereafter.

“Not bad. The best we’ve seen so far.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Agreed T-bone. His hands shaking a little. Kyle noticed, his face morphed into pure fury, he grabbed the other man by the scruff of the neck, hauling him closer to allow him to witness the true monster behind the gray eyes.

In the last few years Kyle had taken to lifting weights like it was his fucking religion. Women told him he had arms like tree trunks and a washboard stomach they could bounce pennies off. He was built. Slightly obsessed with his larger physique now and so what if sometimes he took ‘roids to help bulk him out, he still put in the work to achieve the fighter body.

So, he was stronger than most.

Proving it when he nearly choked his go-to-guy. “What the fuck did I tell you about taking that junk, you whackjob?” nastiness dripped through his demand.

“I—I haven’t, boss? I told you—”

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