Page 24 of Reaping Havoc
The dungeon filled with Doyle’s cries and shouts of agony, but no one interfered as Hannibal rose off the ground, his dark robes covering his body as the ground shook beneath our feet. Hell was opening up for us, and we were about to give Lucifer a soul to devour.
“You failed to protect my daughter and granddaughter. For your negligence, I’m sending you to Lucifer. Enjoy Hell, motherfucker!”
Since I didn’t want to miss out on vengeance for Doyle terrorizing Nylah, I joined in. The two of us reaped his soul, enjoying the terror that spilled from Doyle’s throat before he was sucked into hellfire, and disappeared below us. His flesh burst into flames and then fell to the ground in ash, only to wither away into nothing.
A fitting end for a monster.
And some called us vicious. We’d never harm children.
“Hannibal,” Grim called as he watched our brother stomp up the stairs.
“Not now, Grim. I fucking need a minute.”
It was ballsy not to call Grim his title. He earned the right and respect as president, but Hannibal was hurting, and Grim understood. Wisely, he let it go.
Tomorrow in church, Hannibal would make it right.
MY PHONE RANG AS Ileft the clubhouse, throwing a leg over my bike before sinking onto the seat. It was much later than I intended. Nylah would be asleep when I finally crawled into bed, but she wouldn’t mind me waking her up with my head between her thighs.
Hell, we both loved it.
My cut vibrated as I felt an incoming call on my cell. I never looked at the screen, assuming it was one of my club brothers. If something happened, I wanted to know right away. Maybe Nylah wasn’t feeling well, or the twins had a nightmare. Any of those were reasons to answer on the first ring.
“Hello, Ian.”
Ian. My real name. Not my road name.
Fuck.
“Who is this?”
The unfamiliar voice didn’t answer but asked another question instead. “Do you know that Nylah wears the cutest pink pajamas in bed?”
What. The. Fuck.
“You just made a deadly mistake, motherfucker,” I growled, my tone far too calm.
That was the Berserker. He skipped right past the Reaper with Nylah’s safety in question. No longer dormant since Doyle showed up at my house, he was ready to confront this threat.
“No. I think you did, Ian Azrael Braxton. She’s not safe.”
I roared into the phone, threatening to find and end this asshole before he could ever touch her.
“We’ll have our pound of flesh, Ian. If not from Nylah, it’ll be your daughter.”
For the first time since bonding to my Reaper, I felt genuine terror as it gripped me to the point that I could barely breathe.
“Keep them close.” Dark laughter followed. “If you can.”
He ended the call, and I nearly lost my shit. I had to fight through the need to punch something. Every muscle in my body tensed. It took a minute before I could regain control and wrestle to stand, pacing the parking lot outside The Crossroads.
Nylah was home. Safe. Four of my club brothers were there. My blood brother watched over her. No one could get to her.
Those thoughts finally managed to keep me from freaking out and doing something crazy. Oh, I wanted to unleash the Berserker and let him run wild. But I had to wait. I wanted him to be the one to end Gorbachev. For my family, me, my brother, and the bullshit we had to endure since our father’s death.
I had to double-check, though. That call rattled me.
Admitting that felt like failure.
