Chapter Twenty-Three
SAIGE
It’s pretty ironic that I’m the only female here who can actually fight—better than most of the men—yet I’m the bait. I relish the look on men’s faces when they see their demise was brought to them by a woman. The weaker sex, my ass.
The moon hangs low, full and bright in the sky as I walk down Amberwood’s Main Street, just as I have the last four nights.
Two drinks at a bar, served to me sans alcohol by a prospect moonlighting as a bartender at The Starlight, then walking down Main Street and back to the small motel I’m staying at.
Rinse and repeat. Letting them think I’m comfortable when we know they’re here, waiting in the dark like the lowlife creeps they are.
But tonight feels different. Cold air nips at my skin as I pull my leather jacket tighter around my body, zipping it up to my collarbones.
All night, I’ve felt eyes on me, watching my every move, dark, foreboding, and uncomfortable.
The kind of feeling that makes your skin prickle, making you desperate to crawl out of it.
I make it halfway down the first block when I hear someone behind me, and I know without a shadow of a doubt, it’s someone from the Widowmakers. I don’t need to look back to confirm what my body is telling me. It sure as shit isn’t Camden stalking me.
Every muscle in my body is coiled tight, no fear anywhere within me, my heart a steady thrum beneath my ribs, Camden’s voice ringing in my head as I continue to walk forward, my boots clapping against the brick sidewalk.
“You’re strong, you aren’t alone anymore. I’ll have eyes on you the entire time. Let them think you’re the easiest target they’ve ever fucked with. Then unleash, baby.”
Feeling alone is something I’m gravely used to, but vulnerable?
Something I’ve never allowed myself to be.
I track a flicker of movement across the street to my left, nothing more than a shadow slipping through, but I tense, especially as headlights cut through the darkness, headlights that grow brighter and closer, a motorcycle engine roaring to a stop a few feet away.
Boots on the pavement echo, moving in on me from behind, the shadow to my left coming out into the open.
The bike is all black, sleek like a panther on the prowl.
The rider dismounts, taking an irritated look over my body.
It takes all my effort not to roll my eyes.
“Well, well, well, if we don’t have the Willow Killer out here in the middle of the night by herself. I thought you’d know better than to be out here drinking at night all alone.”
I force a smile at the idiot running his mouth in front of me, his hubris much too large for his short, stubby body. I inch my hand toward the small knife tucked into my jacket, keeping my voice steady.
“That’s cute, you think I’m scared of some big bad boogeyman?” The short man in front of me smirks, but his eyes, dark and calculating, narrow as the three men start to circle me. I can feel them watching me, waiting for their moment to strike.
“You think you’re some kind of hero, little girl?
Out here trying to play the game with the big boys?
Got some big vision that you’re making the world a better place after each and every one of your kills?
” I can’t help it, I laugh, dark and maniacal.
Which, of course, pisses him off further and forces him to react irrationally—exactly what I want.
He lunges suddenly, grabbing my arm, twisting it behind my back in a painful hold, his breath hot and rancid on my neck. My pulse spikes for a split moment as the other two imbeciles move closer, the weight of them closing in palpable.
“If you want me that badly, you’re gonna have to try harder than that,” I taunt as I jerk against his hold, my grip on my small knife tighter than before.
The man just laughs, tightening his grip on my arm.
It’s a pathetic position, really, and one I have no doubt I could easily maneuver my way out of, but that isn’t the plan.
“I’m not here for a fight, beautiful, but you know what?
Maybe I’ll have some fun between your pretty legs first.” He starts to drag me into the alley, and I brace for the fight I’m going to have to have here.
There’s no way I’m about to be gang raped in an alley by three dumb fuckers who have no idea who they’re messing with.
The light of the moon slowly starts to diminish the farther we get from the street, the three big bodies blocking out any light that could leak in.
Fine by me, darkness it is. The man shoves me against the brick wall hard enough to make me involuntarily gasp for breath, but I don’t lose my wits or control.
I spin around quickly, coming face-to-face with Pestilence’s replacement, a sorry excuse for one, I might add.
“He begged, you know. Pestilence. Your beloved, wicked president. He begged and pleaded while he held his throat in his hands as he bled out and drowned in his own lifeblood. Ironic really. The very liquid that keeps us alive filled his lungs and killed him. It looked painful, but I’m sure you figured as much when you found his cold, dead body. ”
The slap comes hard and fast, rattling my head as my neck snaps to the side from the force. “You stupid bitch. Do you know what you’ve done? The war you’ve started?”
“You mean the war he started. He attacked Hell’s Heathens.
He killed and raped innocents, and you’re all involved in fuck knows what else.
And you? You think you can just step into his shoes and pick up where he left off?
Well . . .” I laugh, wiping the blood from my lips.
“You’re mistaken. You’re all going to die tonight.
Every. Single. One. Of. You.” I punctuate each word, taking a confident, sadistic step in his direction.
He’s roughly my height, but he’s got me about double the weight.
The other two assholes stand at the exit, their evil, soulless eyes watching, beady and empty as the night.
“You keep wishin’ that, bitch. It’s you who’s gonna end tonight.
” I smile at him, brightly and without restraint, as I move quickly, the blade of my knife stabbing into his carotid artery and pulling out before slashing it across his throat.
Just like every other time, his eyes widen in shock and horror, but he doesn’t put up a fight. Disappointing.
“Like I said, you evil piece of shit, you’re all going to die tonight.” I kick him hard in the chest and watch as he tumbles over, gurgling and silently gasping for precious air that he isn’t going to get.
“Fucking get her!” a man with a shrill voice yells from the entrance to the alley. The two men advance on me while I stand there and flip my knife in my hand. A low growl echoes through the darkness, deep and demanding, a cocky smile playing on my lips.
“Oh, oops! Did you think I was alone?”
“Touch her and it’ll be the biggest mistake you fucking make,” Camden’s voice thunders through the alley as the men freeze.
The air seems to hold its breath as my heart skips rapidly in my chest. The man in front of me isn’t Camden, the sweet, tender man who cherishes and loves on me; this is Chaos, the President of Hell’s Heathens Motorcycle Club.
Camden steps into the moonlight, his stance broad, his eyes wild with fury. The rest of the crew should be breaching the Widowmakers’ gates as we speak, while Camden and I take down their new president and their crew. Camden looks at the two idiots, ready for blood, ready for vengeance.
“You really think you’re gonna win this? Someone else will just step into their place. We’re too strong, too established. You’re outnumbered, Chaos. Hand over Amberwood, and maybe we’ll consider letting your pet here live. After we pass her cunt around our men.”
Camden’s resulting smirk is deadly. Lethal. Much like him. Before the man can react, Camden is on him, moving at a speed that leaves no room for hesitation. His fist flies into the man’s jaw, his foot kicking into his gut, sending the man reeling, hunched over.
Three more men file in from the other side, and I roll my eyes in irritation. I was looking forward to watching Camden fight, the way his ripped, muscular body moves and curves, the power behind each blow, the way he grinds his sharp jaw when he focuses.
Camden easily takes him down, kicking him in the face as he crashes to the ground.
The other man lunges for him as the sound of boots pounds on the pavement from the other side of us, the sound echoing through the alley as the rest of their crew surges forward.
I guess I’m back in the fight. Annoying.
I don’t hesitate as I whirl around, the two men advancing on me.
Luckily, they don’t seem to be packing anything other than their fists.
Let’s see if they know how to use them. I close my fingers around the knife, swinging it sharply as the first man reaches for me, the blade slicing across his arm.
He staggers back into the other one, cursing.
“Really? It’s barely a scratch,” I jest as I lunge forward, stabbing him hard in the throat several times.
Blood sprays violently in my direction, covering my face and neck.
Bile turns in my stomach as I nearly wretch.
He collapses quickly to the ground, the other man taking his place, rounding on me, putting himself between Camden and me. Not a good idea, buddy.
For a brief moment, Camden’s eyes meet mine, and everything goes quiet.
His gaze softens, just enough that I can see the fear and worry etched into his features, no matter how tightly he’s trying to keep it locked down.
The two men are dead at his feet as he takes silent, purposeful steps in my direction.
“Such a pretty little thing, shame I’m gonna have to kill ya. Maybe I’ll fuck you while you bleed out.”
“What is with all of you evil men and rape? Does it make you feel big and strong to take someone against their will? Can’t get anyone willing?
I’m sure there are plenty that would jump your bones.
You’re not a bad-looking dude, well, if it weren’t for all the missing teeth and patchy facial hair. Maybe just shave it off?”
“The fuck are you going on about, you fucking bitch?”
“She’s got quite the mouth on her, doesn’t she?
” Camden says, now right behind the mindless idiot standing between us.
The man starts to spin, but he’s too slow, and Camden slices his blade across his throat from ear to ear.
I don’t bother watching, it’s always the same.
I should probably find a new way to kill them if I’m going to keep doing this.
The man crumbles to the ground at our feet, and then I’m standing in front of Camden, blood coating his hands, his face blooming with a bruise that surprisingly wasn’t from me. He’s looking at me like I’m the fucking sun and the moon, my heart kicking up in my chest.
I want him.