Fury (The Chaos Demons MC #5)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Fury

I try to prise my swollen eyes open, catching a glimpse of Chevy as his fist slams into my stomach. I wince, but not enough for him to notice. Pussy . “Untie me and try that,” I spit.

He laughs, stepping back and making way for his boss, Donnie Nelson, to stand before me. “You lost me a lot of money tonight,” he drawls.

“I fucked up,” I snap, tugging hard on my restraints. “Arrange another fight and I’ll stick to the rules.”

He’s already rolling up his shirt sleeves, and I brace myself for his onslaught, but right as he raises his arm, the door swings open, grabbing everyone’s attention. I can just about make out the Chaos Demons kutte, but my relief is short-lived when Pit steps closer. He loves to drag shit out, and I’m out of time. “Don’t stop on my account,” he says, grinning.

“Did you see what he fucking did out there?” rages Donnie. “Where the hell is your President?”

“I saw,” says Pit, casually leaning against the wall. “And if you want to speak with my President, Donnie, you gotta put in for a meet.” Donnie scoffs and turns back to me. “Before you continue,” Pit cuts in, “I should remind you that if you hurt one brother, you hurt us all.”

“He fucked the night up,” Donnie yells.

“And you’re pissed, I get that, but we all know Fury didn’t get his name for being a pushover. If your man couldn’t withstand the hits, you should’ve backed the right horse.”

I hear the click of a gun and groan. This is going from bad to worse. Pit smirks like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “My President would like to propose a deal,” he drawls. A deal? A fucking deal? “Fury will work the debt off, but from now on, there will be no more throwing fights where Fury is concerned.”

“You think your President holds any weight down here in my fucking ring?” Donnie bellows. “He can’t even come here and make the deal face to face!”

“Because Fury will fight for you. He’ll make you more money than you’ve ever made.”

I glare at Pit, but through the swelling, he doesn’t notice and continues to stare at Donnie, waiting for his next move. “And what if he doesn’t win?” he barks.

“That’s not an option,” says Pit. “Besides, aren’t we down here because he refused to lose? Do we have a deal or not?”

Donnie hits me in the ribs, and I cry out. It’s the exact same spot I was hit in the fight, and I’ve definitely broken a couple. I see Pit’s fist curl. It’s not in his nature to stand back and watch a brother get beat on, but right now, with a gun pointing at him, he’s got no choice. “Deal,” Donnie snaps, turning for the door.

Once he’s gone, Pit turns to Chevy. “You’re lucky your bitch ass has a gun,” he hisses. “Now, untie him and get the fuck outta my sight.”

I feel the rope on my wrists fall away, and I force myself to my feet, despite my ribs protesting, and square up to Chevy, who smirks. “One day,” I warn.

Pit grabs me by the shirt and shoves me towards the door. “Don’t you think you’re in enough shit right now?” he hisses.

We battle through the crowd gathering to watch the next fight and break out into the cool evening air, where Pit spins on me. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

I grin. “I wasn’t.”

“Axel is losing his head. You better get back there and face the music.”

Axel doesn’t let me speak until he’s hit me square in the face. “Fuck,” I hiss, cupping my jaw.

“You went behind my back,” he roars, pushing me onto the desk and pinning me there. “You crossed into Donnie’s territory, where you know we can’t fucking go, and then you fight in his club!”

“It was a lapse in judgement,” I admit.

Grizz pulls Axel from me, and I stand fully, straightening my shirt. “A lapse in judgment is shooting too much whiskey,” Grizz mutters, slapping Axel on the back as he goes to sit behind his desk.

“What were you thinking?” Axel asks.

“You got a death wish?” asks Grizz.

I stare down at the ground, cos if he looks me in the eye, he’ll see that’s exactly what I went in that ring with tonight. I was looking for an easy way out.

“Look,” says Axel, sighing heavily, “you transferred here from Nottingham to get a fresh start. You’ve been here a month and you’re already causing me shit.”

“Don’t send me back,” I mutter, cos the last thing I need is to face the music there.

“Then sort your shit out,” says Grizz firmly. “We don’t need a war with Donnie right now.”

“You owe him thirty grand,” says Axel, and my head whips up in surprise.

“He bet thirty grand on that streaky piece of piss?”

“Well, that streaky piece of piss happened to be his nephew,” says Axel. “You were told you’d get ten grand to throw that fight, and you didn’t, so now, you owe him.”

“I don’t have that kind of money,” I admit. “Not right now.”

“Lucky for you, he doesn’t want your money. He wants your time.”

“What’s that mean?” I ask.

“It means until further notice, you’re his new bitch. Be at this address at seven a.m. tomorrow.” Axel slides me a piece of paper with an address scribbled down. “And you’ll feature in his fights, which you’ll win. He’ll take a sixty-forty split, and if you don’t win, that’ll add on to the debt.”

“Are you fucking joking me?” I snap. “It’ll never end.”

“That’s the price you’ve gotta pay,” says Grizz.

“Or we could just end the stupid fucker,” I suggest.

“I’m not going to war with an organised crime gang because you couldn’t follow my orders,” says Axel. “So, you’ll keep your head down and get on with it until further notice.”

Grizz heads for the door. “Come on, I’ll drop you at the hospital to get checked.”

I groan. “Can’t I just see the club doc?”

“Nope, you can sit in accident and emergency for a few hours and think about the shit you’ve caused,” snaps Axel.

It’s two hours before I’m called through to be assessed by the nurse. Two hours of people staring at me and whispering because of the kutte, always assuming the worst.

The receptionist points to a room, and I step inside. The nurse behind the curtain is just putting on new gloves, and when she looks up at me, my whole world slows. I stare open-mouthed as she smiles wide. “Oh my god, Reese Northman?”

It’s been so long since anyone used my real name, it takes me a second to respond. “Xanthe May Hart,” I murmur, ignoring the way my heart beats wildly in my chest.

Xanthe

It’s been a long time, but I’d know that face anywhere, even with the bruising. The last time I saw it, my heart was breaking—not because of anything he did, but because he was moving away, and it was out of our control.

I break out of the trance-like stare we’re currently locked in and throw my arms around him. He hisses, and I immediately pull back. “Oh shit, sorry. Of course, you’re hurt, why else would you be here?” I ask, adding a laugh and running my eyes over his bruised face. “What the hell happened?”

“A long story.”

I frown. “And I have time, so lie on the bed and lift your shirt.”

He eases himself onto the bed and slowly lies back. “How have you been?” he asks.

I push his shirt up and arch a brow. “Broken ribs,” I confirm, “but you’ll need an X-ray.”

“How come you’re in London?” he asks.

“Stare at my face,” I tell him, leaning closer and shining a torch in each eye. His pupils dilate. “What happened?”

“I fight,” he says casually. “No big deal.”

“You lost this one, I take it.”

He smirks. “I never lose.”

“You’re telling me the other guy came off worse than this?” I ask, laughing.

“How have you been, Xanth?” he asks again, this time with that little lost boy look in his eye.

I gently run my hand over his cheek. “Good. How about you?”

“Good.”

“You’re in The Chaos Demons,” I note, staring at the club patch on his jacket. They’re well known around here, especially to us emergency workers.

“They keep me in line,” he says, a smile playing on his lips.

“And they keep us busy. It’s mainly just cuts and bruises,” I tell him, “but I’d like to have your ribs X-rayed.”

He’s already pushing to sit up. “I’m all good. Save the NHS some money.” I gently push him back down, and he smirks. “Still trying to be dominant, I see,” he says, and I feel myself blushing.

“Let me at least clean up your face.” I pull the bed light down over him and drag my tray of implements closer. I’m not ready for him to walk out of here without having properly spoken. I begin to wash out a cut above his eyebrow, and he winces. “So, are you married?” I ask.

He laughs. “No. You?”

I’m surprised at his answer. He’s good looking and has the personality to match. Even as a naughty teenager, he was funny and made anything seem possible. He always had girls swooning over him. “No, not married.”

He looks just as surprised. “You remember we made a pact, right?” he reminds me, and I laugh as I use gauze to pat the eyebrow dry.

“You were always making pacts and promises. How many girls did you promise to marry if they were still single by thirty-five?”

His smile fades. “Just the one, Xanth.” The look in his eye is so serious, I have to turn away to compose myself.

“Glue should hold this cut, but if it continues to bleed, come back for stitches.” I carefully glue his cut and hold it together for a few seconds.

“What time do you get off work?” he asks.

My heart slams harder in my chest as I glance at my watch. “In half an hour.”

“I’ll wait.”

“What for?”

“You,” he says simply.

“This is crazy, right?” I whisper to my friend and colleague, Julianna.

“Yes, but all the best things are. He’s just an old friend.”

I stare back at the cubicle where Reese is waiting for me. “But I’ve met someone.”

“You’re freaking out, Xanth, and getting way ahead of yourself as usual. This is just a catch-up. He might turn out to be a right knob, and you’ll be texting, asking me to get you out of there.”

I give a stiff nod even though I already know she’s wrong. I’ve thought about Reese Northman every day since the day he left me behind. “I’ve spent all this time looking for a man, and now, two come along at once.”

Julianna rolls her eyes. “I could think of worse problems to have.”

I slip my coat on and grab my bag. “I’ll text you later,” I tell her, air-kissing her cheek.

Reese is sitting on the bed staring at his mobile phone. He glances up when I tug the curtain back. “Ready?” I ask.

He nods, shoving his mobile away and following me out.

We find a late-night café just two streets away and take a seat. “The good thing about London is places like this,” I say. “You can never feel lonely when there are late-night cafés around.”

He smiles. “I guess not.”

“So, tell me where you’ve been.”

His hood is up, hiding part of his face, and I wish he’d take it down so I can see his expression properly. I used to know when he was lying or hiding something, and right now, I long to see whether his eyes are filled with pain when he recalls his movements or if he’s found happiness.

“From Manchester, I went to Liverpool, but the family there was too much, so I ran away to Nottingham. I got into some shit, ended up inside, and found the club. I came to London a month ago.”

My heart aches knowing he didn’t find the family he so deserved. “My mum always wondered where you ended up,” I say.

“Yeah?” he asks, smiling. “How is she?”

I nod. “Good. Really good. She doesn’t foster anymore. I had to convince her to take some time for herself after my dad died.”

“Shit, Xanth, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, it was sudden, so he didn’t suffer.” I take a breath. “Heart attack,” I add, “five years ago.”

“That’s shit,” he mutters.

“For what it’s worth, he regretted what happened,” I offer, not quite meeting his eyes, “just letting them take you away so suddenly.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “It was a long time ago.”

“What do you do now?” I ask, changing the subject.

“This and that,” he says, smirking, and my heart sinks a little. My parents fostered hundreds of kids, wanting them to have a good start in life. Reese didn’t work out, like lots of others, but knowing he’s following the same pattern of behaviour his own parents did is sad. “And you’re a nurse,” he states. “I always knew you’d be helping people.”

“You were good at that too,” I remind him.

He looks away, grabbing a paper menu and scanning it. “I’ve changed a lot since then, Xanth.”

“Maybe one day I can watch you fight,” I suggest, even though I hate all that violence.

“Maybe.”

A waitress bounces over, smiling wide at Reese. “Hey, Fury,” she gushes. “What can I get you?”

“Usual,” he replies. “And the same for my friend,” he adds, nodding in my direction. She scans her eyes over me dismissively and saunters off.

“You’ve been here a month and you’re already befriending the locals,” I point out, amused.

“She’s friends with someone in the club,” he replies.

“Fury?” I repeat the name she used for him.

“Road name,” he mutters.

“You never did like Reese.”

“It was my dad’s name,” he reminds me.

The waitress returns with two coffees and places them on the table. “I get off in ten minutes,” she says pointedly.

He gives a stiff nod, and she smiles wide and goes off to clear another table. The silence stretches between us, and I pull out my mobile to check for messages. There’s just one, and when I open it, I smile.