Chapter 8
“CODE MISTAKE” CORPSE, brING ME THE HORIZON
I nurse the cup of coffee I brewed after catching a couple hours of sleep. I sit in my usual seat on the back porch, facing the woods. The sun is at the highest peak of the day, but the trees in my backyard block out the majority of its rays so I’m not blinded.
Sightlessly staring at the dense foliage as I wake up, I reflect on the last twenty-four hours during Hellfire Night. It’s a blur. It was a night full of torture and murder. But one thing stands out from the rest.
I wince at Aiden’s question from this morning replaying in my head like a goddamn broken record I can’t seem to stop.
“Would you fuck your sister?”
The answer is a strong no . I’d rather stick my dick in a wasp nest than do anything with Madison. Just because I stroke my dick to the thought of her doesn’t mean I forgot about her hanging out with those assholes in high school, or about who her piece of shit father is.
The back door slides open, drawing me out of my thoughts. I don’t need to look to know who it is. Hawk’s large, familiar form steps into my periphery and sits on the lounge chair beside me. He kicks out his legs, folds his arms behind his head, and relaxes with a soft sigh.
“Jaxon texted me earlier,” he says. “Mickey’s dead. The bastard went to Jaxon’s home and tried to kill him and Dahlia.”
My eyebrows rise up my forehead as I turn my head toward Hawk. He continues staring at the woods as though the forest put him under a spell too.
“Is she okay?” I ask.
I know Jaxon is fine. He’s always been the type to bounce back from any injuries. It’s his half-sister we all protect and worry over. It’s been that way since middle school.
Hawk smirks at me. “She’s fine. Jaxon killed Mickey with a sourdough she made earlier this morning. Can you believe it?”
“You’re shitting on my dick.” My imagination runs wild as I picture how Jaxon could have used the bread to kill someone. “How the hell is that possible?”
Hawk shrugs. “Don’t know. I didn’t ask, but I believe him. Jax has always been”—he tongues his cheek as he considers the right words for our best friend—“creative with how he hurts people.”
I nod, fully agreeing with him. Call him John Wick because that bastard can kill a man with a pencil if he really wants to. If anything, he surpassed the movie character by killing Mickey with sourdough.
“Do we need to do cleanup?” I ask.
Hawk nods. “Aiden is already on it, but we’ll need to join him soon. Jaxon doesn’t want Dahlia around the dead body, so he took her out on a date as a distraction.”
I can’t be mad at my best friend for protecting his girl’s mental health.
I first saw a corpse at the ripe age of seventeen when my stepfather took me to Hellfire Night to prepare me for what was to come.
A man ran toward him, and I’d held my breath, hoping he would kill my stepfather, but the barbed wire on Jerry’s bat sank into the man’s face and ripped it off in gnarly chunks.
When he fell to the ground, Jerry beat him until he was nothing but bloody scrambled eggs.
Seeing dead bodies changes you. It changed things for me, anyway.
I down the rest of my lukewarm coffee and stand. “Let’s get this over with.”
Hawk follows me as I head inside. I set my empty mug on the counter and grab my leather jacket, gloves, and motorcycle helmet. Hawk’s helmet sits beside mine, along with the keys he tossed on the counter.
We don our gear and ride to Jaxon’s house on the other side of the abandoned neighborhood.
One of my favorite songs blasts through the speakers in my helmet, drowning out any thoughts.
Riding has always been my happy place. It’s the closest I can get to the feeling of flying.
Controlling a powerful machine that can kill me creates an adrenaline rush that never dulls, no matter how many times I ride.
As soon as we pull up to Jaxon’s house, Aiden shuffles out the front door, ass first, dragging Mickey’s dead body outside. I park my bike, remove my helmet, then help Aiden move the body.
“I’m chopping him up,” he says as we move the corpse onto the dead grass. “I’ve been dying to fuck him up for years.”
“Welcome to the club,” Hawk calls as he strides toward us. He lights the cigarette hanging between his lips.
I drop Mickey’s legs and straighten to my full height as I eye his mutilated body.
Blood stains the fair skin at his throat where it’s been slashed.
The cut isn’t clean, like what a knife would do.
I wonder if Jaxon somehow used the sourdough to slash Mickey’s throat.
The fucker barely has a face because of how badly Jaxon bashed it in.
Hawk stands beside me, smoking his cigarette and staring at the corpse with the same flat expression I’m wearing. Aiden stares at the body for a good minute with a scowl before he kicks it multiple times, each thrust of his leg rougher than the last.
I don’t need to question him about why he’s doing it.
Something happened to Mickey that made him feel the need to hurt others, but I don’t care enough to find out.
It would humanize the asshole, and I don’t have it in me to feel sorry for whatever trauma he went through.
People like Mickey are full of hatred that rots them from the inside out.
He got what was coming to him, and I couldn’t be any happier about it.
It’s just unfortunate I wasn’t there when Jaxon killed him so I could watch the terror screwing up Mickey’s face as he realized he was going to die.
“I’m guessing Jaxon slashed his throat open with the bread,” Hawk says, voicing what I was just thinking. “Who knew sourdough could be used as a weapon?”
Rigor mortis already set in, stiffening Mickey’s corpse, which doesn’t budge all that much from the brunt of Aiden’s kicks.
I part from my friends and walk to the shed full of tools behind the large house.
The door creaks as I open it, and I’m met with the aroma of sawdust and mildewed wood.
Chains hang from the ceiling and gently sway in the wind blowing inside the structure.
I search through the tools and find a shovel, then a chainsaw.
Even though Mickey is dead and can’t feel anything, I still want his corpse to be taken apart in a gruesome way.
He doesn’t deserve to be hacked into pieces like all the rest of his friends.
Knowing Aiden, he’ll want to use the shovel first, since it’ll be bloodier and more gruesome. Mickey deserves nothing less.
I head back with the shovel and toss it near Aiden’s feet, then retrieve the chainsaw. Aiden shoves his fingers through his hair as he looks between the two before smiling brightly at the shovel.
Yup. I knew it.
I light a cigarette out of habit and suck in the smoke while Aiden starts with Mickey’s head. The crunch of bone beneath the shovel is enough to send a shiver down my spine. Coagulated blood oozes out and plops onto the ground beneath the body.
A part of me wishes Mickey was still alive so he could feel the shovel cutting through the tendons and bones in his neck. It would have been the painful death he deserves. Then again, death by sourdough is a hell of a way to go too.
My phone vibrating in my pocket drags me out of my wandering thoughts. I fish it out and tense at the notification on the screen. Dear old stepdaddy, whose name is on my shit list, sent a text. Nothing good happens when he reaches out to me.
Jerry
Come by the house. We need to talk.
My fingers tighten around my phone. When I was a child, those words evoked way too much anxiety and panic, leaving me wondering what I did wrong this time. As an adult, they don’t do shit. Jerry can no longer break me like he could when I was a kid. Instead of a will to live, I’m filled with anger.
I can only imagine what he needs to talk about. Possibly fishing for information about the secret society we’re a part of. He’ll use any dirt I have on members within the society to his advantage. The possibilities are endless, and there’s no fucking way I’m helping him.
Choosing to ignore him, I slip my phone into my pocket.
“What does he want?” Hawk asks behind me. He hovers inches away, practically breathing down my neck with a somber expression that’s at odds with his usual easygoing nature.
My eyebrows rise. “Reading over my shoulder, hmm?” I shake my head as though I’m disappointed. I don’t give two shits about it, but it’s fun to tease him.
Hawk’s lips curl into a lopsided smile. “Can’t help it.” The amusement disappears as quickly as it came. “What does Jerry want?”
“I don’t know, but it must be important.” Because why else would my stepfather, who hates my guts, text me? It’s certainly not to join him for a cold one and talk about our latest fling—and yes, the motherfucker is cheating on my mother.
Hawk nods, his gaze slipping past me.
“All right, assholes,” Aiden hollers. He tosses the shovel and glares at us. “I need some fucking help. This is taking way too damn long, and I want to go home and visit the family.”
I raise an eyebrow. “By family, do you mean?—”
Aiden shoves a finger in my direction, and scowls. “Don’t even say it.”
“Your sister?” Hawk finishes with a smirk.
“You motherfucker,” Aiden snarls.
“It’s a pass for me. I prefer?—”
“Your sister? I fucking knew it!” Aiden cackles.
“Shut the hell up!” Hawk bellows.
Aiden gives him a smug look. “If I remember correctly, you got pissed when she dated Anthony. You wanted to bash his face in and everything.”
“Because he was a piece of shit, ya dick! I don’t like my sister like that. What’s up with you talking about fucking sisters, anyway? Are you projecting?”
“Not projecting if I’m pointing out the truth.” Aiden looks at me with a gleam in his eye, and I internally sigh as I ready myself for him to pull me into their argument. “C’mon, Ry. Take my side on this.”
I shake my head. “We have a body to get rid of. We don’t have time to argue about fucking our sisters.”
Aiden and Hawk fully turn toward me, their eyes wide and lips parted in surprise. I mutter a curse when I realize what I said.
“Fucking our sisters, huh?” Hawk smirks and waggles his eyebrows.
I groan and shake my head. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Sure it isn’t,” Aiden says with a snicker.
I roll my eyes and grab Mickey’s decapitated head by the hair. “Let’s get this shit done so I can leave.”
“So you can see your sister?” Aiden teases.
I give him a warning look. “So I can see my stepfather.”
Aiden sobers, all the joy leaching from him.
I know exactly how he feels. My stepfather sucks the joy out of you and spits you out when he’s done.
The only positive of being at his house is stealing glances at Madison when she isn’t paying attention.
I worry I won’t be able to resist her this time around, since Aiden’s question still haunts me.
It’s tempting. Way too fucking tempting, and my will can only go so far until I break.