Chapter 32
Heresy
Our Harleys ripped through the night like a pack of hellhounds, the engines howling in the wind. My heart was like a goddamn sledgehammer in my chest. We were heading straight for that haunted house, the place I never thought I’d have to see again. The wind lashed at my face, the smell of smoke hitting my nose before the flames even came into view. And when they did, my heart damn near stopped.
Salem.
It wasn’t just the house that was burning. No, it was worse. A massive bonfire blazed beside it, casting a glow across the clearing, and there she was—Salem. Naked, tied to a pole like some twisted witch burning ritual, corn husks piled around her feet like kindling just waiting for a spark. The flicker of flames danced off her pale skin, her body shaking. Cold? Fear? Didn’t matter. All I saw was her terrified face, and I lost it.
Cutter stood beside her, that bastard holding a torch like he was about to set her on fire. The metal barrel stood next to him, flames licking the air, ready to be the kindling for the worst kind of nightmare. His grin was sick, twisted, like he was getting ready to burn her alive.
I was off my bike before it even stopped, boots hitting the dirt hard as I tore toward her, fueled by nothing but rage and terror. The others—Riptide, Rage, all of ‘em—were close behind, but all I could think about was Salem. Get to her. Save her.
Cutter saw us coming, and the bastard had the nerve to lift that torch higher, flames flickering like he had all the power in the world. “Stay the fuck back!” he yelled, his voice cutting through the crackle of the fire. “You take one more step, and I’ll light her up like the Fourth of July!”
I froze. Hands clenched so tight I thought my bones would snap. I wanted to rip his throat out, tear him apart with my bare hands, but I couldn’t move. I didn’t dare go for my gun. Not when Salem’s life was hanging on the edge of that flame. She was shivering, eyes wide, pinned to that pole like a lamb to slaughter. Goddamn it, she was scared, and I couldn’t help her.
Cutter turned his eyes to Riptide, waving that torch like a damn flag. “This is how it ends, Riptide. No more truce. I’m breaking it tonight. The Slayers aren’t bowing to the Heelz or the Gods anymore. She burns, and it all burns with her.”
Riptide’s face went stone cold, his hand hovering near his gun. “You’re already a dead man, Cutter. But if you touch that torch to her, I swear to God, I’ll make your death last for days.”
The whole world went still for a second. It was like everything was holding its breath, waiting for the spark to fly. Cutter’s eyes flickered, just a hint of doubt, a split second of hesitation.
That was all I needed.
I charged him. The torch hit the ground as he fumbled for his knife, but I was on him before he had a chance to breathe. We hit the dirt hard, fists flying, and I wasn’t stopping. Didn’t care about nothing but beating the life outta him, one punch at a time. His blood splattered across my knuckles, but I kept swinging, the rage inside me boiling over, drowning out everything else.
I grabbed his collar, hauling him up, my hand going for my gun, ready to end it right there. But Riptide stepped in, his hand heavy on my shoulder.
“Not yet,” he barked. “We need answers first.”
I stared down at Cutter’s bloodied face, every muscle in me screaming to pull the trigger. But Riptide was right. We needed to know why, who else was in on this. I dropped Cutter to the ground, letting him choke on his own blood while he gasped for air.
In the chaos, Pixie and Razor had rushed to Salem, cutting the ropes, wrapping her in some dusty old sheet they found in the house. She was shaking, tears streaking down her face, but when she saw me, a sob of relief escaped her lips.
I was at her side in a heartbeat, pulling her into my arms, wrapping that sheet tighter around her, trying to make her feel safe. “I got you, babe,” I whispered, pressing my lips to the top of her head. “I got you.”
She clung to me like I was the only solid thing in a world gone to hell. I held her close, heart still pounding from the adrenaline, from the terror of almost losing her.
Pixie and Razor stood close, watching, both of ‘em relieved but still rattled by how close we’d come to disaster. “We’ll get her back to the Roost,” Pixie said, her voice reassuring.
Hearing the firetrucks in the distance, I nodded, letting go of Salem as they led her away from that burning nightmare. The fire still raged behind us, but it didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was getting her out, getting her safe. And getting Cutter back to the clubhouse to handle him on our own before the authorities got here.
Once Salem was with Pixie and Razor, I was back on my bike. Riptide was already on his phone, gathering the others, and I knew what came next. Cutter wasn’t walking away from this. Not alive.
But first, we were gonna get the answers we needed.
I glanced back at Salem, just once, before I fired up my engine. She was safe now, but this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.