CHAPTER 25
SNAKE
When I slide out from underneath my woman, her arm slides across the bed as if she’s searching for me. A smile tips my mouth upward for a moment until I remember why I needed to slide out of bed in the first place. It’s time.
Time to slay her demons.
Time to be her sword to wield. The best part? She doesn’t have to be there for me to be her vengeance.
I welcome giving her peace, and the knowledge that she’ll never have to look over her shoulder with fear in her eyes again. Never fucking again.
The main room of the clubhouse is practically fucking teeming with my brothers. Everyone is on edge and thirsting for blood the moment I step through the door. I find Ryker standing near the bar along with Playboy, Whiskey, and Sidewinder.
When Ryker gives me a nod, I turn and head through the hallways that will lead me to my prey. I don’t have to look behind me to know my brothers are following me. They’ve had my back for my entire life and it’s not going to change any time soon.
I jump slightly when a large hand lands on my shoulder, but my steps don’t falter. I look over my shoulder to find my dad there. His face is a mask of stoic rage and the same need for violence I feel pumping through my veins.
He might be standing at my back, but he’s not here for me. No, he’s here for my woman.
“Did you tell her?” His voice is low and meant only for me.
We stop in front of the door that is locked up tight, sealed not for the protection of whoever is trapped in the cage of a room on the other side. No, the state-of-the-art lock is meant to protect the innocents on this side of the door who don’t need to be touched by the blood shed inside.
Like my Graycie.
“Yeah,” I grunt, “I’m not going to keep secrets from my Old Lady.”
Pride shines in my dad’s eyes and I stand up a little taller under his gaze. “Good,” he grits out. He studies my face for a moment before his shoulders relax slightly. “She doesn’t want to see it and make sure?”
“No,” my voice is hard, but the thought of my Graycie-girl makes it soften slightly as I add, “she trusts me to get it done.”
“And we will.” His words are a vow, a promise written with certainty I don’t need but appreciate all the same.
With a chin lift of acknowledgement, I let the burning hatred I’ve had to control ignite fully as I face the door.
Ryker presses the code in even though I’m more than capable of doing it myself.
I know what he’s doing, what they’re all doing.
It’s a sign of their support as they stand shoulder-to-shoulder with me while walking into retribution.
The moment the door swings open, my eyes land on the man of the hour. My footsteps are filled with purpose as I step inside our wet room, where all the evil we encounter comes to be judged and sentenced.
No one has been strapped to the same chair he’s in and lived to tell the tale. He won’t be any different.
Sylvester groans and raises his head, with difficultly, which has a wicked smirk curling one side of my mouth. His eyes widen when he sees me standing in front of him while the rest of my brothers fan out.
He takes in my cut, my patch and position, before his eyes dart around the room. When he sees Ryker, he relaxes slightly as if my president will be able to have any say in his fate. If he wants to play that game, he can try.
But it won’t save him.
Not today.
Not ever.
He’s about to meet the devil and I can only hope he’s given everything he deserves in the afterlife. I know I won’t be able to torture him nearly enough in this life to balance the scales. Nothing could, not in this reality.
In hell? With the devil himself wielding the whip?
Maybe.
Playboy comes up behind him and leans down near his ear. “Boo,” he barks out just as he reaches around and yanks the tape off his mouth.
Sylvester startles and looks over his shoulder with fear painting his features. Playboy only grins in response.
“Do you have any idea who I am?” Sylvester’s voice is high, tight, and just on the edge of shrill.
“I know that you’re a fucking dead man who still happens to be breathing,” Playboy throws the words out there like they aren’t acidic. He chuckles, the sound a low rumble of violent amusement. “I also know you’ll crumple like a little bitch when punched.”
Figuring out quickly that he’s not going to get anywhere with Playboy—who stands at his full height and crosses his arms across his chest as if this place needs a bouncer—Sylvester’s gaze moves back to Ryker. He has no idea I’m the one he should fear, not yet, but he’ll learn soon enough.
“Look,” he starts, making his voice placating and far too fucking patronizing for this room, “you don’t know who you’re messing with. I think there’s been some misunderstanding because I’m just here to collect my fiancé, and then I’ll take her back to Phoenix.”
My brothers start to grumble behind me, but I don’t take my eyes off the man in the chair.
Ryker’s voice is deep and filled with a foreboding which is easy for me to hear, but goes right over Sly’s head, “I know exactly who you are. I also know who you’re here for.
” Sylvester practically slumps back into the chair as if he truly believes he’s about to be let go.
He isn’t. “You won’t be taking Graycie anywhere. ”
“You know Graycie?” Sylvester’s voice is incredulous as he looks around again, closer this time.
“Then you should just hand her over now. I don’t know what she told you, but she’s unstable.
Her parents and I have been searching for her for months.
She’s a danger to herself and others. I’m here to get her and get her the help she needs. ”
My hand moves without me even realizing it.
I backhand the man in front of me, the sound of it is loud in the quiet of the room.
Sylvester’s head snaps to the side and he lets out a whimper.
My lip curls in disgust. This is the man who thinks he can take a whip to a woman without any fucking consequences?
He turns his head toward me slowly, his eyes calculating. Just when I think he’s going to breakdown and become a sniveling mess, he smirks. “Oh, I see,” his voice is lazy, “she let you into her sweet pussy. Now you fancy yourself her knight in shining armor. Stop me when I’m wrong.”
Playboy makes a clicking sound with his tongue but doesn’t comment. I know it’s killing him; the man loves to talk and taunt.
Sylvester looks me over and, clearly, finds me wanting even though he’s really not in a position to judge a damn thing, least of all me. I don’t bother introducing myself. He doesn’t need to know considering he won’t be living much longer.
“You know,” he pitches his voice into something conspiratorial, “I was her first? She held onto her virginity for a long fucking time. But her sweet cherry is all mine.” He shakes his head, fake pity written on his face. “Her parents basically wrapped a bow around her for me.”
I backhand him again and this time he cackles. Fucking cackles like a lunatic.
When I think of her parents, I’m tempted to track them down and teach them a lesson.
I force myself to find solace in the fact that she’ll never talk to them again.
They might not know it, but they’ll be missing out on her bright future, one they could have shared in if they weren’t so fucking worthless.
“You might have had her since she came here, but I had her first.” His lip curls up, the lecherous look on his face tempting me to pull out my gun and be done with this.
But I want to give him back even a fraction of the pain he inflicted on my woman first. “She would make a good whore for your club,” he muses, “since she’s used goods now. ”
I glare down at the man, the man who dared to hurt my Angel.
My lip curls, the disgust clear to read on my face.
As I shake my head slowly, I tell him the truth of things, “You think it matters that you were her first? You think her purity has something to do with her virginity? And that I would care?”
I huff out a laugh and roll my eyes while my brothers yuck it up behind me because the suggestion is ridiculous.
We might be a lot of fucking things, but we’re not hypocrites.
The surety and smugness written on his face slowly drains right along with his color.
He’s white as a sheet when I lean closer and smile.
But it’s not a kind smile, not the one my Graycie-girl gets. It’s pure sin and retribution wrapped in barbed wired.
“I’ll give you that you were her first,” I tell him, the words burning my throat, “but I’ll be her last. Considering the way she moans my name, I’m the only one she’ll ever remember. I’ll make sure of it,” I promise.
His eyes narrow and I can feel the hatred he has for me. But I don’t give a fuck. Because I’ve got the girl.
Graycie is mine and I’m never letting her go.
“I’m the one she wraps her body around and snuggles into. I’m the one who makes her feel safe.” I click my tongue and my brothers make sounds of displeasure, the sound rising and falling in the space around us.
“You hurt her,” I spit the words, my hands fisting at my sides while the need to make it right, to cause him triple the amount of pain she had to endure, roars to the forefront.
“You hurt her when you should have been protecting her. I’ll make sure the horrors you inflicted are memories that feel so far away they can’t be real. I’ll have her on the back of my bike, wrapped around my body, or maybe I’ll caress her pregnant belly.”
His eyes flare with something like yearning and it only makes me want to hurt him more. The fucking bastard. “She’ll never think of you again and while we’re building our future do you know where you’ll be?”
He shakes his head slowly, as if I actually give a fuck about his answer.