Chapter 3
SAXON
She knows more than she’s letting on. I’ve been watching her since she arrived in Golden Heights two years ago.
Did she really think I would let a rival club member live in my town without me knowing her every move?
When I found out she was Sergio’s daughter, that piqued my interest. I admit I wanted to eliminate her right off the bat but soon realized she could be of some use after all.
It’s no secret she hates her father and his club, but what I’m not sold on is whether this is just a facade to try to collect information from me and mine.
My family and my club are the only things I live for.
No pretty girl is going to come in and ruin that.
So, I watched her, secretly, of course. It started with keeping tabs on her at the club, then when I found out she rents the apartment above the club, I installed a few cameras here and there.
You know, to keep an eye on her at all times.
It wasn’t hard watching her; she’s caught my attention from the moment I first saw her.
She’s captivating and mysterious, otherworldly with her beauty.
A true witch who’s cast a spell on me, and I can’t go a single day without spying on her.
I’ve sort of become her own personal stalker, if you will, in the sense that I can’t fucking stay away from her.
As much as my cock wants to be near her, I can’t ignore the fact that she’s still the enemy.
Skyler’s different than I thought. As far as I can tell, she’s not once called or had any contact with her father, or anyone from the Hellstorms, for that matter.
I can’t imagine the daughter of Sergio would just leave his orbit to come into his enemy’s territory.
Nah, I’m not buying it. With as much time as I spend watching her, I’ve noticed she’s always alone.
No friends, other than my sister and the girls, and even their time together is minimal.
She’s an insanely private person from what I’ve gathered.
She works, goes for her nightly run, gets back to the club, showers, and goes to bed.
Skyler’s a creature of habit and rarely ventures from her routine.
That is until I noticed after her runs, she tends to go to the basement of the club.
Naturally, I installed a camera down there as well.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but what I did find, I never would have imagined.
I’m sitting in the parking lot of the club still, my all-black McLaren GT concealing me from sight.
I pull up my live stream of the basement camera I installed and see she’s already gotten to work on her latest victim, who is strapped to the chair in front of her.
She’s been pummeling the mystery man with a pair of brass knuckles since I left the club fifteen minutes ago.
I knew she was pissed after our conversation—hell, she was pissed before it even began.
That’s just her personality though. She’s constantly in a sour mood, which makes her more fun to fuck with.
Her attitude spurs me on. She turns me on.
That rage she harbors is a ticking time bomb, and as far as I can see, I detonated that bomb tonight. Sorry to her victim.
I watch her as blood spews from the man’s face and covers her chest, face, and hair. She’s on a mission tonight, and if the poor fuck isn’t dead already, he will be shortly. His cries and grunts have stopped and the sound of bones crunching beneath her brass knuckles is all I hear.
Just when I’m about to head out and let her have her time, she finally stops, straightening her back.
I pull my phone closer to my face as I watch her chest rise and fall with quick breaths.
She’s spent. About time. She lets the brass knuckles fall from her hands and the loud clanking fills the room.
Then she collapses to the floor herself, her body visibly shaking.
Pulling her knees to her chest, Sky wraps her hands around her legs and lets her face fall to her knees as she sobs.
I’ve never, and I mean never, seen her cry.
Especially not after she kills someone. She’s usually on a high and can’t stop smiling at her handy work.
I like her kind of psycho, reminds me of me.
She sits there while each sob explodes from deep within her, as if the floodgates finally burst and a lifetime of pain floods through her.
For two years I’ve been following Skyler, and not one tear has been shed—until tonight.
What’s happened to this girl? That is the question I have yet to get answered.
I’ve seen Sky kill six men since I installed these cameras roughly six months after she arrived.
No telling how many she killed before that.
I was shocked the first time I saw her with a machete.
She was hacking a man to pieces, starting with his fingers, then his hands, then wrists, forearm, shoulder, and then starting again at his toes.
It was brutal. Creative, but brutal, nonetheless.
I was instantly intrigued and fascinated by this woman.
I’m no saint myself and use rather questionable tactics when torturing my victims as well, but with Sky, hers seem to be more personal and more deeply rooted.
A way for her to heal herself in some way.
I can’t imagine her victims being random.
I’ve heard her say their names as if they are longtime friends, or rather, enemies.
I watch her for a bit longer, her body quickly losing the fight and exhaustion taking hold of her.
Lifting her head to look at the now very dead and very bloody man, she stands up, wipes the tears from her face, smearing blood across her beautiful sun-kissed skin and begins untying the man.
I don’t stick around then; I know her routine.
She will chop up the man piece by piece and place him in black garbage bags.
Then she will throw the bags in the club’s dumpster out back.
Last, but not least, she will clean the basement, take her shower, and go to bed.
At first, I thought to myself how risky it was to dispose of the bodies in the dumpster where she works, then I realized something.
Skylar only kills her victims on Monday nights due to trash day being Tuesday morning.
This means the bodies never stay there for longer than twelve hours. Sexy and smart.
I wasn’t planning on continuing my surveillance of her for this long, but a year and a half later, I can’t seem to stop myself.
She’s a puzzle I want to put together. I need to know why she does what she does.
Who is Skylar, and why am I fast becoming utterly infatuated with her?
I was going to stop spying on her, I really was.
That was until I heard about Damien Devonte being a part of her father’s club, and how he could be related to my father’s murder.
My family and my club are my top priority, but I’ve found myself spending more and more time trying to decipher this woman.
I will use her for the information I need.
She will tell me what I want and more. She thinks she’s a psychopath?
She’s never known Saxon Wilder, but she will.
Pulling up to my house, I notice the living room light is still on and know immediately that Saint is here.
I’ve known Saint since we were twelve years old.
We grew up together, and he practically moved in when his grandmother died in his late teens.
My father looked after him and made him a part of the club the second he turned eighteen.
He is one of the few people I trust with my life.
Whenever I have things that need to be taken care of, he always makes sure Sage is protected.
While he was my best friend growing up, he has also been a second brother to her, and for that, I couldn’t be more thankful.
She is all I have, and I won’t let anyone else try to hurt her again.
Walking up the steps to the front door, I quietly push the doors open and head straight to the kitchen. I need a beer and something to eat. I’m fucking starving. As I’m rummaging through the fridge, I hear boots making their way towards the kitchen.
“There’s some leftover pizza in the oven.
The girls were hungry on the way back, so they ordered a few,” Saint says through a yawn as he pulls out a barstool and sits down at the large island.
“What the hell took so long?” Popping open a beer, I grab another and slide it towards my best friend, drinking half of mine in one go.
Grabbing the pizza box out of the oven, I don’t even bother with a plate and grab a slice.
I toss the box on the island in front of Saint, who grabs a slice as well.
“Our little Hellstorm was being extra difficult tonight,” I say with my mouth full.
“So, does she know this Damien prick or not?” Saint is already on his second slice; the man can eat. He’s not much bigger than me, but he’s broader and just a massive fucking dude with a metabolism of a teenage boy.
If I sound jealous, it’s because I am.
“She definitely knows him, but whether she knows where he’s currently at is another story.”
“What do we do now?” Saint watches me as he waits for my response.
Stepping back to the counter, I hoist myself up and sit on the cold granite.
I lean back against the cabinets, my head resting against the wood, as I let out a sigh.
I know what I want to do, but think better of it.
I don’t think she would like me tying her sexy little ass to a chair and fucking it out of her, but then again, she’s full of surprises.
“I know that look.” Saint brings me back from my dirty thoughts involving a little brunette with hazel eyes.
“I think it’s time we change tactics.” His only response is his signature smirk that tells me he’s all in with whatever plan I have brewing in my head.
Time to get to work.