I’m being held in the Slaughter Room, in the basement of the Steel Dragons MC. The cold, steel floor cuts through my clothing, eliciting goose bumps along my skin.
The room is bathed in pitch-black shadows, the temperature similar to that of a fucking fridge, and the soundproof interior is supposed to be fucking with my mentality.
They have no idea what I’ve endured this past year. Instead of going insane, this is as relaxing as a fucking spa day on vacation.
I rest my head back against the steel wall and begin to whistle, the tune jolly and fast-paced, reminding me of the carnivals Dad used to take me and Jaeger to.
Jaeger.
He fell right into my trap, nabbing me when he thought I was alone and vulnerable, and now he says he has plans to break me.
I’m fucking excited because I have plans to be broken by him.
Jaeger Varga needs to believe he’s ripped me apart, worse than killing my father, and I want him to plan my death, only to watch me rise like a phoenix.
Then I will make sure every Steel Dragon is gathered together before I raze the whole club to the ground, making sure Jaeger is watching as everyone he loves suffers.
Little does he know, when he thinks all is lost and everything he’s betrayed to gain is gone, I will only just be getting started.
I will push him to the brink of ultimate despair, only to drag him back by his stringy hair and start all over again.
A key slides into the lock on the door and I quiet my whistling, needing them to believe I’m truly fearing for my life.
The door opens, letting in the bright, fluorescent light from the corridor. I hiss at the sudden attack on my corneas when I hear his deep chuckle.
“That’s just the beginning of your pain, sister.”
“Goody.”
She blew up our bikes and the blast set the clubhouse on fire. The main room, the kitchen, and a few of the bedrooms have been reduced to cinders and ash. I can still feel the heat on my skin as if I were right there, staring past the wall of flame and into the eyes of the girl I thought was dead.
The first time I saw her at the club my heart nearly dropped out of my ass. A chaotic war of joy and despair flooded my insides and her name wrenched from my throat in a desperate plea. Up until that point, I thought she was lost to us. Maybe she still is. I can’t see her ever forgiving me for not fighting to keep her safe, not only from Hell’s March but from Jaeger too.
That night plays over and over again in my mind. Starting from her phone call, the one I ignored, then right away listening to her frantic voicemail, begging me to come to her house. She said something was wrong, but I already knew what was wrong. Jaeger let me know that Bear and Malik were coming to kidnap Genni and drive her out to the edge of the desert to leave her there. I believed it because Jaeger had packed her bag, put some money in there, and written a note, giving her an explicit warning to never come back. I thought it was legit. Why would he want his sister dead?
Then a few months later, I received a package at the clubhouse from a courier service. A small brown box taped and addressed to Jaeger. I had set it on the bar and went back to drinking the memories away, trying desperately to numb the pain I could no longer bury. I stared at that box with each burning mouthful of liquor. Why would Jaeger get a package sent here? Even if he is the new President, why would something be dropped off here for him?
I don’t know if I can call it instinct because I was on day three of an alcohol bender and I think my instincts, along with my common sense, were part of the mash I threw up a few hours before. No, it was more a curiosity because ever since that night when I watched as Malik took her away, I’ve had a bad feeling about Jaeger. He hasn’t told me everything.
Before my mind could process what my fingers were doing, I’d ripped the tape off the box and opened the flaps to quickly peer inside.
The smell was all wrong, but just looking at the brunette strands lined with deep mahogany was like a shot to the heart. It was Genni’s hair. I would know what it looked like since I spent so much time studying her, watching her for years if I’m being honest. I leaned over that box as my heart pounded through my chest, my fingers reaching in to grab the silky strands, and I knew I saw it, but my brain hadn’t caught up to register what I was touching until the crimson fluid was coating my fingertips. Deep down I knew her hair meant nothing, that the blood was inconsequential, but guilt forced me to believe I was staring into Genevieve’s grave.
Just thinking about it now has my stomach twisting into knots. It was retaliation for sending one of our newest members to look for her. Before the package showed up, I had to know if she was alive or if she was yet another life added to the weight of death on my shoulders. I was hoping without his cut, my newly sworn-in brother could slip under the radar and find out some information for me, but he never returned. His death is now added to my shoulders, the weight making my steps a little heavier each day.
A day later, that package with her blood and hair showed up.
Then Genni appeared inside the compound looking like an avenging angel, and in many ways she was. She looked different, stronger, and more confident, but what stood out the most was the leather cut she had draped over her shoulders. A Hell’s March cut. It didn’t have a Property Of badge, no, she is a full-blown member. Dragon Slayer.
Those two little words shone in the last vestiges of sunlight, declaring war.
Then our world was engulfed in flames.
“We deserved this.” Laith’s voice rips me from my torturous memories and forces me to face the present.
I look around the warehouse we’ve been forced to stay in as the renovations take place at the clubhouse. It feels cold, isolated, and foreign here. This isn’t my home, but at least we’re all alive and without injury.
The whiskey bottle in my hand begins to feel like it weighs a ton as I tip it up to my mouth, missing my lips and feeling the warm liquid saturate my filthy T-shirt. Thankfully, my cut is folded up at the end of the cot I’ve been sleeping on because I can’t trust myself to keep it clean.
