The echo of my old boots on the cold stone steps was nothing compared to the sound of the door being closed behind us. The creak of old hinges followed by the deep thud of steel on steel and the slide of a lock reverberated around us in the darkness.
From somewhere below, a light shone, and I took the stairs one at a time, heading toward that light and whatever it may reveal. Bull was right behind me, the heat from his body filling the space.
“Cool as a fucking cucumber, ain’t that right, kid?” he said.
I didn’t reply. Not a lot to say to that. Instead I focused on the stairs, each one seeming bigger than the last until I reached the bottom.
“Right,” Bull said, pointing with his gun.
I turned right, coming into another room. It was larger than I expected, and yet smaller because of the amount of men that were standing in it. Their expressions were dark—murderous, almost—and a silence hung thickly in the air, making it hard to breathe. They stood in a circle, waiting for me.
Each one of them held onto a different weapon—some knives, some bats, some just large metal poles—and a shiver of expectation vibrated through my body. So this was it? This was how my short but bloody life was going to end? I didn’t even care why; all I cared about was that the pain in my heart, which I had been carrying around for as far back as I could remember, would finally be over.
I paused, rolling my shoulders as I prepared myself for what was to come.
“Keep movin’,” Bull said, giving me a small shove in the back.
I took another step forward and then slowly turned to look at him. “So this is it, huh?”
“Looks that way.”
I looked over to the circle of men and then back to Bull. “You killin’ me?” I sucked in my bottom lip. “You ain’t even gonna let me fight for my life?”
Did I want to fight for my life? Seemed only right to go out of this world the way I’d come into it. I had come into this world fighting for air, my umbilical cord wrapped around my small neck, and I’d been fighting every day since.
Bull’s expression remained neutral, his black eyes holding my stare. He jerked his head to the right. “Move.”
I snarled but turned and headed toward the circle of men again. Because fuck it, right? Ain’t got nothin’ in this life to live for anyway. Always knew I was going to die young; just never knew it would be in a dingy basement by a bunch of men with bats and knives. Mama always told me she saw blood in my future. Never fucking believed her though. Not until she was dead and I was covered in her blood.
Who knew the bitch had been right though.
The group of men parted, allowing me room to enter the circle, and I swallowed down the bile in my throat. My gaze narrowed in on another man standing in the center of the circle, looking like he was on the wrong side of sanity. Sweat trickled down the sides of his face, his veins popping in his arms. His eyes bulged in his already-bruised-to-fuck face and he glared at me like I was sent from hell and he was ready to send me back.
“All right, kid. You want to join us, then you need to prove your loyalty to the club,” Bull said from somewhere outside of the circle. “Pick a weapon and go to town on this motherfucker. Only one of you comes out of this alive. If it’s you, then you’re one of us.”
The circle of men cheered and stomped their feet, and I would have straight-up believed I might have been tripping out of my mind if it wasn’t for the scent of death that hung so strongly in the air that my nostrils burned.
I searched for Bull, wanting and needing answers, but I couldn’t find him anywhere, and then it was too late. The fight had started and the crazy fucker trapped in the circle with me grabbed a knife from one of the Highwaymen’s hands and charged at me like he wanted to cut a piece of me off and fry it for his dinner.
Stupid fucker didn’t know who he was messing with if he thought I was going down easy though.
~ 4 ~
He roared as he swung the knife back and forth, slashing at the air in front of me, and I barely managed to dodge out of his way before he cut out my liver. The knife sliced across my arm, drawing blood, I winced and backed away.
“I ain’t got no beef with you,” I said to him, but he didn’t look like he cared one way or the other. This was happening whether I liked it or not. I stared at the men around me, finding only hard, empty gazes staring back. I reached out and grabbed a baseball bat from the man closest to me, and he let go without hesitation.
I realized quickly that the Highwaymen were holding these weapons for us to take as and when we needed them. The realization of how fucked up that was sparked in me but I pushed it away and concentrated on staying alive. Because yeah, I wanted to live. After months of searching for death, I also realized that I didn’t want it.
The other man charged at me again and I swung the bat, hitting him in the ribs before he got close enough to slice me again. He grunted and stumbled back, and before he could right himself I swung again, hitting him in the other side. He held onto the knife, slashing at the air whenever I got too close to him and not looking the least bit afraid of me.
I hated that the most.
More than being forced into this circle.
More than being fooled into thinking I could be one of these men.
And much more than any of the shit I left back home all those months ago.
