“Maybe it was someone he knew,” Cyrus inserts, giving the same explanation we started with after realizing what happened to my father.
“Fucking hell, I feel like I’m going in circles.” I throw my hands in the air. “I hope he does challenge me directly, because then I could finally get some answers before I kill him.”
A hard knock on the door interrupts our conversation. Egan beats me to the dooragain. I glare at his back when he opens the door, standing in a way that blocks the person on the other side from seeing in.
“We have the demon Malik,” Samuel says. That was fast.
Egan steps to the side, and I order, “Tell them to bring the demon to the sheds. There’s no need to dirty up my clubhouse again.”
* * *
Egan
Lore steps backand wipes her brow, smearing blood across her forehead. The demon in the chair in front of her isn’t dead, but he might wish he was. The stump of the horn she sliced from his head is slowly seeping blood so thick, it looks nearly black as it coagulates.
He’s a mess of wounds, and he didn’t provide a useful piece of information during his very thorough torture. He wasn’t involved in any of the recent deaths, or he would have talked if he were.
Lore circles her prey. Some may see the fact that she provided him a chair after breaking his knees as a mercy, but I know the truth—she gave him the chair because she could, because she wanted him to know she controls everything that happens to him, because she is his god.
“Unfortunate timing you have, Malik.” She crouches next to him, as he’s unable to lift his head to look at her anymore. Too bad he’s weak. The fury in her yellow eyes is worth the pain, if he could endure it. “I hope you understand why I have to kill you.” She stands again, moving around him slowly so she’s at his back. Her blade doesn’t make a sound when she pulls it from the sheath on her lower back.
When she slides her hand under his chin and tips his head back to rest it against her stomach, his eyes blink up at her. He’s not fighting, not even a little. He’s gazing upon her as if she is his salvation.
My hand tightens at my side. The desire to torture his soul as Lore has tortured his body fills me. I don’t like the way he’s looking at what’s mine.
She draws the blade across the demon’s neck in a slow swipe, and a sigh leaves his lips. When Lore steps back, his head flips backward like an open maw, held on only by his spine and some soft tissue.
She wipes her knife on the thigh of her pants, then slides it back into the holster while scanning the room. Everyone in the shed has been completely focused on her for the past two hours, but it’s as if she’s only now noticing their presence.
“My father did not end his own life. My father was murdered, just like Reaper and Brass.” Her voice is calm as she addresses the voyeurs. Her questions to the demon would have given away what she suspected, so she’s not telling them anything they shouldn’t have already perceived. “I’m going to find who did this to them, and when I do, this will look like child’s play.”
She deftly steps over a pool of blood that has only gotten larger since she nearly took the demon’s head off.
Mumbles increase as she stalks out of the shed. When she’s out in the open air of the early morning light, she tips her head back and an exhausted sigh leaves her lips.
Her frustration is palpable. It’s not something I’m accustomed to feeling, but that was before her. I was never one to let emotions get in the way of what needed to be done, but maybe that was why I lost the little sentiment I had.
Her passion in this is understandable, warranted, and contagious. The need to find those responsible and skin them alive until they give her every answer her heart desires is consuming, but the need to be with her and assure her safety is more intense.
Lore allows herself a single moment of reprieve before storming back into the clubhouse and shouting for Deekhil.
He appears from a darkened corner, not having gone to the shed to witness her beautiful brutality. “Put out a call. Any challenges for the seat of the President of the Obsidian Angels will be accepted in four days, on the final day for grieving. The trials will be held at my father’s estate.”
“What are you doing?” Cyrus pulls Lore’s arm, shifting her attention so she’s looking at him. Her yellow eyes are clear but filled with more emotion than I know how to decipher.
She jerks her arm away. “I don’t have time to fuck around and wait for him to come to me. I want him dead.” She looks down at the blood already staining her fingers. “I wanthisblood on my hands.” She curls her fingers into fists. “If I have to kill every motherfucker that wants a piece of me to make that happen, then so be it.”
A thrill of excitement starts at the base of my spine. I may not know everything about the hierarchy of the club yet, but I do know that as her sergeant, I am beneath her, which means they will have to go through me first.
“What the fuck are you doing? Is that supposed to be a smile?” Modeus asks.
I reach up and touch my lips, feeling the sharp point of my tooth and the curl of my lip.
“Fuck, that’s kind of terrifying.” The high demon shudders. “Want to tell me why this makes you happy?”
CHAPTER22
Lore
