Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
“Where?”
“I need to think.”
“And I need a bottle of whiskey.” He nods toward the house, his jaw tight. He’s seen a lot of death. But when it’s the innocent, it hits different. It hits hard.
I feel it right down to my fucking bones.
“I’ll see you back at the clubhouse later. Church at seven. Spread the word.”
I roar into the darkness, leaving Lars and the death house behind me. Venom bubbles in my veins. My shoulders are tense. I know Belle is waiting for me in my bed. But I can’t ride home to her. I can’t touch her with these hands, not when they itch with a violent need to annihilate those cock-sucking Psychos and their poison. No matter how much my body aches for her touch, I’m not bringing that poison into our bed.
So I ride deeper into the inky night, feeling the whip of the wind against my face and the cool air in my lungs. My mind roars with thoughts of what to do next. Of the right path to lead the Knights into. And what is right for the town I love with every beat of my black heart.
I hear the call of the road and head toward the cliffs.
I know where I’m going. I’m going to ride until the darkness crawls back inside me and I can return to the clubhouse and hold Belle in my arms.
But the minutes become an hour and I’m still no closer to calming the urge for blood.
So I decide to walk it off.
It’s the other thing that calms the noise in my head. I did a lot of it before Belle came to the clubhouse. It’s where I went every night when everyone thought I was meeting a woman. They were partially right. Because every night I walked these streets, I ended up at the same location time and time again. Across the road from a little house on Le Prince Street.
I pull into one of the many alleyways of Devil’s Kitchen, the seedier side of town, and kill the Harley’s engine. The images of the dead girls cut into my thoughts. Their slack faces. Their pale lips. Their sightless blue eyes staring out at nothing. The memory cuts me to the bone and I need to quieten the clamor in my head and the pain in my gut when I think about them, and what the fucking Psychos are bringing into our town.
I start walking. Moving through the shadows undetected. Watching. Listening. Hunting. My urge for blood singing in my ears.
Just like my brother, I thrive in the shadows. But for very different reasons.
Gaston likes to play with his prey.
I simply destroy it.
We share the same darkness of the soul. A dark flaw etched into our DNA thanks to a father who was as violent as he was mean. But I can control mine, keep it caged until something like this happens, and I’m forced to let it hunt blood.
I don’t know where I am walking to, not now that the house on Le Prince St is empty. I just walk and think and let my mind churn with all the noise.
Dawn begins to break in shades of gold across the sky, and I’m walking back toward my bike when I hear it.
At first I think it’s a cat calling into the night. An alley cat warning off trespassers encroaching on his territory.
I pause and strain to listen in the darkness. For a moment there is nothing. But there’s another cry, only this isn’t a cat. This is a cry of terror. A whimpering plea. It bites into the night but quickly dies. Probably silenced by a pair of hands over the mouth.
But I know where it’s coming from. We’re deep in Devil’s Kitchen now. The part of the town where drug dealers and junkies dance the dark ballet of addiction. The drug dealers take advantage, and the addicts succumb to their needs.
I move through the damp alleyways and narrow side streets where evil reigns and the innocent have no place being. I cut across the dirty street toward the alley where I heard the noise.
Another cry cuts into the darkness. A plea for mercy. “No, please don’t.” The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, because I know what I am going to find at the end of this alleyway, and it means my darkness will get to dance tonight.
I find them both behind the dumpster.
The woman lies limp on the wet cobblestones while a piece of shit in an Unhinged Psychos cut thrusts into her between her spread legs. Her eyes are hooded and heavy with the effects of whatever drug she has taken. She doesn’t fight him anymore. He’s silenced her pleas for him to stop with a hand over her mouth. And as he takes what he wants from her she slips deeper and deeper into her delirium.