Illicit - M.N. Forgy(ang.)

Copyright © 2017 M.N. Forgy Edited by Ellie McLove Cover Photography by Wander Aguiar Cover Model Dylan Horsh Cover by Sara Eirew Formatted by Allusion Graphics

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal

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Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen

Epilogue Sneak Peek Acknowledgements Other Books by M.N. Forgy

I dedicate this book to those who see the cracked pavement as something more than just a road. It’s a vessel to self-discovery and peace. With the rhythm of your thoughts silently playing in your head and the tires on the road, the destination is not important. The smell of leather comforting, and the wind on your face a blissful release. To those who ride or die! No matter how crazy the ride may get.

Love binds you to a realm of insanity. Though my passion faded, I never stopped being crazy. -Machete-

STANDING AGAINST THE hospital wall I wait for Alessandra to exit the birthing room. Alessandra is my partner and my target. Her best friend Jillian is who just had the babies. That is why Alessandra dragged me here. The name Jillian sets heavy on my shoulders, that’s the woman my boss, Cross, is after. Word has it he wants those babies. That’s what Cross does, he kidnaps kids and turns them into the best Outlaws law enforcement has ever seen, then uses them to do his dirty work. I know because I was one of those kids, and so was Alessandra. She just doesn’t remember. She probably won’t remember me as Raven, but as Black A. Just as she was called Brown 5 when we were kids and not Alessandra. She didn’t know her name back then, she didn’t know anything.

She used to be as dark as me, a soul lost to the underground of survival. I’m here to make her remember, and that time is coming very soon. My story isn’t a simple one. I was kidnapped as a kid, and put into an underground ring run by a man known as Cross. He would condition kids to fight each other, and we had to learn to endure the worst conditions if we wanted basic essentials. Like water, food, or bathing. It was all to do his dirty work when we came of age. My opponent was always a girl that went by the name of Brown 5, also known as Alessandra and is now a Sin City Outlaws ol’ lady. Practically untouchable. Sure we were all rescued from the underground kidnapping ring at some point, but I was too far gone by then. My violent upbringing ingrained in my soul and my grudge for Alessandra too great for me to let go. I was angry and needed to release my demons on someone, I thought that someone was Alessandra. When Cross came for me a little over a year ago and told me I could have the opportunity to retaliate against Alessandra if I helped him take

down the Sin City Outlaws MC club… I went for it with more than excitement. She would see what it was like for me, and I would be free of my past. Cross had contacts to push me through the police academy so I could get close to her as she was a deputy on the Vegas Police Department. I passed everything with flying colors as I’ve been trained to be a lethal weapon rather than a normal person after all. But when the chance came to reign my revenge on Alessandra- when I looked her in her scared eyes, I saw something I didn’t like… I saw myself. I fucking let her go. I realized she was not my enemy, but Cross was. Realization was too late because I was soon caught by Machete and caged in darkness once again. A man with red hair and intimidating eyes steps across from me. He’s a member of the Sin City Outlaws MC and is here because Jillian’s boyfriend is the president of said club. His shoulders are broad, and his chest and arms are thick with muscle. His eyes rake me up and down, and my cheeks flush from the intrusiveness. Hands behind my back I look up at him through thick lashes. My

focus on fucking terrorizing Alessandra almost fading as he’s so handsome to look at. Almost. “What’s your name?” he asks, his voice low and rough. You can hear it in your bones. “Raven,” I tell him with a lift of my chin. He points to a patch on his black cut. “I’m Machete,” he winks and I feel that wink all the way in my gut. He’s bad, you can tell by the way he holds himself. “You Alessandra’s partner?” he asks, observing my Police uniform. I look down forgetting I’m even a cop. It’s all for show, none of it real. All a ploy to get to the bitch that made my life hell. “Um, yeah,” I smirk. Alessandra walks out of the room, her eyes bouncing from me to Machete. “Let’s go,” she barks, and I give a tight-lipped smile to Machete. The way Alessandra is always talking down to me, it’s going to stop. “How are the babies? Are they okay? Did she have twins?” I ask, knowing Cross is going to demand these answers when I see him again. Whenever that is, the man just shows up out of

nowhere. Like the reaper. Nobody can stop, nor avoid him. During passing Machete grabs my elbow discreetly, his green eyes heated and looking right at me. My stomach knots, my mouth watering as my eyes fall on his lips. “You like something I could have some fun with.” He smiles wolfishly, his crazy eyes sexy but insane looking all at the same time. If only his crew knew he was flirting with a rookie cop. I bet they’d cut his fingers off. Then again, flirting with the enemy seems to be something his club is very much into these days. I mean, their president just had children with a fucking sheriff after all. I pull my elbow from Machete’s hand with a forceful jerk. “I could say the same,” I drink him in, and he smirks, seeming to like the chase. “I like that smart mouth of yours,” he growls, his nostrils flaring. The savage look passing his face, there’s no telling what he’d like to do with my mouth. Then again, I might like it. If he knew who I was, and why I was here… he’d be looking at me a whole other way though.

I’m his enemy. He will see that… very soon.

A Couple Months Later “GO GET HER!” Felix orders, his hand pointing in the direction of Raven. Our newfound enemy and only chance at retaliation against a man named Cross that betrayed our club. We don’t take betrayal lightly, it’s a broken law and we will dish out the fucking punishment. She’s casually walking in the distance as if she’s lost in a trance. Faded from the world and completely oblivious to the Calvary of bikers surrounding her. She’s small and cute. Long black hair flowing down her back. Short jean shorts hugging her flawless thighs, with a pair of dark Vans on her feet. I remember seeing her at the hospital when Jillian had the twins. I knew when I laid eyes on her there was something about her. She wasn’t a

typical bitch you cross on the street, she was fucked up and I liked that a lot. I just didn’t know she was so fucked up she was the goddamn enemy of my club! I take off after her, Gatz, our sergeant at arms, right behind me. Our boots thudding into the desert terrain as we gain distance on her. She looks over her shoulder with raw beautiful eyes, dark hair falling in her face but she doesn’t run. She doesn’t even flinch at the fact two big men are running at her in the dark in the middle of nowhere. Reaching her, I wrap my arms around her waist, and take her to the ground roughly. She screams as we fall, and my dick stiffens from the bloodcurdling sound. Her back presses into my chest as she tries to jerk away and I pull her closer, caressing her face with mine. My beard scratches against her silky skin, and I growl with desire. She’s so soft and smells so damn good. Like a spicy fruit or something sweet. I can’t help but inhale the back of her neck and take in her scent one last time. The urge to run my tongue along the nape of her neck strong and nearly unbearable. She squirms, trying to

break free. Her brows furrowed in with a scowl, and jaw tight with anger. The whimper that falls from those devil lips making my fingers dig into her skin. “Shhh,” I whisper in her ear, brushing her hair away from her face with my free hand. She’s even more beautiful up close. Olive colored skin, dark features, and beautiful natural pink lips. “Remember me?” I growl in her ear, and she stills in my hold, her eyes holding mine. Yeah, she remembers me. “Looks like we are going to get to have some fun,” I laugh. Her body feels so good pressed into me, I almost wish Felix would fuck off so I could be up against her for a second longer. “Get off me!” She struggles in my hold, pushing her ass into my groin. I close my eyes and run my nose along the inner crook of her neck, savoring every touch that I can take from her. I haven’t touched a woman like this in so long it undoes something in me. Something… animalistic. It’s not that I have a hard time getting pussy. I can have what I want when I want it. Wearing a leather cut

claiming me an Outlaw of Vegas, and a sexy motorcycle guarantees free pussy. However, when we have club parties I’m usually the one sitting on the leather couch in a cloud of smoke watching the crowd. People don’t come up to me because when they do, shit happens. When women come up to me, it’s to suck my dick and then fuck off somewhere else. Nobody gets hurt that way. Mac steps up to us, holding a needle in one tattooed hand. His boyish looks hardened by the shadows of the moon. He’s our tech guy, a fucking geek with a gun if you ask me. Apparently he’s a junkie too from the look of that needle. “This should help,” he states, pushing bubbles out of the syringe. Liquid dribbling out of the needle. “What the fuck is that?” Does he just carry drugs in his back pocket? What the hell? “Morphine, I was prescribed it after I laid my bike over last year, remember?” His eyes skip to mine, before landing back on the shot. “I got a fucked up knee from it,” he reminds me. I

remember now that he mentions it, some fuck-tard cut him off on the freeway and Mac broke his knee cap rolling his motorcycle. People never watch for motorcycles on the road around here, and we’d had enough of it at that point. The Sin City Outlaws set a fucking example that night. We found the driver and beat the shit out of him. I carved a dick on his arm with my machete. It was bloody, and fun. That scar will make him think twice before he turns without a turn signal again. Fucking dick-head. Raven curls her arm under her chest, keeping it tight against her body so Mac can’t get to her. She knows what’s coming. I love the fight in this bitch. She’s not crying for us to understand, promising us she’ll never speak a word, she’s a warrior. She’ll fight even if it kills her. And it very well could. Mac grabs her small wrist from under her and jerks it straight. She growls between clenched teeth, her body tensing. He aims the sharp needle for a thick blue vein before slowly inserting it into her skin. She screams as he begins to press the plunger, and I pull her close wanting to feel her body vibrate

with fear, and lose its adrenaline amongst mine. Instantly she goes limp in my arms, her breathing shallowing as she becomes high as a fucking kite. Her curses become mumbled and slurred, and her movements slow. “There you go,” I whisper into the back of her neck, my hand caressing her delicate cheek. The peach fuzz on the nape of her neck caressing the tip of my nose. “She’s good, let her go,” Mac states from behind me. Looking up through hooded eyes, I glare at him. I don’t want to let her go, I want to hold her and smell her, feel her fear rattle through her limbs as she discovers I’m her keeper. Reluctantly, I release her, and she drops to the ground heavily. Like a baby giraffe just born, she tries to pull herself up on all fours but doesn’t have the strength. She’s not going anywhere with that morphine racing through her veins. She’s at our mercy, we can do whatever we want to her and she’s helpless. I hear crying, and look up to find Alessandra embraced in Felix’s arms. She’s bleeding and half

naked. Raven really did a number on her. Zeek strides up to us, his dark hair hanging in his face as he assesses Raven. He’s my president and a loyal brother of the Sin City Outlaws MC. This is my life, and everything I am and know. I owe it all to him because without him I’d be more lost than I am today. “Take her to the east warehouse. You know what to do from there on out.” He flicks a brow at me, silently telling me he wants me to takeover and I give a curt nod. He just gave me this girl to play with, to torture for intel. My pet and fucking toy until further notice. He bends down and grabs her by the face harshly, his fingers digging into the flesh of her jaw. Foggy eyes find his, her body swaying as she fights the sleep trying to wash over her. “You will give me the whereabouts of Cross, or die. Do you understand?” She spits at him before laughing in a daze. Zeek inhales an angry breath and throws her onto her back. “By any means necessary,” Zeek grants me my fucking wish. My goddamn birthday! God she’s

going to be fun to play with and break. “I’ll take care of it,” I state. I swallow hard realizing this will be the first female I’ve been ordered to torture for information. I don’t fuck around with bitches unless my dick is deep inside of them, and I keep that with as little communication as I can. No eye contact, no talking, and no fucking call-backs. Women are an evil breed that causes you to do things and feel things before you even realize what’s happening. Their cherry lips, soft skin, and tempting smells make it impossible to avoid their allure. I don’t just gently fall in love with a woman either, I starve for their affection, and drown in an addictive obsession. I give them fucking everything my soul has to offer, but my cracks and scars come with it, and that’s sometimes too much for a real woman to handle. Bending down I pick her body up and toss her over my shoulder. She attempts to slap my back, but her fight is pathetic. She’s so high right now she can’t see straight let alone try and escape.

Mac opens the club’s van door, the seats have been taken out leaving an open cab. I shove Raven’s limp body in and climb in beside her. Mac shuts the door and gets behind the steering wheel, starting the van’s engine. Pulling out of the desert the vehicle bounces and swerves trying to make purchase of the rough terrain. Glancing down at the black beauty before me, she stares back with a bit of devil in her eyes. She’s a tornado with a pretty face and a dark soul, I can see it. She reaches out with delicate grace, her fingers just reaching the ends of my beard. She smells sweet and looks soft to the touch. Tempting. “Kill me?” she whispers, her fingertips caressing my cheek. I want to push my body onto her, and feel her warmth against my skin one more time before I take her life and her body cools. I’m going to enjoy her. She’s dark and twisted. I smile and bend down to get closer to her. Running my hand through her soft black hair I pet her, brushing her loose hairs away from her face. Fuck, I’m excited to play with her, hear her scream and watch her fear me. To quickly kill someone as

pretty and smart as her would be a goddamn waste. Like breaking a toy before you got a chance to play with it, this needs to be done slowly. “Oh no sweetheart, the fun is just about to start,” I threaten in a low whisper. Something dark passes over her face, but she doesn’t break eye contact. It’s almost as if she sobers completely. Suddenly a foot strikes me in the chest and I sail into the side of the van. The little bitch has a punch behind her. She wobbles herself up on her hands in a drunken daze from the morphine, and with all her might pulls open the van door. A whoosh of warm air drifts through the cab of the van, as she leans out the door ready to jump. Her hair wafting around her like a black halo. One that was on fire, but recently snuffed out. “Get her, Machete!” Mac orders, before slamming on the accelerator in an attempt to keep her from jumping. It causes Raven and I both to fly into the back of the van making the two back doors jerk open as our bodies bash into them. We tumble out of the van roughly, hands and limbs flailing as

we roll onto the dirt road. The skin on my arms feel like it’s being ripped off from the dirt and gravel, and one of her hands slap me in the face as we fall out. “Motherfucker!” I bellow as my body slams against the hard ground unforgivingly. The fall doesn’t seem to bother her as much as she tries to climb to her feet and run before she even comes to a standstill. She trips as she tries to escape, and her movements are very slow. It’s kind of entertaining actually, like hunting a clumsy deer in the desert. More legs than brain. I reach for my gun and aim at her. Biting my bottom lip, I second guess damaging the goods before I even get a chance to play with them. I aim it at the sky and fire a round. She screams and falls to the ground clutching her ears. I furrow my brows surprised that worked. Gotta be the drugs making it seem louder than it is. Running up to her, I pull her up off the ground by her hair and she whines in protest. Black silk wraps around my fingers as I jerk her around. Her nails dig into my knuckles as she tries to pull away

from me. “Get the fuck off me, you freak!” she hisses with clenched teeth. Scratch marks slice across my hand as she resists and I relish in the pain. Like fighting a wild cat. “Well, aren’t you a ray of fucking darkness,” I seethe. She takes a deep ragged breath, her fight slowing as she looks up at me with glossy eyes. God, she’s as fucking irritating as she is gorgeous. “Are you going to murder me?” she asks so calmly it causes the hairs on my neck to rise. This bitch ain’t right. In all my days as an Outlaw, nobody has asked me that. “Do you want me to?” I ask softly, and she just blinks in response. The soft crook of her neck moving as she swallows. My blade would slice through that soft skin like fucking butter. Bending down I brush my nose against the shell of her ear, and I not only hear, but feel the gulp of air she gasps. God, to have control is a fucking adrenaline rush! I want this bitch to obey me and know I am her only hope of life. “It’s only murder if they find a body, and right

now… you’re just a missing person, baby,” I growl, and her eyes widen to saucers as if the thought of nobody finding her scares her more than death itself. Laughing maniacally, I throw her over my arm and carry her back to the van. Teeth suddenly sink into the skin of my arm and I growl through the pain, my arm flexing as her sharp teeth slice through my flesh like a rabid bitch. Grabbing the nape of her neck, I tear her off my fucking arm and shove her in the van roughly. She looks up at me, ebony hair in her dark eyes, her mouth stained with my blood, and as fucked up as it is, the sight of it has my dick jump in my pants. She’s the kind of crazy you could get addicted to quickly. My eyes fall on the bungee cord laying on the van floor. Reaching for it, I wrap it around her body and the passenger seat, latching the hooks together so she can’t try that escaping shit again. I give the strap a hard pull to make sure it’s snug, and she glares at me. I wink at her. “We good?” Mac asks with concerned eyes. His hands white-knuckling the steering wheel. I eye my

arm where she sunk her teeth into it, blood slowly drips from. The crimson indentation of her bite marks like little vampire footprints in my flesh. My eyes flick to hers, her dark glazed irises sucking me into a world of crazy even I didn’t know existed. This is going be one fucking ride. What the hell was Zeek thinking giving her to me? “Yeah, let’s just get her to the fucking warehouse before anything else happens.”

Twenty-Four Hours Later SITTING ON THE PLAID COUCH, the material is rough and scratchy against my skin. It’s uncomfortable and makes me miss the leather sofa at the clubhouse. I look across the way at the large metal, bolted door concealing a ten by ten room with no windows and with only one light casting a shadow of nothing but pain and secrets. It also inhabits my biggest challenge yet. A female, one that has butter soft skin and jet-black hair. Her dark eyes matching her soul, black and cold. She has a face that has the cheekbones of a model and a jaw that is sharp and reminds me of a bitch that should be walking down Broadway rather than running mayhem in the underbelly of Vegas. Raven is my fucking enemy, and one I will

torture to get to the truth my club needs by all means necessary. Men break easily, I’m curious how long it will take for a female to give the whereabouts of Cross. Cross is Zeek’s estranged father who betrayed the club by trying to undermine Zeek and take it over with is Uncle Frank. Frank thought he owned Vegas and the club. He was wrong. We put a stop to that shit real quick by killing Frank, but Cross escaped. Leaving us all on edge, and goddamn targets. Frank and Cross also had the mafia behind them as they took over the casino that sits next to our club, so that means we aren’t just trying to find Cross, but the fucking mafia is pissed at us for running off their paychecks. Finding Cross will end all of our troubles, but we have no idea where he is. But Raven does. Flexing my fingers around my machete, the one Zeek got me when I was patched in two years ago. I stare at the reflection of myself in the steel blade. My reddish hair is longer on top than the sides, my green eyes looking back at me with a lost look. I’ve aged the last three years, you can see it. I hold a

hardness about me that wasn’t once there. They say I’m a fucking soulless animal, lost of compassion and out of fucks to give. Cold to the touch and hard on the eyes. They’re right. Somewhere down the line I lost sight of humanity and stepped out of the sun to live in the dark. It’s quieter, and more entertaining around those that lurk in the shadows. The rules are simpler but bloodier. I push myself off the couch and slowly walk toward where Raven is being held captive. Peeking through the crack of the metal door and the doorframe I watch her closely. She’s gorgeous and tormented. Like a doll a kid has played too roughly with and left outside to wither. I want to play with her too. She’s tied to a chair with a small stretch of duct-tape over her mouth rendering her helpless. I like that. A lot. Some of her black hair is stuck under the tape and it makes her look more vulnerable. She’s crying, her face smeared with dirt and tears.

I want to taste those tears. A growl escapes my throat stalking her like she’s my prey, and her head whips in my direction. My heart hammers in my chest, my teeth clenched as I watch her watch me. Dark wild eyes stare at the door as she mumbles something behind the tape. She jerks her body with narrowed eyes and my hands ball into hard fists at her squirming. I sense no fear, or terror coming from her. I’m not sure if I like that or not. It’s a first. Everyone is scared of me. I’m not… right. She is mine though. They gave her to me. I will break her, and find the enemy of my brotherhood if it kills me. Even if I have to kill her. I grab the closest tool off the table next to me and kick the heavy door open. A roar ripping up my throat with a pair of wire cutters in my hand. Her eyes slowly meet mine, her nostrils flaring. She’s seems unmoved by my actions, and it confuses me. She doesn’t look at me with fear or terror, but defiance. Maybe I’ve lost my touch and I’m just reading her wrong. Striding up to her, my boots thud against the

cold concrete. I rip the tape from her mouth and eye her with hooded eyes. “Shit!” she cries from the quick swipe of the tape pulling at her skin. A bright red rectangle marks her beautiful plush lips. I wait for her to give in first and talk. Plead for me to understand, offer to suck my dick for mercy. They all do at some point, and she will too. Slowly she turns her head upward, her eyes hooking me where I stand. “Give me your best shot, you fucking animal,” she spits, her dark hair sticking to her pretty little lips from the left over adhesive. I laugh. It starts small, then turns into something maniacal. “Aw, you’re a feisty little cunt.” I grab onto the arms of the chair, my face in hers. “I like that,” I state in a guttural whisper. Her eyes jump back and forth between mine, her dark eyebrows furrowed inward as she stares at me with pure hatred. Unmoved by my insults or threats. Bringing the wire cutters up, I give them a quick snip into the air.

“You sure you don’t want to change your mind and give me what I want?” I offer her one last chance. She stares straight ahead as if I have no effect on her. It pisses me off. Most men would be squirming in this chair, trying to get as far away from me as they can. Positioning the clippers above her soft knuckle she doesn’t flinch or cry harder. If anything she calms, as if she’s left this existence and went somewhere else mentally. Interesting. I apply pressure, the sharp pinch of the blades touching her skin but she doesn’t respond in the slightest. This takes me aback, and I lift the clippers away from her skin, unhappy with my lack of results. Maybe she doesn’t understand the severity of her situation. What I am capable of with just a simple pair of wire cutters. I’ve cracked fucking ribs with these things. “You know, all it takes is the slightest bit of pressure for this to slice through the tissue of your finger and snap your bone like a stick,” I inform her. She continues to look ahead, not giving a fuck. “You’ll bleed a lot, and it will probably get an infection. Then your whole hand will turn colors as

your own blood poisons your body,” I continue, trying to scare her. My voice rugged and grim. “Just fucking do it if it will shut you up,” she shakes her head, looking the other way. What.The.Fuck? Anger pulses in my neck, my teeth gritting so hard I swear one cracks. Who does she think she’s fucking with? I push the blade into the flesh of her finger, and a trickle of blood slips down her finger and drips on the floor, but she just breathes through the pain as if it’s a mere papercut rather than rusty blades. I pull the wire cutters away before they go too deep, completely mind fucked by her lack of terror. I’m not enjoying this, why isn’t she screaming like a little bitch? I run the pad of my finger along the wire cutter to test its sharpness and it cuts my skin instantly. I furrow my brows unsure how to respond to this situation. “Are you ready to talk?” I ask, crossing my arms. Hoping she tells me something after the effort I just put in. She stays silent and lowers her head as I expected. What is wrong with this bitch?

I kick the chair, making her jump where she sits. Dark eyes glaring at me. “Where is Cross, Raven?” I demand, and a wolfish smile crosses her face before a deep laugh wracks her body. The sound fueling my fury I can’t help but lash out and dig my fingers into her sharp jaw, my nostrils flaring with the urge to crush it, and I could easily do so. She so soft, like a little kitten, one I could easily kill. The darkest brown eyes I’ve ever seen stare into me without a glint of and it’s fucking with my head. I was excited to play with her, now I want her to talk and get the fuck out of my existence. “This will go a lot easier if you just fucking give the asshole up, cupcake,” I insult, and she tries to head-butt me, but I swerve out of the way. My eyes widen at her bravery, my mouth parting with disbelief at the amount of fight she has in her. I know this bitch was raised by the ways of Cross, but holy shit if she isn’t tough. Dropping the clippers on the floor, I whip my knife from its sheath and put it up against her silky soft neck, and her snarky little smile fades, her eyes

looking up at me as she crooks her neck as far back as it can go. One swipe of this machete against her neck and she will bleed out in seconds. Then again I will have failed my club and gotten nothing out of her, and my playtime will end. Decisions, decisions. I notice her bottom lip barely tremble, and pleasure fills my chest like a tidal wave. Her eyes dart to mine and I can’t help but smile in return. She knows I saw that little bit of panic. The pale face look I’ve been searching for masking her pretty skin. For her to know I am in control of her life, and she will obey me from now on puts everything back at play. “I will slice you the fuck open, do you understand that?” I growl through clenched teeth, trying to contain myself as I press the blade into her silky skin. My hand sweats on the handle as I stare down at this mystical creature. “You don’t scare me,” she whispers, and the words sting as if I just cut my own throat. “Then you’re stupid. I’ve taken many lives with this machete and if I have to, I will take yours. It’s

just another ghost to me.” I shrug, my tone indifferent. Swallowing, her eyes flutter as she stares at me with a hard look. Her thick lashes casting a shadow on her dark eyes. I’ve never seen eyes like hers before, they look black. Matching her hair. Maybe that’s why they call her Raven. “Your tactics are weak. I’ve been through hell, been through pain and I’m not afraid to die,” she states seriously, her face stoic and eyes cold. It unhinges something in me so dark and feral I can barely breathe. Something I can relate to. I want to pull her from this chair and shake her, strangle her until the fear I seek peaks in the depths of her eyes. What can I say, I’m fucked up. A woman broke my heart and I’ve never been around one I could look in the eyes since. I’ll never feel that powerless, vulnerable, fucking scared again. Love broke me, and love is what made me an animal. I once loved a woman who didn’t feel the same about me, she wanted someone else and that would never happen while my cold heart was still beating. The day I was going to murder them both for

betraying me, Zeek found me in a hardware store where I was seeking the perfect tool to kill them with- A machete. He talked me down and gave me a home, and a purpose. Placing me as a member of the Sin City Outlaws. It worked for a little awhile, but I couldn’t stand to see her with someone else so I killed her lover, only to find out that her loss was too much for her to bear so she took her own life. My wife killed herself because I killed her lover. I am responsible for losing her for good. It was two and a half years ago, but the scars on my soul never healed and I became numb. I became this. I can never get close to a woman again. I can’t go through that pain of losing someone I love. I get too attached; too dominant for them to handle. “You won’t break her like that,” A female voice sounds behind me. Turning around Alessandra, my Vice President Felix’s girlfriend, stands there with her arms crossed, eyes teary. Alessandra’s brown hair is up in a ponytail and she’s wearing a pair of

gym looking clothes. Cute and athletic as usual. She used to be a fucking cop until she fell hard for Felix and turned to our side. Angry she’s here, I pull away from Raven and step outside the room, slamming the metal door behind me so Raven doesn’t see her. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I scold. How did she even find this place? Where is Felix? This is club business, and she needs to let us handle this shit. Raven kidnapped Alessandra trying to settle a score, but she was working for Cross the whole time. For Alessandra to be here, it’s dangerous. “I needed to see her, to see that you had her under control. She’s not going to be like anyone you’ve um… tortured before, Machete.” She rubs the back of her neck anxiously. “She’s conditioned to withstand this kind of thing,” she informs with a trembling voice. Raven and Alessandra were taken as kids and raised to be criminals by Cross. They were found at an older age, and Alessandra doesn’t remember much about her time as a prisoner, but from what I understand… Raven remembers it all.

Standing straight I catch that she might be onto something, as my knife to Raven’s neck and almost clipping her fucking finger off did nothing. Most men would be pissing themselves by now. “Yeah, I got the part of her not being normal,” I sneer. “She’s not scared of pain, you’ll have to dig much deeper,” she whispers the last part as if she remembers the pain of her past. I flick a brow, maybe she does remember something. “Care to share?” I implore, and she just shoots me a grim look. She isn’t spilling shit, either because she can’t remember or she doesn’t want to. “So what do you want me to do, tear her heart out?” I ask with furrowed brows, confused what she means by dig deeper. “Getting past the ribs will be a bitch but it can be done,” I inform, rubbing the back of my neck as I think what I have on hand that would even get through that kind of bone easily. Her eyes widen at my savage statement, and I look at her with a side-eye. Did I say something wrong? “What? No, like mental warfare. Take her

back to the days she was a kid trapped in that cage or something.” She looks down, before looking up at me through wet lashes. “Can I see her?” My heart skips a beat that she wants in there with that devil bitch. Alessandra has dark circles under her eyes, and now that I’m close enough I can tell she hasn’t slept. She looks like shit. “No. It’s not safe,” I clip, and she frowns. Her phone rings some girly song, and she startles. Shoving a hand down her bra she pulls out her cell phone. By the look on her face, I can tell it’s Felix, probably looking for her. She quiets the phone, shoving it back in her bra. “How did you find this place?” I ask. Only patch holders of the Sin City Outlaws know of this place. If Felix told her, I’ll beat his ass. “I’m a cop. Was a cop,” she corrects herself as if that answers everything. “Let me know if I can help.” Giving a weak smile she turns and walks out without another word. Well, that was fucking awkward. Rubbing my bottom lip with my thumb I look at the metal door containing my prisoner. Being an

asshole isn’t getting me anywhere, maybe if I’m nice she will open up some? Trust me and shit. That sounds fucking stupid now that I think it, but I’ve seen people break for some stupid shit. Rolling my eyes, I go over to the sink and fill a half clean glass with some tap water. Cup in my hand, I head back into the cell and hunch in front of Raven. Her dark eyes fall on mine, her arms tied to the chair and legs spread to each ankle is bound. She kind of reminds me of that chick in The Ring. “Drink some water,” I try to ask nicely, but my tone of voice is laced with hardness. She doesn’t reply, so I hold it up to her lips and surprisingly she takes some into her mouth. I smile that she accepted, maybe I’m heading in the right direction after all. Her porn star lips wrap around the glass perfectly and it makes my dick jolt in my jeans. Just as I pull the glass away her lips pucker and she spits cold spitty water right into my face. “Fucking bitch!” Standing up straight. I use my arm to wipe my face off and stare daggers at her. Being nice is off the fucking table!

She giggles, proud of herself and I want to shove this glass down her goddamn throat. I throw what is left of the water into her face and she chokes on it mid laugh. Not looking, I throw the cup over my shoulder and it breaks in the other room. She blows water off her lips, her eyes blinking rapidly. Raven has been through it all, and if I’m going to break her, I’m going to have to do more to her than anyone before me. Like Alessandra said, I’m going to have to get in her head. I’ll have to beat the hellish life bestowed upon her and take it to the next level. That or she’s done fighting and is trying to get me to end her suffering. “If you’re trying to get me to kill you, you’re going to have to try a lot harder than that,” I growl with a heated tone. Her eyes flash with anger and she closes her eyes. Her nostrils flaring as she breathes. Her pink lips suddenly part as she takes a deep breath, and I can’t help but raise my hand and run the pad of my finger over her soft wet lips. Her eyes snap open from my delicate touch, and I jerk

my hand back. Rubbing my index finger and thumb together as if I might still be able to feel her silkiness. She’s so soft, and angry. There’s no denying she’s gorgeous, and my kind of woman. Psycho. Needing a break from her darkness, I step outside of the room and sit on the couch. She raises her head, peering at me from under thick lashes. It’s sexy to see her helpless. God, she’s fucking something. It makes me wonder why Zeek picked me to do this. He knows how I feel about being around women. Sprawling my arms out along the back of the couch we stare at each other, our eyes doing the talking as the tension in the room escalates to all new levels. She runs her tongue along her bottom lip, soaking up some water droplets, before tucking it between her white teeth. Her striking beauty makes me breathless. I can’t do what is expected of me if all I can think about is touching her and looking at her. I could sit

here on this shitty couch all day and watch her. The smell of mildew and lack of sunlight worth it. Standing from the couch, I need to do something to make my ass focus on the job at hand. Heading into her room, my boots thud against the floor, catching her attention. Her head whips in my direction, her bound body keeping it to where she can’t look at me fully as I step behind her. I fist her blanket of black hair, jerking her head back. Her errant eyes meet mine and her mouth parts. I clench my fingers around her locks, strands snapping from my harsh grip, and she whimpers, that excites me. It’s something to show I’m in control, not her. The smell of something spicy and fruity wafts around me and I can’t help but bend down and run my nose along the arch right behind her ear. If this is what sin smells like, douse me in it. Fuck! I shake my head trying to pull myself together. Fisting my machete, I press it under the ponytail in my other grip. Her shoulders go taut, her body tensing.

“What are you doing?” She jerks at her restraints, the sound of her near hyperventilating the fuel I long for. I slice the blade through her silky hair, watching it feather to the floor. She gasps, her eyes widening like saucers, her eyes filling with tears as she comes to realize I cut it. Bending down I pick up a black lock of hair and dangle it in between my middle finger and index finger right in front of her. “YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!” she cries, her body shaking with rage as if I just cut her delicate skin and not her damn hair. The chair rocks as she goes nuts, that wall of defiance breaking brick by brick. She’s hysterical, and fuck me if it’s not amazing to see. Her jaw clenches, tears slipping out of her raw eyes. It takes me aback that something as simple as me cutting her hair makes her break rather than a knife to her throat. And it did nothing to fade her beauty, she’s still gorgeous with choppy black hair. “Are we so shallow that cutting your hair makes you angry, Black Beauty?” I chuckle. A tear slips down her cheek, her nostrils flaring as she

stares at me with hatred. I have no doubt if she was released from that chair she would try everything in her power to kill me. It’s tempting really. “I don’t give a fuck about how I look,” she replies with a hard voice. Standing back, I observe her reaction, curious why she flipped out I cut her hair then. Dig deeper. “Then why are you crying?” I ask. Seeing sadness leak from someone so strong. Smirking, I thumb it off her face and look down at her. “Because I’m so fucking mad and can’t do anything about it!” she seethes, and that is when I realize, this issue has a grave much deeper than I would have thought. “Did Cross cut your hair?” I assume, and her face turns a shade of pink telling me I’m onto something, her anger fading into something else. That stoic look that takes her to another place, slowly slipping over her face. Bending down, I fist each arm of the chair, making sure my face is right in hers. Tear filled eyes look right back at me, her cheeks flushed from anger. I can’t help but smell her being this close.

She’s sweet and innocent, and I can’t decide if I want to hurt her or devour her. Maybe both. “I’m paving this road to hell, Raven, it’s up to you how we get there.” I need to take her back to when she was a kid, and without Alessandra knowing much about that time and Raven not giving up shit. I’m going to have to guess what it was like being locked in a cage as a kid and forced to fight to live. “Fuck you,” she seethes so quietly it’s almost a whisper. Her forehead sweats, her face flushing. “You couldn’t handle my cock baby,” I sneer, but my dick hardens thinking about me sinking into her pussy. I wonder if she’s loose or tight. Shaven or bare, or maybe she has that little strip right down the center. “You fuck a lot of men or are you a prude?” I can’t help but ask. Head lowered she peers at me through hooded eyes, her jaw ticking with uncontrollable anger. I laugh in response. “A girl growing up without a daddy, I’m going to say you like the cock,” I assume, but she doesn’t reply. Striding behind her, she doesn’t move. “Then

again, you could hate men so much, maybe you play for the other team?” I run my finger over the nape of her neck and her little hairs stand on end. Having enough for now, I turn to leave and turn the one lonely light off on my way out. I can hear her jerk in her restraints as she whimpers. “Wait!” she screams bloody murder, and it’s like fucking music to my ears. I stop to turn, hoping she’s going to tell me something I want to hear. “Please, turn the light back on!” she begs, and a wolfish smile fills my face. We hit the begging stage. This woman amazes me. “Are we afraid of the dark?” I tilt my head to the side. She jerks both hands, her cheeks hollowing out as she uses all of the muscle in her body to pull free from the rope. “Don’t do it, please don’t leave me in the dark!” Her voice laced with despair that ignites my inner beast. Lowering my head, my eyes gleaming at hers I silently tell her who her master is. “Nighty night, pet,” and I slam the door shut, the lights off. The sound of the heavy door closing echoes through the underground confinement that

makes up my home until my job is done. “Come back here, please!” The sound of her pulling and jerking in the chair sounds through the thick door. I stand there, mystified that she’s terrified of the dark, petrified even. Interesting… Scratching my beard, I eye the door curious how the fuck I’m going to go about this. Normally I would cut a finger off or slice a captive’s cheek open until you see teeth. But she’s not scared of pain, it won’t work. But she’s fucking terrified of something as simple as the fucking dark. I’m out of my league here. This isn’t going to be easy.

MY EYES ARE WIDE OPEN but all I see is pitch black. It’s silent, the only sound to be heard is the rhythm of my fear slamming against my chest like a jackhammer against unbreakable concrete. It’s so dark in here it’s deafening. My mouth is dry, and my lips tremble from the sudden darkness that blankets my skin in coldness. I can’t move my fingers from the restricted flow of the ropes secured tightly around my sore wrists, and my neck aches from sitting in this hard chair. I feel sick to my stomach from that fucking morphine too. It smells like an old basement in here, like mildew with the faint metallic smell of blood in the air as well. I begin to squirm where I sit, as my need to pee is becoming uncomfortable. Something crawls across my hand and I jerk my arm trying to

free it from the unknown critter. I can’t see what it is and I squeal as I pull as hard as I can against the ropes. The burn against the skin no match for my fear of the dark. I’m terrified of the dark and feel smothered to the point I can barely breathe. It’s like I’m in a coffin, buried alive and nobody can hear me… or doesn’t care. It comes from a past of being locked in the dark so long you can’t tell what time of day it is… or what day it is for that matter. A past I can’t let go of or move on from because it’s all I know. Machete is even more intimidating up close than a feral animal. His shoulders are wide, and biceps large. His angular jaw strong, and emerald eyes piercing and cold. His red hair shaggy falling in his face in that menacing way it does. One look in my direction has me holding my breath, and squeeze my thighs together as a rush of arctic air falls upon my skin like snow in the depth of winter. He’s handsome. In a crazy Psycho kind of way. When he was running after me in the desert his footsteps were heavy, strong, and made my heart pick up its pace. I didn’t even know my heart could

do that anymore, and it excited me to know I was still alive somewhere deep inside. I furrow my brows in thought remembering his leather cut held an Enforcer patch instead of a Road Captain one. Last time I saw Machete he held the position of a Road Captain, he must have been promoted recently. An enforcer protects all of the patch holders and protects the club’s reputation in any type of conflict. He assists all members of the club in combat in any type of weapon or fistfights. He is basically the fucking Rocky for the club. Machete looks every bit of the part too. He’s an animal, a beast with no compassion. I’ll have to dig up the strength of the little girl that I once was if I’m going to survive this, push my fear to the back and overcome the man that may have a past darker than my own. A life so bleak that we’re constantly moving and tracing our steps from the past that we don’t see what is in front of us until it’s too late. We’re soulless creatures walking amongst the living. I’m so fucked. I’m trapped again, locked away and kept prisoner. I begin to hyperventilate thinking

about it, and I squeeze my eyes shut trying to calm myself. Why won’t they just kill me and get it over with? The darkness, the mildew smell. It’s all too familiar, like deja vu. I can’t believe he cut my fucking hair, just like when I was kidnapped and caged by Cross as a child. They butchered my hair to the point you couldn’t tell if I was a girl or boy. A control tactic. It may seem insignificant, but it mattered to a little girl who had nothing but time to braid her hair in a dirt filled cage. I hang my head as I cry softly to myself. I once thought I’d escape my past, but how can I if my past is who I am. How do I kill the demon inside of me without killing myself? I’m a fucked up misfit. Capable of nothing but savage ruthless acts and nothing more. Jerking my head up I scream. “Please!” I beg one more time, knowing it’s useless but sitting here in the dark, flashbacks try and take over my line of sight. Twirling my hair, I listen to the bats chirp overhead. The dirt sticks to my knees and is causing a red rash to form across the skin.

“Raven, you’re up!” my handler informs, stepping in front of my cage. He always calls me Black or Raven. Depends what mood he’s in. He’s tall and wears a bandanna over the lower half of his face, the fabric made up of a skull’s jaw. He’s bald and has the craziest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. I swallow back my fear and lift my chin. I will win this round. I will make my handler proud. We are all here for a purpose, to serve and fight. For what? I don’t know, they haven’t told us yet. But if I win, I get food, so who cares? He bends down unlocking the silver bars that trap me in my mud hole. Slowly I crawl out, my legs and arms stiff from the small space. I stretch my arms above my head and my stomach cramps painfully. I haven’t eaten in days, and I was given very little water yesterday so my motivation for winning today is at its highest. “Move it,” my handler says hatefully, before nudging me in the back with a silver pole. He hardly touches me with hand-to-hand contact, he always uses a metal rod to instruct me around. As if he’s herding sheep. Heading out of the darkness

it begins to get lighter as the hole in the ceiling protrudes sun. I smile, who knew something as small as the sun could bring such happiness. It’s warmth on my skin reminding me that I’m still alive, and one day I will dance in the sun. As soon as I step foot into the sunshine, Brown 5, my opponent steps out from the other side of the room. The hairs on the back of my neck rise, my head lowering as my body tenses into fight mode. I blink slowly, she’s strong and I hate her. I go hungry every day because she is greedy and can’t let me win one fucking fight. Screaming, she comes at me, and I dodge out of the way quickly. Using a high kick, I slam my foot into the back of her head and she falls to the ground fast, her nose slamming into the dirt. Climbing on top of her, my long braided hair falls over my shoulder and she reaches behind her and grabs the ends of it, tugging it hard, she flips us until she’s on top. Her fingers wrap around my neck like a collar and squeeze. My eyes bug out as my heart starts drumming in my chest harder than I can breathe. Using the same tactic, I try and

strangle her back, but blackness surrounds my vision first. She’s suddenly lifted off me and I choke back to life. I turn over and spit onto the ground trying to catch my breath. My handler pulls me up by my hair, disappointed in my lack of fighting, and shoves me back into the dark hallway. My head hangs as I know I will go another couple days without food. At least until my injuries heal and I can fight again. Just as I’m about to crawl back into my cage, my handler fists my long braid, halting me where I stand. He wraps it around his hand, jerking me back. “What are you doing?” I ask, trying to look over my shoulder. Pulling a big knife from his pocket he slices it through my hair, chopping it, and cutting it from every angle. I cry, trying to pull away from him but it does no good. When he’s done he pushes me down into the dirt and I slowly crawl into my cage. Grasping the bars with both hands, I scream with rage and he locks it uncaring. Weeping, I run my fingertips through what is

left of my hair. It’s uneven and choppy. I can’t braid it or do anything with it now. Sliding to the back of the mud hole, my head falls against the cold metal bars as I silently cry. They take everything from me. Everything. Brown 5 is the reason for my pain. I hate her. The sound Machete’s voice takes me from my flashback. “Man, if I’m going to be here I need some basic shit to live. Like, some weed, music or a fucking TV would be nice, and get me some fucking Fruit Loops or sandwich crap, there’s shit here to eat.” Machete orders, the sound of his voice rugged even through the metal door. I wait for a responding voice, but there’s nothing but silence. He must be on the phone and alone in the other room. “No she hasn’t given up anything yet, but I’m just getting started.” The commitment in his voice makes my chest tighten. I’m so screwed. I hang my head, knowing he won’t give up until I tell him something. Cross is an enemy of theirs

and the more I sit here I doubt Cross will come for me. What has Cross really given me? My brows pinch together thinking about the hell that man has put me through, the things he’s taken from me just for himself. My stomach churns thinking about my lost family, the childhood I never had, and the idea that I may die in this shit-hole all because of Cross. He led me right into the arms of the Sin City Outlaws, using my grudge against Alessandra to do his dirty work. That motherfucker! It’s now that I realize… he’s an enemy of mine too. He won’t save me, he probably hopes they’ll kill me. Then again, I am the only prodigy left of his so-called crew so if he comes for me, it’s just because he wants to use me. My teeth graze my bottom lip deep in thought, snot threatening to drip from my nose from my wave of mood swings. Still, if I tell the Outlaws where Cross is, what’s stopping them from killing me after they get what they want. What if Cross wants to kill me because he thinks I’m a risk now?

Cross is the man that gives the reaper a run for his money. He’s the fucking Devil ordering out which souls to be taken and when. It’s just a matter of time before my name is whispered from the lips of thy majesty. That is exactly what he is; my majesty. He’s played the strings of my heart until I couldn’t feel anymore, the common feeling of emotion bleak and cold. I’m broken. Machete thinks he can break me, but he can’t break what’s already been destroyed, and Cross did that to me when he took me away from my family when I was a little girl and filled my heart with abuse. He gave me a life full of bad memories, and numbness. He says he taught me to be a survivor, but sitting here in this fucking chair. I’m not so sure anymore…

I jerk awake from the light being turned on. I wince in reaction, my mouth dry and I have to pee so bad

my bladder feels like it’s about to burst open right where I sit. The smell of mildew and concrete reminds me where I am and I try to blink the sleep from my eyes. A man that is not Machete blurs in front of me, and my fingers curl around the arms of the chair in anxiousness. He has short dark hair and tattoos up and down his arms. He’s young looking and is familiar but I can’t put a name on him. An Outlaw for sure, that leather cut telling me so. I just can’t read his name. “Who are you?” I ask sleepily, my body stiff and sore from this fucking chair. I can’t see my toes, but I also can’t feel them being roped so tight to the legs. I bet they’re purple. “Mac,” he responds toneless. “If you fuck with me, I will leave you here in the dark again. Do you understand?” he clips, showcasing a gun inside of his leather cut. “That little stunt in the van was enough to have me shoot you in the damn foot right now.” I thought he looked familiar. That asshole drugged me. I owe him a kick in the teeth.

“I- I need to pee,” I respond, ignoring his threat. Deep inside my chest burns that they found out I’m terrified of the dark. They will use it against me now. “She needs to pee,” Mac hollers with an amused tone. Machete steps into the room with a beer in his hand and a blunt hanging from his mouth carelessly. His red hair is tousled and messy, his black leather vest no match for his large chest and even bigger biceps. “Is that right?” He tilts his head to the side. This game we play with our eyes still going strong, so I stare back at him. “Tell me where Cross is and I’ll let you use the toilet.” He juts his head to the corner. Following his direction, I find a silver toilet just feet away, it doesn’t help my bladder any seeing it. As if knowing it’s right there makes my mind think it’s ready to release. Closing my eyes, I slowly breathe through my nose. I don’t have to pee. I don’t have to pee. “You didn’t think it was going to be that easy,

did you?” Mac laughs at Machete. Looking over Mac’s shoulder, I stare at Machete who watches me closely. As if he’s never seen me before, or as if he’s fascinated with me. Like I’m the only woman in the world. It’s weird, yet my body finds it as a turn-on. Pulling a small knife from his back pocket Mac slices through the ropes that hold my hands in place. The blood rushes to my fingers so fast it hurts, and I can’t move them. Bending down he slices the ties on my ankles too, and the same reaction happens as blood regains its original path. It hurts so fucking much. “Stand up,” he orders, aiming a gun right at my skull. “You have to give me a second, you tied those things so tight my legs and hands aren’t ready to move,” I snap. Mac stands back, huffing. On shaky legs I try to stand, and the piss I was holding slams down so hard in my bladder, warmth floods my panties. I look down as pee drips down my legs, tears threatening to spill from my eyes from the

humiliation. I just peed myself. Oh my God. “Great, she pissed herself,” Mac mumbles irritated. “Are you serious?” Machete asks with a bored tone. “I told you I needed to fucking pee!” More emotion than I wanted to display laces in my tone. Reaching outward, Mac pushes me to the left where a steel toilet sits and he shoves me down hard. It’s cold against my thighs, and I shiver in reaction. “Are you done or do you still need to go?” Machete asks from the doorway. Ignoring him I hang my head, I feel humiliated. I just urinated on myself, but the relief is so blissful I almost could care less. Looking up through my wet lashes, Machete’s eyes fall on mine, and the way he stares at me is too direct, too intense, so I look the other way. “You can’t just let her sit in her piss, man,” Mac stands up for me, and it takes me aback. “What do you not get about her being the enemy. That I’m supposed to torture her for intel?”

Machete snaps. Mac’s shoulders rise as he looks at me with sympathy. If he really knew me, he wouldn’t look at me like that. “I don’t know. I guess that’s why Zeek picked you to do this shit and not me,” Mac scoffs. Machete shakes his head, walking further into the room. His broad shoulders taut and lost ivy eyes looking right at me. My gaze falls to his mouth, noticing the perfect arch of his upper lip and the slightest scar along the outer edge of the bottom one. “Go, I’ll take care of it,” Machete responds stepping in front of Mac. I jerk my eyes from looking his face over and glare in his direction. Rage building in my chest as I sit here in my own piss. The warmth of it starting to chill and cause a blanket of goose bumps to race down my legs. “Stand up,” he snaps his fingers pointing up. My body tenses as he orders me around like a dog. “Why?” I sass. “Because you smell like piss.” He tilts his head to the side with a condescending tone. “Whose fault is that?” I rebuttal.

“Yours for being a fucking idiot and trying to cross us,” he clips. Biting my tongue, I flex my fingers that ache from the stupid ropes that were tied too tight. Out of patience, he suddenly grips me by the arm and yanks me up off the toilet. His touch harsh and fingers bruising my skin. “Get off me!” I jerk from his callused hand and rub at the soreness his fingers left behind. He looks down at me, a cold soulless look in his eyes holding me captive. His shoulders rise with a large inhale. “Take your shorts off.” He juts his head toward my bottoms. I blink. “Excuse me?” “Take them off or I will do it for you,” he replies with no emotion in his voice. He pulls his Machete from his side, and I know then he will slice my shorts off in one swipe if I don’t obey. Crossing my arms, I look toward the other room to hide my discomfort. “Do I least get some privacy?” I can’t help but ask.

“No, you don’t get shit. You’re lucky I’m doing what I’m doing.” Machete’s thick eyebrows rise as he spews his hatred toward me. He’s so handsome, it’s a shame he’s a dick. “What is it you’re doing exactly?” I whisper, and Mac suddenly appears in the doorway with a sandwich. My mouth waters at the sight of it, my stomach growling. Stuck where I stand my eyes flicker between Mac and Machete, scared of what they have planned. Machete sighs heavily and reaches for the button on my shorts. I jump back, my legs wobbly from the rope burns around my ankles. “I’ll do it!” I croak, jerking my hands up to keep him away from me. Tilting his head to the side, he takes a step back but his eyes never leave mine. Slowly, I unbutton my shorts and slide them down my thighs, then my legs. My chest sinks and my teeth press into my bottom lip tightly. My pink panties are on full display for both Outlaws as I undress in front of them. My heart races in my

chest, and my hands hesitate to cover myself. I’ve never shown this much skin in front of two men before. I stand straight and lift my chin for effect. Telling myself I’m not scared, and it’s just a body. Machete’s eyes that are usually cold and emotionless look like they’re on fire, and his chest is raised as he takes in my long tanned legs and ass cheeks that play peek a boo with the material of my panties. He has no shame looking me up and down, the look of hunger igniting in the depth of his eyes. “Damn!” Mac compliments, but I just stare straight ahead at Machete. Our eyes locking in place with one another. Keeping his stare steadily on mine, he holds his hand out to Mac who places a metal cuff with a chain attached to it in the palm of Machete’s hand. My brows furrow at it, unsure what it’s for. Machete steps up to me, and bends down near my feet and clasps the metal cuff around my ankle. The coldness is like ice against my skin, and it hurts amongst the rope burns on my ankles. His hand snakes across the chain links until an end appears and he jerks it causing me to stumble forward like a

pet on a leash. “Follow me, pet,” Machete orders, pulling me along like a slave. Exiting the cell, we head into the main room. It’s small, just a little bigger than my cell. There is a counter with a sink and stovetop. What I don’t see is windows or a sign of escape. Suddenly Machete turns left where a wooden door I didn’t notice sits. He flips the light on displaying a bathroom. A white ceramic toilet, showerhead bolted into the wall, and drain in the corner. It’s bare, and reminds me of a prison bathroom you’d see on TV more than anything. Machete struts to a heater welded to the wall I didn’t notice before, and wraps the chain around it, reaching in his pocket, he pulls out a lock and snaps it in place. “Shower, piss, do whatever. You got ten minutes,” Machete informs as he walks out the door. “Aren’t you going to shut the door?” I ask. I plead for some privacy. Maybe with him looking the other way I can put something together in here for a weapon to escape.

Machete walks back in the room and glances at the wooden door. His eyes ablaze, and jaw ticking. “You mean this door?” I raise a brow knowing I’m not going to like what comes next. He fists both sides of the wooden door and tears it off the hinges as if it was made of graham crackers. My jaw drops as it splinters and breaks in his grip. My eyes widen, and I have to bite my lip to keep from whimpering. I underestimated his strength. I’m so fucked. “Dude, Zeek is going to kill you!” Mac laughs, observing the destruction all over the floor. Machete glares at me, and my nostrils flare in reply. Fucking animal. Now I have no chance of escaping. I have no privacy, not even a fucking shower curtain for Christ’s sake. There’s a toilet, drain, and showerhead. That’s it. Nothing to hide my naked body from wandering, savage eyes. Mac and Machete walk the other way, and I stand there unsure if I want to shower or not. “Eight minutes left!” Machete hollers from the

other room. I roll my eyes. I can’t believe he’s actually counting down. Gritting my teeth, I opt for getting the damn shower. Who knows when I’ll get another chance, and I’m soaked in urine and dirt. I pull my shirt off but decide to keep my panties and bra on. It’s like a swimsuit I tell myself. Grabbing the cold metal steel that makes up the knob I turn on the hot water. Razor blades of water pelt into my skin and I wince trying to move my body just right to where it doesn’t hurt as much. Jerking my ankle bracelet, I try to get a little more under the waterfall, but it’s no use. I’m barely within reach of the water and it’s slicing into my skin like hail. “Here’s some soap.” I jump where I stand and cross my arms over my chest to turn around. Machete holds up a green bottle of shampoo with a green apple printed on the front. His cold eyes hold mine as he tries to resist looking my semi-naked body over. My heart beats a little harder knowing he has some compassion in

there somewhere not to eye fuck me. Then again, my nipples perk wanting him to look. “Why are you being so nice?” I ask, reaching for the soap. If I’m his prisoner, why would he care if I smell like fucking apples. “I’m not being nice, the ventilation in here sucks and I don’t want to smell your piss all night,” he informs rudely. Popping the plastic top to the shampoo I look down at it and inhale a shaky breath. “So, I’m going back to the chair after this I suppose,” I mumble. Realizing apple shampoo is the best I’m going to get out of this animal. I know I’m the enemy, but they don’t know my story. They don’t know the hell I’ve been through to make me the way I am. “Probably,” he retorts, before walking out. Shaking my head, I turn around and continue my shower knowing deep down I’m a dead girl.

“YOU DON’T LOOK LIKE you’ve gotten anywhere with that bitch,” Mac states, sitting on the couch, each arm sprawled out on each side along the back. His dark hair is tousled and messy, his intricate tattoos climbing up his neck and arms. He’s probably the handsome-ist of us all, and he fucking knows it. Prick. I scoff in reply, continuing my manic pacing of the floor. I feel like a prisoner down here myself without any sunlight or fresh air. This is an old bunker under our warehouse that holds illegal ammo, the same place I’ve tortured others and gotten what I’ve needed with no problems. This time though... It’s different. She’s different. “What’s the longest it’s taken you to get someone to snitch?” Mac asks, reading my mind. I was just thinking how I’ve gotten further with

others in this amount of time. “Forty-eight hours,” I clip, remembering the particular ass-wipe I broke like it was yesterday. We were on a run to pick up some drugs and nobody showed up. Zeek found a prospect of the club we were doing business with and gave him to me, and though he put up a tough fight, he gave in eventually. They were going to take our money and not supply the goods. That didn’t end well for anyone in that club. “And how long have you had her?” Mac tilts his head toward the bathroom that holds the shitty shower. “Awhile,” I reply, rubbing the stubble on my chin. Warmth hits my cheeks as I get angry at where he’s taking this. Doubting my skills. Mac chuckles. “I bet money you don’t get her to crack in thirty-eight hours,” he challenges me. “From now?” I ask with pinched brows. “From now,” he clarifies with a nod. “It’s a bet,” I accept. But my gut has me second guessing my cockiness. Raven isn’t like anyone I’ve come across before. I have no leverage over

her as she has no loved ones or family. She has nobody. I am searching in the dark for things to break this woman with. A hard past I know nothing but pieces about. “Hey, get ahold of Felix and have him ask Alessandra for an address to where Raven was living, maybe I can dig something up to help bring this along,” I instruct. Hoping wherever she lived there will be pictures, hobbies, maybe a fucking pet I can use against her. Something. Mac sighs, standing from the couch slowly, his arms stretched up he yawns. “You’re the boss,” he replies on an exhale, and I scoff. Stepping into the bathroom, Raven’s head whips in my direction. Her black hair is short and wet, framing her face perfectly, droplets of water hanging from her thick lashes as she stares at me with a lost look. Those pink perky lips part just before she tucks her bottom lip between her teeth. Her body is soaked, her pink lace bra and matching panties wet and leaving very little to the imagination. Her nipples are dark against her skin,

and she looks to have some light pubic hair beneath the material of those bottoms. Most girls that fuck around don’t keep a little bush like that, my dick pulses thinking of how inexperienced she might be. The things I could teach her… I look down, pinching the bridge of my nose. Reminding myself that she betrayed us, hurt my brotherhood, and is a target. My president wants her to hurt and that is what I intend to do. “Time’s up,” I bark, she sighs and turns the water off. Unlocking the chain from the heater, I jerk it and she stumbles behind me. Her wet feet pitterpattering behind me as we pass the wall of pain. That’s what I call it as that’s what it’s intended for. A table and wall full of shit to torture people with. I don’t even know what some of the tools do. She stops mid-walk making the chain tight. Her mouth drops, her eyes filling with tears as she gasps at the sight. I can’t help the smirk that passes my face, the terror wracking her pretty little head is a dent in that hard exterior of hers. Turning around I step up behind her as she stares at the weapons with her

jaw dropped in astonishment. Against my better judgment, I run both my hands up the crook of her neck, my nose nuzzling in the back of her wet hair. She smells of forbidden apples. “Which one should we use first? Hmm?” I whisper into the back of her wet head. “We could have some fun with a couple of these,” I taunt, and I try to scare her. Maybe she’ll turn around and claw at me to save her. “You’re… You’re an animal,” she stammers, and I can’t help but laugh. My body feeds into her terror, and I pull her back flush with my front. “I can fuck like one too,” I breathe against her huskily. Slightly she turns her head, her lashes fluttering quickly as she takes in a quick breath. As humans, we try to hide what we’re feeling but our eyes speak louder than we realize, and Raven’s just told me she like my inner animal. Inhaling her apple scent one last time, I let go of her neck and step in front of her. I jerk the metal chain, forcing her to follow me back into her cell. When she steps foot into the room, I grip her by the arm and just as I’m about to place her in the pissed soaked chair she

digs the heels of her feet into the floor and resists. “I’m not fucking sitting in that chair!” She pulls at her chains, a scowl passing her face. “Excuse me?” My brows narrow at her tone. She’s a brave woman defying me after just showing her the wall of pain. “You heard me. I didn’t just shower just to go back into a pissed stained chair,” she clarifies. My chest rises with rage, and I slowly saunter up to her. My movement mimicking a curious cobra. “You will sit where I fucking make you sit. Do you understand?” I whisper in her face, her eyes dancing back and forth between mine. “Go for it, just try and make me sit there,” she mutters back, the fire on her tongue sparking something inside my chest I haven’t felt in a long time. Maybe I underestimated her fear looking at the wall of pain. Maybe she’s not scared at all but intrigued. Nostrils flaring, I reach for her and she high kicks me in the chest. The impact makes me take a few steps back, my arms flailing sideways.

Not backing down, she pulls the chain from her foot and wraps it around my neck before she busts her forehead into mine. Black wet hair whipping me in the face in the process. Pressure and warmth slip across my head just as she falls to the ground, the hit too great for her to take. Like a spider, she grabs at the ground for purchase as she tries to make her way to the door to escape. Shaking away the stars behind my eyes, I grit my teeth and grip the chain that is still attached to her ankle. I jerk it so hard she flies backward onto the hard concrete like something out of a movie. Her back slamming against the ground, arms flailing everywhere. A loud gasp escapes her tempting lips as the wind is knocked from her small body. Standing, I pull the chain toward me, link by link, and her body slides closer and closer to me. Her eyes roll in her head as she’s languid and not fighting back at all. Her forehead is bleeding where she hit me, and the sight of it unravels me. My dick becoming hard at the sight of her defiance and strength.

Bending down, I pick her up and throw her wet body over my shoulder, sauntering over to the shitty cot in the corner, I toss her limp body onto it. The springs squeak and resists as she rolls back and forth and moans and gasps for air. Taking the chain, I lock it to the cot that is bolted to the floor. It’s a twin bed with a thin shitty mattress. I don’t even know why it’s in here. Blood drips from her head and it captivates me, summoning me in a way I don’t understand. Staring down at her, I observe the look of her soft cheeks and supple lips, the fucking smell she puts off alone corrupts me into a delusional man. She’s breaking every rule I have about being around a female this long, yet I can’t seem to stay away. I can’t resist her. I press my thumb into the blood and smear an M with it on her chest. I don’t know why I do it, I have no reason behind making it an M. Something deep inside of me just wants my initial on her skin. Gripping her by her wet hair, I curl my fingers in it tightly, her hair snapping in my grip. A soft mewl whispers from her lips in response. Lowering my face, I feel her breath against my face, her

eyelashes fluttering as she’s barely conscious. “Where is Cross?” I seethe. Hoping her daze and pain will make her say something she doesn’t mean. If she would just fucking tell me, then I could get far away from her. Her warm breath licks across my lips as she whimpers in my hold. Her eyes fluttering as she uses her elbows to push herself off the mattress, her face getting closer to mine as she quickly gains her strength back. My heart skips a beat thinking she’s finally going to give in and give me what I want. “Go… fuck yourself,” she whispers before teeth bite into my lip so hard a roar throttles my chest. I tear away from her, my hand throwing her head back onto the mattress. She begins to laugh hysterically, and rage fuels every vessel in my body. My eyes cloud with a hostile darkness and I pull my knife from its sheath and press it up against her throat. Her last giggle making her throat press into the blade just enough for it to scratch the skin. Her laugh fades, her eyes looking into mine.

Lost, dark eyes that see right through everything I am. God, I want her to cry or beg me to stop. I need her to know I’m in control. I need her to hate me, loathe me goddamn it. “Scream for me,” I beg her, needing to hear her pain, and watch the blood drain from her beautiful face. Not scared of me, she presses her neck further onto the blade. A trickle of blood sliding across my recently sharpened machete. My shoulders drop, disappointment wrinkling my sore forehead. “Fucking do it, pussy,” she dares, and fear strikes me in the chest. A hitch in my breathing wracking my body. She’s not fucking scared of me. Not at all. I thought she was lying at first, but I’m sure of it now. I gaze at her with a lost look, not sure what to do with this raw feeling in my gut. I can’t be around her. I fucking can’t. A roar rips up my throat like a violent storm as I rip the knife from her throat and back away, running my fingers through my hair, I stare at the

first woman in years who is not afraid of me, and captivates me. She scares me and intrigues me. Goose bumps slither across her silky arms as she shivers where she lies. Being underground the temperature drops significantly at night and becomes hot as the den of hell during the day. With her being wet, I’m sure the coldness is even worse. Needing away from her fast, I back up to the doorway, my heart beating in my chest like a drum. Turning the lights off, her body suddenly shoots up off the bed. “Don’t! Please, leave the lights on,” she pleads, and that little bit of courage I need to keep my fucking head on straight and focus, resurfaces. The lost look in her eyes, the way her mouth parts to allow the harsh breath she can’t seem to catch making my dick stiffen in my jeans. Her fear. That little part I need to keep my emotions separate from my job in the depths of her eyes. “Scream for me,” I repeat, and slam the door shut. Concealing her in her biggest fear, the dark,

and being alone. She screams, and my head thuds against the metal door as I listen to her. Raven’s fear comforts me and reminds me of the job at hand and not my dick in my pants. I let a woman in my heart not so long ago and lost control of the relationship, only to lose her for good in the end. I will never allow that to happen again, I swore it to myself. Yet here I am… losing control over the first female I let around me longer than it takes me to blow my load into their sweet cunt. Raven screams, cusses, and jerks the chain around the room like a mad person trapped in a psych-ward. Leaving the door shut, I head back into the main room, stabbing my machete into the wooden coffee table. I sit on the couch and think about the bitch in the other room. Her tongue sharp, and defiance tempting. She’s my perfect toy. One that is filled with dark rage and blessed with perfected beauty. It makes me want to hear her scream so hard her voice gives out and to see those dark eyes

bloodshot and silently begging me for mercy. I need her to look at me like I’m her fucking world existing of both heaven and hell. I’ve tried to run from pain, but when it burns so deep the only thing that relinquishes its agony is to induce it upon others. This life has no room for love or kindness, it’s brutal and without mercy. The only thing that matters is brotherhood, your family and the only reason for my future. When I’m hurting others everything else disappears. No past, no future. Just the present. Grabbing the pack of cigarettes off the table I pluck one out with my lips and light it, blowing smoke into the cool air. Observing the shit Mac brought me. Some light groceries, a Dr. Dre speaker, and some weed. Basic survival shit. I touch my head where she head-butt me and glance at the bite marks on my arm. She’s fucking me up. I can’t help the smirk that kicks up on my face. Fucking wild woman. An hour passes and I haven’t taken my eyes off the door across from me. She stopped screaming about twenty minutes ago and the silence is

deafening. I’m almost tempted to turn the light on, just to turn it off and hear her scream all over again. Her agony is like a lullaby to my pain. Reminding me of where I belong. Alone. The camouflaged door behind me opens and Gatz walks in. The room instantly smells of expensive cologne overpowering the skunk smell of my weed. I notice his cut doesn’t have a speck of dirt on it, and his blondish hair isn’t out of place in one spot. His Sergent At Arms patch is a perfect shade of white even. He’s so well put together, and the oddest out of the bunch. He’s the sergeant at arms. Zeek found him selling guns that he pieced together himself. He had the balls to try and sell to Zeek without an appointment or anything. When Zeek fired Gatz’s weapon it was unlike anything he’d seen before. Gatz had potential and was taken under the wing of the club immediately. Fuck, I’m not entirely sure I didn’t wear this shirt yesterday and Gatz never wears the same shirt twice. Fucking yuppy. “How ya doin’ down here in the hole?” he asks with a smile, his hands tucked into his jeans pocket.

“Doin’,” I reply, sitting back and gawking at the door across the room. Gatz struts over to the metal door that conceals my toy and opens it slowly. He saunters into the room and looks her over, and my heartbeat speeds up as he gawks at her. Something in me doesn’t like him this close to her. Zeek gave her to me. “She’s cold,” he observes, and I hold back a laugh. Gatz always was the nicest one out of us all. If he were in charge of Raven, he’d probably make that cell a fucking suite by now. New mattress and the softest of comforters. He’d probably give her a mirror and women shit too. His heart is too big for me to fucking handle. “So what?” I bite back, looking down at the table. I know she’s cold but she’s not exactly here for comfort is she? If I gave her a blanket I would be crossing a line I can’t come back from. “So… I was just saying?” He shrugs defensively before coming back out of the room and shutting the door. “Dick,” he curses under his breath, and I laugh. Standing on the other side of the coffee table I can feel him looking at me without having to even

look up. “What?” I growl. “You going to be okay with this?” My eyes snap to his, and he tilts his head to the side with a concerned look on his face. “I’m just saying, she looks a lot like—” “I’m fine,” I interrupt him before he can say her name. My ex-wife Liviana. Raven looks a lot like her, except Raven is shorter and has a temper and a lost soul much like my own. Liviana was more of a down to earth person and drop dead fucking gorgeous. I never deserved her to begin with. It was like putting a tornado in a valley of wild flowers. I took her sun and replaced it with shadows. Ripped her up by the root and destroyed her vibrant way of life. She’s the reason I can’t be around women, the reason I am the way I am. The reason I am best left alone. I’m too hostile, too much to handle for any woman. I am to blame for her death. Sitting down next to me, Gatz grabs the bag of weed and stuffs the one hitter lying next to it and lights it. His small body rising as he takes a large

hit. “This whole thing is fucked up,” he says on an exhale making his voice sound muffled. Taking the one-hitter from him I nod in agreement and take a hit myself. Needing my mind to shut the fuck up. It’s so back and forth with how much I want to run my fingers over her soft skin and to mar it all at the same time. “I just feel like we are rocking the boat taking Raven,” Gatz shrugs softly, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. Sitting back, I press my lips into a shape of an O and exhale the smoke that dances in my lungs. “Oh no, brother, we ain’t rocking the boat, we’re sinking that motherfucker!” I grin as smoke swirls from my nose. Taking one of Cross’s crew, we are either really fucking brave, or stupid. “So what are you going to do to her?” Gatz asks, knowing things should be bloody by now. “I don’t know. I was thinking about whipping her, but she doesn’t respond to pain in any way.” My dick swells liking the thought of spanking her. “That sounds… kinky,” Gatz laughs. “What if

she likes it?” Slowly I turn his way and bite my cheek to keep the wolfish smile kicking up on my face. If she likes being spanked, I’m more than fucked at restraining myself from crossing the line of my club. I grab at my growing dick thinking about it. Fuck me, maybe I shouldn’t even attempt it. I may just fuck the enemy. A taste of something sweet and dark all at the same time. Then again if Zeek found out, I’d take a bullet for it for sure. Sounds like a bad idea. Then again, I like bad ideas… Gatz turns his head sideways has he looks at the wall of pain, confusion crossing his face. “What?” He shakes his head. “Nothing, I need to lay off the hash,” he chuckles to himself with a dumbass tone. “You’re right. You should probably bring me all your weed,” I respond, taking another hit myself. He shakes his head, rubbing his hands back and

forth on his jeans. Grabbing some papers and what’s left of the marijuana in the baggy, I begin to roll us a joint. “Roll, Roll, Roll your joint,” I sing as I wrap that motherfucker tighter than a nun’s asshole. “You ain’t right,” Gatz proclaims. Sliding my tongue along my bottom lip I eye my masterpiece. “This will make everything right,” I whisper to myself. Weed drowns out the bullshit the world has to offer. “Shut up and hit this.” I offer him the joint, and he takes it graciously.

WAKING UP, MY BODY is stiff and my stomach cramps from hunger. Soft fabric claims my chest and shoulders, and I look down finding a black distressed Sin City Outlaws shirt covering my body. It’s much too big for me and is like a nightgown. It smells of a man, a certain man in particular. Machete. Old leather, spice, and the slight scent of sweat. My head whips up in the direction of the door, curious if Machete put it on me while I was sleeping. My brows furrow from the caring act. Maybe there’s more to him than he lets on. I know a little of his story about his wife, and I also know that little piece of hell made him the man he is today. So I shouldn’t start thinking he’s some gentleman because he’s the craziest Outlaw of them

yet. My eyes widen as remember I swiped a tool from the torture wall on my way in here when Machete wasn’t looking. I skid to the floor and search for it, my hand blindly searching about in the darkness. It looked like some kind of a screwdriver sharpened to a point at the end. My hands stumble in the dark as I feel around on the floor. When I attacked him it fell from my hands and dropped down here somewhere. I can’t believe Machete didn’t even notice I had it. Dumbass. Swiping my hands under the shitty bed my fingertips come into contact with a sharp metal point and my eyes perk. I found it! Fisting it, I pull it out from under the bed and hold it close to my chest. I feel safer having it. I climb on the bed, my heart beating in my chest violently. Should I use it to try and unscrew this cuff around my ankle or use it on Machete? Maybe both? I lick my dry lips, debating on what I want to do with it.

Glancing around the room, it’s so dark I can’t see even a shadow. Fear strikes heavy in my chest. I hate the dark, it brings back memories of me being locked in that cage. My bottom lip trembles as the need to slide off the bed is unbearable. To hide from what cannot be seen in the shadows. Much like the monsters in the books children read nowadays. Only I am the monster and I only feel safe in the darkness a single bed has to offer. I’d rather creep in the shadows with unexplainable creatures than be seen with the ordinary. Hiding from my creator and from Alessandra is what I’ve done most my life. Clutching the soft shirt, I pull my knees up to my chest and think about giving Machete what he wants. Cross. Biting my bottom lip, I think about how Cross took away everything from me, and Alessandra filled me with a grudge so powerful I forget to breathe sometimes. Cross tore me from my family, friends, a normal life, and exchanged it for nothing

but anger and suffering. I tried to be normal but I couldn’t cope with the fear of Cross being out there somewhere. Coming back to him I thought I would finally feel like I belonged again, running to my terror instead of away from it. Walking across the lawn of the college I pull my backpack tight and keep my head down as I head to my shitty apartment. It’s not much, but it’s something. It’s not a cage in the ground. “Hey sexy!” a frat boy whistles my way, and my fingers white knuckle the straps of my bag as I pick my pace up. I’m not like the kids around here. I don’t care to party or to have a boyfriend. I want a degree and a chance at a normal life. Only they don’t teach you how to do that here, they can’t make me normal. I was kidnapped when I was a child and made into a weapon, taught to kill or be killed. When I was finally free from that hell, I discovered another hell. Life. I’m afraid of everything and trying to be normal is more of a challenge than anything. Trying to smile when I don’t want to

smile. Sitting next to people, and pretending to care when someone tells a sad story about their life. There is a darkness in me that whispers into my ear every night to give up and accept what I am. Savage. It’s easier to be bad and live life as a sinner. I know where my parents are, but they had another kid and they look happy. Normal. I can’t just walk up to their door and knock on it, bringing the baggage that I am. I’m not that bouncy little girl they remember. If I ever was, I don’t remember who I was before. She’s gone, and I’m what’s left of her. It’s better that they mourn their little girl than see what she’s become. Pulling my keys out of my pocket I unlock my door and quickly shut it, and turn the table lamp on. I drop my bag to the floor and toss my keys on the wooden table next to the door. “Raven, your father has missed you.” My spine stiffens, the hairs on my neck standing on end as I slowly turn to face the man I’ve been running from since I was rescued from him. The same man I can’t

forget. He’s practically my father, one I hate to want to be in his company. Cross. He is sitting on my couch that came with the apartment that smells like cats. He’s wearing a black suit and shiny shoes that the light of the lamp shines off of. His leg is crossed casually over his knee, and his beady eyes seek me out like a fucking snake. “What are you doing here?” I ask with a trembling voice. I knew he’d come for me one day, and I was right. Not paranoid, but fucking right! “I’ve been watching you for a while now, and I must say… You’re struggling,” he suggests, and I look down in knowing. “I’m going to school now, working at the video store on the weekends. I’m… I’m okay,” I shrug, lying. I can’t tell you how many times I want to stab my pencil in my professor’s neck just to see it soak the papers on his desk. To slice the neck of an angry customer with the DVD that he claims is scratched and my fault. Normal is not working, and it’s killing me

slowly. “It’s time that you return home, finish what we started,” he informs, knowing I’m lying. “I… I don’t know,” I reply meekly, not wanting to go back. Things that happened to me under his watch haunt me to this day. He stands, walking my way. He takes up my small living room, the smell of his cologne strong and stirring up memories that I can’t ignore. “You’re not normal, you’re much more than that,” he whispers into my ear. Tears fill my eyes. I know I’m not normal. I seek pain rather than fun, I’m scared of human contact. I’m an animal that should be caged. “I know,” I cry. “Come home, Black A,” he implores, calling me my nickname. “Together we will take down Brown 5, who is now named Alessandra. She’s the one that really hurt you. Do you remember her? How she hurt you every day, wouldn’t even let you win once to have a meal.” Clenching my eyes, I grit my teeth. How could I ever forget Brown 5. Every time I sit down to eat a

meal I feel the phantom pain of her fist in my face. “You’re stronger now, you can take her and make her remember what you haven’t forgotten.” I want to say no, but my soul doesn’t know anything else but the grudge in my heart towards the little girl that broke me. Cross is the only thing that feels… familiar. His words grounding me into submission. His cold hand clasps around my neck, reminding me of his power, and that if I don’t agree, I’ll probably die here in this shitty apartment. “I’ll protect you, teach you the ways of being on top,” he continues. His words soothing and comforting. The ways of life he taught me more familiar than what I’m trying to achieve right now. “Okay,” I whisper as a tear slips down my cheek. Maybe if I take down Brown 5 for once and for all, I will be able to live my life. Maybe then… my terror will release the demons that live inside my heart. Shaking the memories that feel like just yesterday, I take a ragged breath.

It was that or be killed that day, which I pondered for a brief second. Trading this life for one six-feet-under sounded ideal. When Cross took me in a second time it was then that I realized I belonged to him. That I would never feel safe away from him, his soul was torn from the Devil himself, much like mine. I was a tool in his reality and though I show a hard exterior... I’m frightened of him more than I ever was of Alessandra. Hurting, suffering, giving Cross everything I had, and it was never enough because I was never enough for him. I was the debris in the storm he was willing to destruct to save himself. It just took me seeing myself in that cage with Alessandra to realize it. I had the power to end Alessandra but it wasn’t snuffing the pain in my heart. It was misplaced. I need to destroy that shadow Cross projects, only then will that sliver of hope that there is something more out there for me will grow into something other than darkness and hurt. Flicking my gaze to the door, I grit my teeth. The poison running through my veins will only be

remedied by taking the source of which it came. I won’t be giving up Cross because I’m getting out of here… and I’m killing him myself. The lights turn on, and the sound of metal unlocking the door can be heard. My spine goes stiff and I hold the shank behind my back. Looks like I’m breaking free today. Machete steps into the room, his arms crossed and eyes boring down at me with that same ol’ intimidating look. “Looks like you’re awake,” he observes. I say nothing. Stepping closer he rubs at his forehead that displays a small cut where I head-butted him. I still have a fucking headache from that. Hunching down to my level, he flicks a brow at me. “Why are you down here on the ground?” My eyes peek behind my fallen hair. “This is where I belong,” I mutter in a low voice. His eyes widening from my tone. He knows something is up. Screaming, I jerk the screwdriver out from behind my back and swing it in his direction. He

falls back, the sharp tip just skimming his neck. His bloodshot eyes go wide, his nostrils flaring with rage as he looks at me like he wants to kill me. Jumping to my feet I run at him, and a boot to my chest throws me back against the wall. I slide down to my knees, my chest burning as I drown for air. Machete suddenly appears at my side, and slowly his boot steps on my hand holding the weapon. “You are one smart bitch,” he growls, pressing his weight into my knuckles. I close my eyes breathing through the pain, trying to hold on to the handle of the shank as long as I can. He bends down and plucks the tool from my fingers, a guttural growl vibrates my chest as my fingers are pried away from my only weapon. “If you wanted to play with my toys, you should have just said so,” he chuckles, before pulling his foot off my sore hand. Jumping back against the wall, I hold my bruised palm against my chest and glare at the monster before me. “Fuck you!” I sneer. His head is tipped down, red hair falling in his

face as beautiful green eyes hit me where I sit. “The way you intrigue me… that is a possibility, Black Beauty,” he smiles wolfishly, tucking the tool in his back pocket. My nipples perk on their own accord hearing his infatuation. Quickly I avert my gaze and look at the chipped wall. His heated eyes too much for me to look right at. I can’t believe I missed my target when I attacked him. I’m either really out of practice or I meant to miss him…

Sitting in the darkness, I begin to sing to keep myself company, to keep my mind off the dark. Machete bangs on the door. “Shut up in there.” I roll my eyes and continue to sing. The door whips open, the harsh light blinding me. Machete struts over to me, hovering over me like a lumberjack.

“I said shut up,” he repeats. Tilting my head back, I pinch my brows together and continue to sing. I may sound like shit, but he’s going to have to gag me if he wants me to shut up. He flinches, and my words fade from the odd look on his face. “How the hell are you bleeding?” Machete asks with a heated tone. I look down my arms, my body, and then notice red tingeing my panties. Fuck. “It’s my period,” I mutter, looking between my legs. My panties are stained and the floor has droplets of dark blood. A tingling sensation starts at the back of my neck and across my face until my cheeks flush. This can’t be happening. Machete palms his face and turns around pulling his phone out. “Hey, we gotta a problem, brother.” He looks over his shoulder at me, then back around. I shake my head, keeping my knees together. “She started her period and we ain’t got shit for that down here,” he informs, and my cheeks flush humiliated. Thanks, mother nature. I close my thighs trying to conceal the blood, but it’s all over

my legs and bottom. Being in the dark I didn’t notice or I would have tried to clean it up myself. Machete turns toward me, tucking his phone in his pocket. “Do you want a rag or something?” he asks, his politeness taking me aback. It’s like he’s scared of me now or something. “A rag?” I can’t help but laugh. What does he expect me to do with that, shove it up my vagina? My eyes fall back down at the mess all over me and I can’t help but sigh. “I could use another shower,” I inform, looking the other way. How much more embarrassing can this get? “We can do that,” he agrees. His tone softer than I’ve ever heard it. Unclipping my chain from the bed, he jerks it and I follow. He stops and stands in front of the wall of pain as we pass, guarding it with an arrogant look on his. “Just in case you get any more stupid ideas,” he smirks. I roll my eyes and head into the bathroom. He and I both know that wasn’t a stupid idea. He was just too stupid to think I wouldn’t do it.

He clips my chain to the heater again and stands tall. “How long does this shit last?” He drifts his finger toward my bloody panties and I swallow the lump in my throat. “Um, a few of days,” I inform with a shrug. I forgot I was even getting close to starting, not that I could have been prepared or anything. “Terrific,” he mumbles under his breath before walking out. I pull my stained panties off and try and wash them in hot water. I keep looking over my shoulder, nervous Machete will be standing there and see my naked ass. I grab the apple shampoo hoping it will dilute some of the blood on the crotch, but it’s not doing that great of a job. Shit. Giving up on them, I hang them on a loose screw on the wall hoping they will dry some before I am done cleaning up. Using my hand, I swirl the soap in my palm and start caressing my thighs to wash the blood off. It looks like a scene from Carrie, I swear. Only this could happen to me.

Machete The main door opens and Mac walks in with two Walmart bags. I grab them from him and look inside. Two boxes of tampons, pads, some wipes, and… what the fuck is this? Feminine fresh powder? I flick a brow at him. “What? I didn’t know what to get,” he shrugs. “So I just started grabbing crap.” I pull out the purple pads and look them over. They’re as thick as a goddamn pillow, and they’re as long as one of Raven’s fucking legs. “Jesus Christ, Mac,” I shake my head. You can tell we don’t have girlfriends or daughters. We are so out of our league here. Even when my ex-wife had her period, she kept that shit to herself. “What, man, I asked a woman that was standing next to me what her flow was, she looked about the same size as Raven, and she looked at me like some kind of a pervert! I had to fucking guess!” he explains, his arms stretched out toward the bags and I have to keep from laughing. “I’m sure something in there will work,” he huffs, before sitting down on the couch.

“Did you get ahold of Alessandra yet?” I ask, shoving everything back in the bag. “Not yet, as soon as I got to the club, you sent me a code red call,” he jokes. Walking into the bathroom I hand Raven the bags and she snatches them from me. “Something in there should work,” I state. I notice the shower is off, and she has the towel I brought in here earlier for me to shower with, wrapped around her. I unclip her from the heater and push her in front of me, making sure to watch her hands when walking past the table. Sneaky little bitch. “I’m hungry,” she mumbles, as she walks past. “Are you asking me for something?” I sneer. I’d love to play a game with her. You give me everything, and I’ll give you bread. Maybe. “I’ll get her some toast or something,” Mac informs walking over to the counter. My eyes widen at how quickly he gave in. What the fuck? He is such a sucker for a bitch with a sexy ass. She looks at me knowingly, as if she knew I would fuck with her but Mac is her prince fucking

charming. It pisses me off, I am in control of what she has, and doesn’t have. “It’s just toast, man,” Mac grumbles, noticing my unease of his generous offer. Shaking my head, I press on her lower back urging her along. Once inside her cell, I clip her to the bed and Mac slides a plate of toast along the floor. Her eyes flick to mine, and I look away and shut the door. Giving her some privacy. I wouldn’t before, but I will for this. I don’t want to watch her shoot a tampon up her pussy. “At least Zeek doesn’t have to worry about you fucking her now,” Mac laughs behind me. I look over my shoulder giving him a ridiculous look. “Like that would stop me,” I smile. I’ve never fucked a bitch on her period, but as horny as I get… it wouldn’t stop me from going balls deep in pussy. That or I would just fuck her in the ass. “All right, I’m going to go see if I can find Alessandra or Felix. I’ll see you later,” Mac states,

standing from the couch. “Thanks for the um… shit,” I shrug. He chuckles. “No problem, but I might be banned from Walmart.”

My fingers ache from drawing, so I set the sketchpad and pencils that Felix brought me, to the side. I draw shit from time to time. Sitting up, I glance at the metal door right across from me. One I’ve come to stare at quite a bit. I wonder if Raven took care of… everything down below. Getting up, I head over to the door and knock on it before placing my ear against the metal door. “Are you all settled in there?” I ask, sounding like a concerned fucking dad. Shoot me now. “I’m fine,” she clips dryly. Sighing, I rub the back of my neck, looking toward the wall of pain. Maybe I should try some nipple clamps, something to move this shit along. A sudden noise upstairs catches my attention, taking my mind off my next tactic. With furrowed brows, I

make sure Raven’s door is locked and head upstairs to see what is going on. Standing in the warehouse just above the bunker that holds Raven, I find Zeek and Felix. They are observing a wooden crate, deep in conversation as I approach. It’s good to see them, fellow brothers that are more than any bloodline would understand the need to see one another. The true testament to loyalty and family, it brings a peace that a Bible thumper could compare to handling their Bible close to their chest. My brothers are my bible. My father was a military asshole, not much love was brought about my household. So to say I lack the emotion could be realistic, but these men taught me a little about that feeling. I care about them all. “Hey, brother.” Felix juts his chin, and I return the gesture. His brown hair is down and he has dark bags under his eyes like he hasn’t slept in days. Alessandra must be still having nightmares of what happened to her when she was kidnapped by Raven. “What the fuck happened to your neck?” Zeek

asks with wide eyes. Pressing my fingertip to the slight sting on my neck, I bring my finger back and find bright red blood. Fucking Raven must have done it when she attacked me. “Nothing. What are you doing?” I ask, looking at the exposed bullets in the wooden crate stained and splintering from the sides. It’s been sitting as we’ve had these bullets for a while. I wasn’t aware of any drops coming up though, I thought we were putting everything on hold until we got Cross as we wanted to keep a low profile. Especially now that we have one of his pride and joys as our prisoner, one I’m enjoying toying with very much. “Preparing,” Zeek clips, eyes focused on the box. His hair is slicked back and he’s got on a clean white shirt that appears bright under his dark leather cut. “The mafia, Cross, we need to be ready for anything,” he explains further. He’s a mess knowing Cross is out there, and rumor has it that Cross wants Zeek’s kids. So he put Jillian and the twins into hiding until Cross stops breathing. Zeek’s dark eyes slowly slip to mine. “Get anything from Raven?” he changes the subject.

I inhale a breath and cross my arms, feeling like a failure for not having a single fucking thing to offer my president. Guilt ruptures my chest from my attraction for this bitch making me sick to my stomach. “Mac is supposed to get me an address to Raven’s place, see if I can find something to crack her,” I inform. Felix darts his hand in his pocket and hands me a piece of paper. Taking it from him I unfold it; it’s an address in a female’s handwriting. “That’s her place, Mac told me to give it to you as he is busy getting pussy,” Felix informs with a smirk. Holding the small wrinkled paper in my fingers I nod. The address is out of town; a hotel. “You want to watch Raven while I head over there?” I ask, tucking the paper into my pocket. I hate to leave her, but I have to check this place out. I need something about this bitch. “I’ll babysit the cunt,” Zeek offers with a grim tone, lifting his chin like the fucking president he is, he heads toward the bunker. He has no fear of her, and that’s admirable. I just hope he doesn’t lose his

cool and try and cause her pain, because pain isn’t breaking this one but pushing her further away from us. My stomach tightens as I think about another man hurting her. I look down at the floor, the thought passing my mind too betraying to look at my president. “Take Felix and Gatz with you, just in case you run into anything,” Zeek orders. “Got it,” I reply, pushing my berating thoughts to the side. Walking outside the warehouse, it’s dark outside and too fucking quiet. Gatz stands by his motorcycle smoking a cigarette as Felix and I strut toward him. His hair is slicked back, his face clean shaved, and his clothes clean and neat without a smudge of grease, as usual. “You’re with me,” I tell him. He flicks his cigarette into the air and straddles his bike, not even asking me where the hell we’re going but down for the ride anyway. That’s how you know you have a trustworthy brother. No matter what, they’re down to ride or die. It wasn’t

long ago this club was missing that loyalty. The man beside you would kill you and take your bike just for the thrill of it. That was back before Zeek was president though. Zeek seeks a brotherhood we all want, one thicker than blood and it’s the reason behind all this chaos as well. Starting my motorcycle, I follow the directions my GPS gave me, and head to the shittiest hotel in Vegas, in the worst neighborhood you can think of at that. The sky blanketed with a thick layer of blackness as the moon rises high in the sky, the air dry and warm against my bare skin as I ride into the night with my thoughts on Raven and how I can separate my dick from wanting her and focus on breaking her for intel. She’s so fucked up I want to know more about why she is the way she is. Maybe she and I are made from the same god that’s a misfit of the holy one everyone prays to. Maybe, were just psychotic. Our hearts and brains like hand grenades that could go off at any minute. Our life is ripped into blood and pieces for what we believe in, and what we’re running from. Pain.

Pulling into the graveled parking lot of a hotel, we park right outside the main office and turn the engines off. I’ve passed this very hotel plenty of times doing runs, and I gotta say I’m surprised Raven is held up here. It’s three stories and has an empty pool out front with an old blue metal lawn chair sitting in the middle of it. The motel sign buzzes as the lights flicker on and off, and plants that were planted out front are dying from the overbearing sun during the day. Either the payout of being a cop sucks, or Raven has bad taste in accommodations. Why would she stay here? “You want me to go in?” Gatz asks, taking his helmet off. He runs his hands through his hair, instantly putting it back in place. “I’ll go with you,” I offer. You never know what kind of crack head you’ll run into in places like these. Striding behind Gatz, we step into the main office. I instantly notice the puke yellow colored carpet and the ripped up chairs sitting in front of a

few nicotine stained windows. An air conditioner window unit sitting lopsided in a window gently blows a yellow colored, tree-shaped air freshener making the room slightly smell of stale vanilla. A young hipster turns around in a green swivel chair behind the counter and smiles at us like were his best friends. He’s wearing a black hat with a pot leafed printed bandana under it. His skin is tan, and his eyes are bloodshot as hell. An unbuttoned white shirt shows off tattoos of weed, and a beautiful woman blowing smoke. Not bad artwork. “’Sup brothers, my name is Brad, but you can call me B-Rad. You need a room or something?” he asks in a dopey tone. I can feel Gatz look at me, I’m sure biting back a ridiculous look. “More like somethin’,” I reply with a low voice, and the boy’s smile vanishes from his face. He looks down, messing with his phone as if we aren’t even in the room and anger pulses in my neck. “We need a key to a certain room, one that belongs to a black haired cop to be exact,” Gatz informs. My jaw ticks, ready to just punch this kid in the face and find the key myself. I have a temper

like that. Punch first, ask later. Brad shakes his head, tapping his fingers on the counter as his stoned eyes meet ours again. “No can do, we have a policy—” My patience gone, I reach across the counter and grab him by his shirt, pulling him halfway over I slam his face into the granite top. “Really?” Gatz holds his hands out looking at me like a pissed off mother. “He wasn’t going to give it to us and you know it. It’s quicker this way,” I respond with a dry tone. Shaking his head, Gatz grabs Brad’s hair lifting his bloody face from the stained counter and gets right in his line of sight. “We have a policy too, give us what we want or he kills you.” Gatz shrugs his shoulder towards me. He may not approve of my hostile ways, but he needs me. He knows it. “Ok man, ok!” he whines through bloody busted lips. That was quick, but I expected it would be. Releasing Brad, he slides off the counter and hobbles over to a metal box on the wall. Pulling a

key from his pocket he opens it up and hands us a black shiny key card that has Jennifer Lopez plastered on the front of it. That sexy woman’s picture is spread everywhere these days. “It’s room 6,” he informs with a shaky hand. Taking it from him, I smile politely. “Thanks for your cooperation B-Rad.” Emphasis on his stupid nickname. Gatz laughs, and we start to head out but I stop short. Remembering very important advice for BRad. “Oh, and if you call the cops… we’ll be back,” I nod, confirming Brad’s worst nightmares running through his head. He blinks before his bloodshot eyes go wide. Giving the doorframe a slap, I wink handsomely and return my attention back to Gatz. “Room 6,” Gatz announces to Felix, I twirl the key card in between my fingers to show we got what we came for. Felix sighs, tossing his helmet on the handlebars of his bike and looks over the shitty hotel. “You think we’ll ever find Cross or do you think we’re chasing a ghost, brother?” Felix asks

softly. Taking a deep breath, I look to the dark sky for the answer, wondering myself if all of this will lead to something or just to our untimely deaths. “I hope so, otherwise what the fuck does all this mean in the end?” I lift a shoulder glaring at Felix. Gatz’s brows squint as he looks out and takes in what I said. “You fuck with us, we retaliate no matter how much blood is shed and how much time it takes. That is something we need to honor more than ever now that Zeek is tearing at the cold reins his uncle embedded into this club. We’re the fucking Sin City Outlaws, a brotherhood stronger than any family.” “I know, I just hope Zeek getting us on a path of brotherhood doesn’t kill me is all,” he grumbles under his breath. “What is death but a break from the final silence of pain,” I clip, granting me a concerned look from both Gatz and Felix. It’s times like this I know I’m not normal. “You’re really fucked up, you know that?” Mac raises a brow, his right hand resting on the handlebars of his Bobber.

“No, what’s fucked up is you getting a fucking Bobber for a motorcycle,” I jab, I saved every penny for my Harley and wouldn’t be caught dead on anything else. It started with me working on an old ladies car that broke down outside the club one day, and then she told a friend about how great a job I did, and then the next thing I knew I had a bunch of old fucking ladies wanting me to work on their shit. Life could be worse than cold lemonade and a stack of cash for adding some coolant to a Buick here and there though. I prefer it over any other job, less interaction with people this way. Sliding the key card into Raven’s room, I have to shove my shoulder into the door to push it open fully. The bottom of the door sticks to the frame as if it’s too big to fit. Giving the stiff door one last push it finally gives and we’re in. It looks like a plain ol’ hotel room, and if it weren’t for the blankets made perfectly into a small pallet on the floor I would think the room was vacant. “She sleeps on the floor?” Gatz asks, just as

surprised as I am. She was sitting on the floor the last time I went into her cell. I wonder if she has a fear of them or something. “Does Alessandra do that?” I ask Felix, and he shakes his head, staring at the blankets in awe. “Must be some PTSD shit,” I offer as a conclusion. The floor is an ugly orange colored carpet rather than the yellow in the main office, the curtains a plaid red and it smells of stale cigarettes in here too. I would never let my woman stay in a place like this. Taking a step further in, I faintly smell her, Raven. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but if I had to guess, it smells of a spicy pear. Painting the image of a black angel in my mind, her halo of fire burning into my veins so deep I can’t stop thinking of her. “What the fuck are we supposed to get from this?” Gatz sarcastically asks, eyeing an empty room. There’s no pictures or keepsakes. No memorabilia or anything to suggest she gives a damn about anything.

“Reminds me of your room,” Gatz sneers, opening an empty dresser drawer. I glare at him in response but he’s not wrong. My room at the club is bare as shit. I have no family, or give a fuck about anything other than my brotherhood, so I can relate to Raven on that level. But still, I have my club… what does she have that keeps her waking up every morning? I walk over to the blankets and pick up the fluffy white pillow, my fingers digging into the plushness as I bring it to my face and inhale a deep breath. As if her scent will unlock all of her secrets, and giving me the perfect tactic to break her and bend her to my will. “What’s that?” Felix points to something on the blankets. Moving the pillow from my face, I notice a piece of paper that has seen better days. It’s worn, stained, and even looks like it’s been burnt at one time but someone couldn’t bear to part with it so they saved it from the fire. Dropping the pillow to the side I pick it up. At first I thought it was a confusing letter, but upon reading it again it slightly rings a bell.

“That’s a poem, a very famous one,” Gatz informs over my shoulder. “’The Raven,’ by Edgar Allan Poe.” He continues, grabbing the paper from my hands. “There are dozens of theories of what this poem means, but it’s said that the man loses a lover and a devil bird, that is a raven, taunts him as the man falls slowly into madness. Some think the narrator killed his wife, others think the bird is responsible in some ways.” I blink slowly, Gatz surprising me every time he opens his goddamn mouth. “How in the fuck do you know that?” Felix and I both ask at the same time. Gatz suddenly looks up from the poem, his eyes wide. “Oh, um. Saw it on TV or something,” he dismisses a little too quickly before handing the paper back. “What do you think it means?” Felix questions, looking the confusing poem over. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” I fold the paper gently and place it in my back pocket. “There’s nothing else in here,” Felix groans, flipping through her clothes hanging in the closet.

Raising a brow, anger boils in my veins. Coming here was supposed to help, but all it did was confuse me more. Confirming the challenge that lies ahead of me. I have to get in Raven’s head and figure out what scared her when she was in that underground trafficking. “What does Alessandra have nightmares about exactly?” I ask, desperate for anything. “Um, they used to hit the bars of the cage, she tenses when she hears a similar sound I’ve noticed. She doesn’t like not having control over her food and water either. I don’t know, she tries to act like she’s fine but I can see through her tough girl act,” Felix informs me. Basically, he told me it’s nothing physical, but all mental shit. Cross was a smart son of a bitch when conditioning these girls. I’m going to have to emotionally terrorize Raven, this is a first for me and I’m not fucking thrilled about it. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I growl.

SITTING ON THE COLD hard floor, my knees to my chest I stare into the darkness. I can smell Machete on me, and I close my eyes and breathe him in. The metal door creaks and groans as it opens and a silhouette of a man that is not Machete looks down at me. His shoulders are wide and legs thick and strong. His presence in the doorway alone causes my spine to stiffen, and my veins to fill with ice. The smell of spice and something unfamiliar wafting into my cell. Goosebumps paint across my skin, and I inhale a shaky breath and lift my chin to mask my beating heart. The light turns on and I wince from the harsh brightness. Raising my hand above my eyes I glance in the direction of the man and come face to face with no other than Zeek himself, the president

of The Sin City Outlaws. His record is as thick as an encyclopedia, and he has no regard for anyone but his own rules. Masking my own fear, I roll my eyes and look back down at the floor. Him being here will offer nothing good that’s for sure. He chuckles. “You don’t seem excited to see me.” I don’t reply. I’ll lose my temper, putting myself in a deeper hole. He squats in front of me and raises his hand to slide a finger across my forehead where I headbutted Machete. I wince in reaction and pull away from his cold touch. “I pictured you more mangled,” he mutters, grabbing my fingers he observes them as if he’s surprised to see all ten of them still intact. He seems disappointed that Machete hasn’t made me bleed all over the floor, that he hasn’t broken me yet. Sighing, he drops my hand, narrowing his brows. It makes me wonder myself why Machete hasn’t sliced me for answers. “Where is Cross, Raven?” Zeek asks, annoyed. Flicking my gaze to him I stare at him blankly,

before lifting a challenging brow. If I would tell anyone anything about Cross... it would never be him. He’d kill me after I did in a second. I’m not stupid. He seems to forgot what it’s like to be ruled by Cross, to have no option but to go along or be dead. Zeek is privileged, having the club to back him up in his defiance. I on the other hand… have no one. Suddenly, hard fingers clench around my throat and my head is viciously slammed into the bed frame behind me. A stinging sensation races down my face, my mouth parting as I whimper from the pain. “You attack my club, threaten to kidnap my children and you think I’m just going to let you get away with it?” he replies through gritted teeth. Hatred pouring from every word. I don’t take my eyes off his and stand my ground silently. “You’re the reason I can’t be with my kids or feel my woman’s legs around my waist while I fuck her every night, and I do not take being cock-blocked lightly. Do you understand what I’m saying?” I inhale a shaky breath and open my mouth to speak

but think better of it. Everything he’s saying is true, but what do I say… Sorry? He wouldn’t believe me or trust me if I told him my intentions were misplaced. When I kidnapped Alessandra, I wanted her. Cross wanted his kids. “Admit it, tell me you were going to hurt me and bring my club down.” His last words a whisper. He’s so angry at me all I can do is laugh, the attempt not great as his grasp on my throat is so tight. I could give a fuck about his club. I’m not his enemy, Cross is. Cross is the villain you see in comic books and can never beat. His vile ways corrupt but he’s wise. Not even I fully know what his intentions were, I just know there’s much more to the plan of breaking The Sin City Outlaws. I overheard him whispering about things that would tear the club apart. With Cross, there’s always much more than what meets the devil’s eye. “TELL ME!” he roars, jerking me forward and backward.

“Fuck. You,” I wheeze. He roars, bringing me to my toes by pulling me up by the throat. I clench my eyes shut, waiting for whatever comes next. Hell, a bright light, maybe a flashback of my life. “What the fuck are you doing?” The familiar voice of Machete makes my eyes snap wide, and my heart skips a beat. He’s here. He’s standing in the doorway, his shoulders puffed out, his face red and chest rising and falling rapidly. He doesn’t look very pleased to see Zeek in here with me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Machete is fond of me. “Why haven’t you broken her yet?” Zeek demands, never taking his eyes off of mine. “It’s a process, one which you’re fucking up,” Machete snaps hatefully, before stepping into the room. “Pain won’t break her, so I needed to find something personal,” he explains as if I’m not even in the room. I attempt a laugh. I have nothing and no one, so his process at something personal is a failed task before it begins. “She is a cold hearted bitch. She has no-one but

Cross,” Zeek replies dryly. In a way he’s right, the only person that I’ve ever had was Cross. It’s not a good feeling. Machete crosses his arms and tilts his head sideways as he takes in what Zeek just said. He looks at me with a wolfish smirk, as if he knows something I don’t. Whatever it is, I can feel it in my gut I’m not going to like it. “I think Cross is her only weakness. We should use her to get to Cross then,” Machete informs as he nods in agreement with himself. “Bait.” Machete’s eyebrows raise with the word, and I suddenly feel nauseous. Zeek’s hard eyes slowly soften and his grip releases. I fall to the hard floor, my knees biting into the concrete unforgivingly. My palms grating on the hard surface as it breaks my fall, they instantly ache from the rough coldness. Zeek turns to face Machete. “That might actually work,” he mumbles. They both look down at me, and Zeek rubs at the dark scruff running the line of his jaw as he’s deep in thought.

With glossy eyes, I flick my gaze to Machete, his red hair disheveled and sexy, his bright eyes looking at me as if he can see right through me. Like he knows me more than I would ever know myself. “I’m not the solution to your problems,” my voice full of emotion, as my eyes slide up their legs and to their cold eyes. Machete looks at me with understanding and Zeek looks confused so I clarify. “Cross doesn’t care about me,” I whisper, saying it out loud both hurts and relieves the ache in my chest. It hurts because that means nobody cares about me, I’m the dirt under the rug everyone steps on and tries to ignore is there. It relieves the pain I’m feeling because it means I am not Cross’s prodigy. I am my own and I might be something other than damaged goods in the wake of the man they call Cross. Zeek leans down, a disgusted look passing his face. “I guess we’ll find out,” he says to me. His dark eyes promising me whatever happens, I won’t like it. He’ll see to it. They both walk out and slam the door behind

them. The sound of locks creaking into place sealing my confinement.

“So how do we use Cross against her?” I ask, making sure the door is locked. Rage pounds in my chest so hard I can feel it in my neck. I don’t like that he had his hands on my toy, my girl. Realization hits me of how upset I am about him touching her. It irritates me because I know this girl can never be mine. She’s a dead girl, and Zeek will see to it. Pinching the bridge of my nose I try to breathe through the thoughts and feelings reeling through my body like a fucking circus. The way her eyes lit up when she saw me enter the room, I’ll never scrub that look from my mind. It made me feel good. “I don’t know. But getting to her and Cross at the same time is hitting two birds with one stone.” Zeek looks up at me with a concerned look on his

face. “We have to end this shit and soon brother. I don’t have a good feeling about any of this,” he informs me, and it unsettles me to hear that he’s uneasy about all of this. “Yeah no shit,” I mumble under my breath. What did he expect to happen when we doused the flame in gasoline? “Just keep her in once piece, if Cross finds her mangled he may not want her,” he shoots me a dark look. “Not that you’re having a problem with that.” His words suggesting I’m not doing my job. His words piss me off, insulting me for not physically trying to break Raven. It makes me really question why I haven’t tried. I can do more and still keep her in one piece. “She won’t break with pain. You chose me to do this, so just fucking let me do it,” I clip back, trying to defend my actions, or lack of. He shakes his head and turns to leave the bunker without another word. Looking at the door, I rub at my chin. I need to up my game, even if I’m afraid of what may come of it.

I get in the shower, thinking about the poem we found in the hotel and how to bring Cross and Raven together. Looking down, I notice my dick is hard and it’s not showing any signs of going away. Veins protrude, the tip swollen to the point it hurts. I have blue balls. Bending down I grab the apple soap and squirt it over my cock. Fisting it, I begin to pump it, slow at first and then faster. My balls pulse, and my ass cheeks clench. I rub back and forth, my thumb barely swiping over the tip before I pull my hand back. I close my eyes and see Raven. She’s naked, her hands caressing her bare tits, her dark nipples pebbled and begging me to bite and lick them. Pressure begins to swirl and warmth presses up my cock. I grit my teeth and pump faster, my toes curling into the tile as cum shoots out of my cock and onto the wall. Breathing through my release as it takes over my whole body, I envision me blowing my load all over her. Opening my eyes, I realize the water is cold, and my mind is so loud it makes my head hurt. Leaning into the wall, my right hand pressed into it to keep me up. I wonder what the fuck I just did.

Why I thought of Raven. She’s in my head, man. That weed Mac brought me sounds good right about now. Turning the hot water off, I grab a towel and dry off. I smell her. She’s fucking everywhere. Wrapping it around my torso little droplets slide down my chest, as I head into the main room for some clean clothes. After dressing, I sit on the couch and stare at the door across from me. What it is Raven is thinking about in there. What is she doing in there? Standing I head into her room, finding her on the floor singing softly to herself again. I can’t hear the words so I don’t have a clue as to what she’s singing. It’s dark in here, cold too. I drink her in, the way her black doe eyes look up at me, and her long legs look soft to the touch. I’m losing more than my mind, I’m losing control of her.

I stop mid-song, finding Machete standing in the doorway, the smell of his soap filling the room. He’s shirtless, with just a pair of black shorts hanging low on his hips. His hair is curly and brushing against the top of his ears, and the way his muscles bulge and dance with excitement when his eyes land on mine, you’d think he was a beast. “Get up,” his tone is harsher than before, his whole demeanor different. My knees shake and I stand, knowing he’s not to be messed with at this moment. Reaching for me with both hands, he grabs hold of my right wrist and pulls me across the room. I jerk and slam my heels into the floor to resist, but he just yanks me like a doll right behind him. He stops on the other side of the room, in front of a wall. I notice chains dangling freely, four of them to be exact. I’ve seen them before but I wasn’t sure what they were for. Grasping my wrist tightly he lifts me off my feet by a foot at least and clamps my wrist in one of the metal cuffs hanging from the wall. It’s cold and hard against my wrist bone, it

hurts. He does the same to the left wrist and my weight feels ten times more than usual. I feel heavy, my arms stretched to the point my shoulders feel like they may snap. “Why are you doing this?” I ask with a timid voice. His warm hand cups my ankle, clasping it in a cuff before he does the same to the other. “It seems I’ve been too nice, Raven, and you’ve been taking advantage of that,” he mumbles. “Too nice?” I scoff. “You cut my hair, and you nearly cut my fucking finger off!” I protest. I’ve still been picking at the sore in boredom. He stands straight, intimidating eyes hitting me hard. His tattooed chest rising and falling as he drinks me in. He likes me helpless, I can tell from the growing cock in his pants. “Again, I’ve been too nice,” he growls. My stoic face slips into anger. He leaves the room, and I wiggle my hands in the cuffs to try and free them, the chains clashing against the wall. It rubs my wrist even rawer and

applies more pressure on my joints. I stop as it’s hard to breathe like this, and my wrists feel like they may snap at any moment. Machete turns the light on and saunters back into the room. Something shiny and silver in his hands catches my attention. It’s not his knife, so what is it? “Where is Cross, Raven?” Machete asks casually. His eyes drawn to the floor as he paces. His shoulders are slumped and his jaw tight. I can’t help the half laugh that spills from my lips. This man is insane. He raises his hand and throws something at me. Sharpness whizzes by me and cuts right into the wall next to my head. With a shaky head, I turn finding a Chinese throwing star impaled in the wall with pieces of my hair caught in it. My eyes race to his, my heart racing in my chest like a beating drum. “Are you fucking crazy?” I thought we were past this trying to break me shit. I thought they were going to wait for Cross or something. I should have known he wouldn’t give up.

“What is your boss, Cross, putting together? It’s surely something against the club,” he continues to talk like he’s unaffected, pacing the small space. “I—I,” I can’t think, all I can think about is where he is going to throw that next star. What if he hits me? Not liking my response, he throws another one and it impales my shirt to the wall. I lift my chin, swallowing back my fear. My chest warming with fury. He’s trying to intimidate me and I won’t give him the benefit of the doubt. “You throw like a bitch,” I taunt. He shifts his head to the side, his brow lifting as if to say “is that right?” He throws a star, and I see it before I feel it. It cuts into my right bicep before sticking to the wall. I bite my lip to keep from hissing, blood tickling my arm as it drips down. The burn is deep, and it stings to unbearable lengths. I clench my teeth and refuse to let my tears fall down my cheeks. “Tell me!” he bellows, but I just hang my head, refusing to look him in the eye. If I do, I might cry and show him just how close to breaking I am.

Machete stomps up to me and fists my chin. Making me look him in the eyes. His gaze falls to the blood sliding down my tan arm and spotting onto the floor like one of those pictures rich people pay for. I choke on emotion, gaining his attention. His eyes that appear soft mask into something darker. So fast I’m not sure there was anything there soft to begin with. “Oops, I missed,” he smiles malevolent. I inhale a strong breath. “Like I said, you throw like a bitch,” I grit through the pain. He grabs me by the chains, jerking me back and forth. I cry out with pain, the metal cuffs on my wrist, the weight on my chest and my cut all protesting. He mimics my whimpering, and deep inside it makes me fucking angry. Arching my neck I scream in his face, shaking the chains with him. Stepping back, he chuckles rubbing his beard as he looks me over. “You really are a crazy bitch. Even playing circus games with your life won’t make you give up a man that cares nothing about

you. A man that locked you in a cage like an animal when you were a kid and made you fight until you were nearly dead. I’m not sure if that’s dedication or fucking stupidity.” His brows inch together as he looks at me with a serious glare. He throws the last star in his hand and I squeeze my eyes shut scared he’s going to nail me again. It lands right between my legs, a whoosh of air spreading across my sex. “Do you want me to kill you? Do you want Cross to kill you?” he hollers, and I pinch my lips shut. “I’ve never run my blade over skin so soft before,” he whispers, as his finger trails along the dripping blood. My chest heaves trying to find air, but it’s coming up empty every time I gasp. “Will it slice like butter or go straight to the bone?” he tilts his head to the side, as his fingers spread my wound wider. I clench my eyes shut, tears leaking out. “You’re crying,” he observes with a delicate tone. Thumbing my cheek and smearing my blood on my face. “Because I’m fucking pissed!” I hiss, wanting

to get at him, at Cross, at myself! I did this to myself. I fucking put myself here just trying to get back at Alessandra! It’s so stupid. “Me too, Raven. Me too,” he mutters before leaving. Slamming the door shut, I scream as loud as I can, the taste of blood spitting from my throat. I jerk my chains, my wrist about to snap, and my pain insignificant to the one rattling my chest. As I scream, I hear Machete roaring in the other room. Our cries of pain mixing and telling a silent story only are dark hearts can understand.

Later that night I enter her cell and find her limp and asleep in her chains. Her head is laying on her shoulder and her body is arched from her own weight. Swallowing the lump in my throat I unlatch her right wrist, and then her left. She sways into me and I catch her. My nose in the crook of her neck I can’t help but smell her before holding her while I

completely free her. Carrying her tightly against my chest, I slowly lay her on the bed and watch her sleep. She’s fucking tough. I hate and love that about her. I want her, I want her so fucking bad it makes me a traitor without even having to admit it. My eyes fall on her cut in her arm, it looks nasty. Her wrists are purple from her jerking and trying to escape too. I turn away from it, not liking the way sympathy sets heavy in my stomach. I’m Machete, I gut people open and play in their blood like a toddler in a sandbox. What the fuck is happening to me? Not thinking about what the fuck I’m doing, I head into the main room and grab one of my shirts. Using my teeth, I shred it into a couple of long pieces and head back to her. Picking her arm up softly I use one piece of shirt and dab at the fresh blood before wrapping it with another piece of the shirt. It stains crimson instantly. Shaking my head, I grit my teeth. That has to hurt. But why in the fuck do I care? Why do I feel like this? I can’t have it getting infected, Cross may not

like that. That’s what I tell myself. I slide my finger across her cheek, pushing the hair from her delicate face. She’s so peaceful and innocent when she’s sleeping. I pull away, swallowing the lump in my throat. I ignore the twist in my stomach that I hurt my toy, and walk out.

The next day I stay away from Raven, needing distance. My mind is everywhere with her. I upped my game last night and I’ve felt like a piece of shit since. Trying to hang in the balance of keeping her alive but doing my job at the same time is fucking with me. Yawning, I reach for the light and turn it off, ready to call it a night. The sound of Raven’s chain around her ankle echoes in the other room and my eyes pop open knowing she’s awake. It’s the most I’ve heard from her all day. “Machete,” an innocent tone of voice from Raven muffles from the other side. My heart skips a beat, wanting to hear her say my name again.

“Machete?” she repeats and my dick slowly swells in my jersey shorts from the naive sound in her voice. The simple word birthing my betrayal for my club. “What?” I growl, masking my pleasure from the sound of her saying my name like a silent prayer. “Can you leave the light on… please,” the desperation in her voice takes me aback. I swallow hard and sit up. My jaw ticking as I look in the direction of the lamp that is bolted to the wall. It’s more like a reading light than anything. It must be giving off a glow from under the door, though I didn’t peg it to be that bright. “No,” I growl. “Please?” she snaps but even with the rough tone, you can hear the despair in her voice. The desperation in her voice makes me inhale a mighty breath. “What do I get?” I question, knowing making a deal with the demon Lilith herself is risky business. “What do you mean?” “I mean you haven’t given me shit Raven, yet you want something from me?” I clarify. I already

have Zeek up my ass, the least she can do is fucking tell me something. Even if it’s about herself, it would do. “What do you want?” she asks meekly. “What do you think?” I sneer, that’s a stupid question. I want Cross. My hands aching for revenge on the motherfucker. She goes quiet, and I know for a fact she won’t give me Cross’s whereabouts for a measly light. He scares her, in fact, it might be the only thing that does scare her. I wonder if he is the reason why she was hiding in a motel outside Vegas. “Tell me why you would stay in a shitty motel?” I ask curiously. I hear her sigh, shifting onto her ass in front of the door. “Fewer people,” she replies. I can relate to that. People cause trouble, and though I like trouble… people also like to call the cops for stupid shit. They annoy me. “Will you turn the light on now?” she asks with a more heated tone. I don’t feel satisfied enough to grant her light though. I need more. “Not yet, tell me why you’re afraid of the dark

and I’ll turn the light back on,” I offer. Curious why something as dark as herself is scared of the shadows. Minutes pass and I lay back down. If she can’t even give me that, I can’t give her anything. “When I was imprisoned as a kid, I was always in the dark. Only voices to be heard, and when we were allowed the warm light that only the sun had to offer… it came with pain,” she explains. Inhaling a breath, I hang my head, hearing her anguish making me feel things I don’t want to feel. “Sometimes, they would throw a black sheet over my cage and I would scream until I lost my voice,” she continues. I furrow my brows. As much as I like her screams, to hear it fade out is almost chilling. “We all have had bad shit happen to us, get over it,” I rebuttal, thankful she can’t see the look of sympathy on my face. Her despair untangles me from my own self-worth. For the first time in a long time, I have the urge to put someone before myself. “You asked,” she replies in almost a whisper. “Why in the hell did you go back to Cross? You

guys were set free, yet you went back?” I ask, needing to know why she would do that to herself. It’s like the moth that ran back to the spider because it wasn’t fully eaten the first time. “What do I get if I tell you?” My head snaps up and a smirk kicks up along my face. Most people would do anything to please me, wanting to get on my good side. Not Raven, she wants to be my equal. I like that. “How about I’ll feed you in the morning?” I counteroffer. “You wouldn’t understand,” she mumbles through the door. My brows furrow. “Try me.” “The same reason you’re in a 1% club. Being accepted by people who are the same as you is better than pretending you’re something you’re not… so you don’t feel lonely,” she explains. My brotherhood is exactly that. They took me in and all my illicit ways, made me feel home as every one of them has their issues. “Cross offered me a cure to my pain, and I graciously accepted,” she continues. “Good

initiative, bad judgment you know?” My spine goes stiff hearing her say those exact words. My father used to say them to me. He was in the military and was an abusive motherfucker. I was an accident, not meant to be born and he fucking hated me for it. The phrase refers to when a problem needs to be solved, but the outcome is more problematic. I’m a fucking problem. “You would have done the same,” she whispers as if she knows everything about me. “Some would say the same about you. Good initiative, bad judgment,” I state. She is the problem that needs to solve all of our problems, but she might be the biggest mistake for me. “Ditto,” she mouths. Anger pulses in my neck, she doesn’t know me. My fucking record tells her nothing about the man that I really am. She doesn’t know the hell I went through and for her to suggest otherwise pisses me off. “You don’t fucking know me, Raven. Remember that,” I seethe. Hating that she’s trying to compare us. I don’t like this shit. I was ordered here to torture her, not keep her company. I can’t

be around a female that I can relate to, that I might have sympathy for and I hit both fucking checkmarks for Raven. Maybe I have gone too soft on her, and now she thinks she knows how this is going to play out for her. Raven doesn’t reply, just the sound of the chain skidding across the floor to be heard. I need to hear her pain, draw the line of my affection for her and why I’m down here in the first place. Heading into her cell, I keep the lights off as I open the door. She’s on the floor, her arm in the air to block the light of the lamp in my room. Her black hair is in her eyes as she looks up at me with innocence. My shirt looks epic on her, those pebbled nipples poking into the fabric. “You think you know me?” I ask, stepping further into the room, the whole room smelling of her. It’s colder in here than where I’m staying. She stands, tucking a hair behind her ear before slowly walking to me. Her bravery not going unnoticed. Nobody just bluntly walks up to me with such confidence. Her feet pitter-patter along the floor as she makes her way to me, one eyebrow

raised in a challenge as she smirks. Stopping inches from me, she stares up at me with confidence. “Yes, I know you,” she whispers and I snarl in reply. Reaching out and grabbing her by the nape of her neck I pull her nearly flushed with my chest. Her body sways into mine, and the way her eyes light up from my touch doesn’t go unnoticed. “You think you know me so well, do you think I’ll turn the light on for you then?” I ask, curious what kind of man she thinks I am. She looks over my shoulder looking at the light before her eyes tear into mine. “Yes, but not before I give you something in return.” I smile wolfishly. I don’t like that she thinks I will do it, but at least she knows I definitely won’t do it unless I get something in return. “What is it that I want?” I entertain her. “You mean besides Cross?” She tilts her head to the side, her tone of voice starting to grate on my nerves. “You want control of me,” she mutters, and my

eyes flare. I do want to control her. I want to own her. I want her and it fucking hurts to admit that. My club is my life and if they heard my internal thought I could have my colors inked off my back and kicked from the club only to be lost to the world. A traitor for life. Then again, I can’t help but want to be in control of this dark creature. Is infatuation worth losing it all? “Ask me to leave the light on, pet,” I lower my head at her, demanding her obedience. I hunger for it, fucking thirst for the need of this woman to want me. To understand what I’ve given her; life. She looks down, debating on whether or not she should. “P-Please leave the light on, Machete,” she stammers, her tough act fading quickly. Tossing the hair from her eyes, she looks back up at me. Those dark devil eyes shining with desire. “Nooo,” I reprove her, my finger sliding along the dip of her collarbone. “Say, ‘please leave the light on, Master.’” Her eyes widen with my request, her tongue

sliding along her bottom lip in thought. I’ve never wanted to hear the word so bad in my life. I need to hear it though, for her to understand her life is in my hands. Without me, she is at the mercy of my club. I am her fucking master as far as I’m concerned. “No,” she clips, and my stomach knots. It’s the biggest insult yet. “No?” I tilt my head to the side, hoping I heard her wrong. “You heard me. No,” she cocks her chin upward. Not only does she not fear me, she doesn’t respect me. I am not in control here, she is not mine and that unhinges me. Why in the fuck am I holding back with her discipline when she doesn’t even care that I’m putting my ass on the line for her? Zeek is already questioning why I haven’t left a mark on her. It’s time she realizes just how kind I’ve been. “Is it not I that is in control of your pain, your food, your water?” I ask, anger laced in every word. Her eyes lighten up as if I just made sense for the very first time. “Your safety is in my control,

Raven. Everything you do is because I allow it. The more you please me, the more I give.” Walking out of the room I head to the wall of pain and grab a crop off it. Sliding my hand along the rubber flap at the end, I take a deep breath and try to calm the animal inside of me. As much as I want to hurt her, make her see what I’ve been holding back. I want to care for her in return. Maybe the two go hand in hand? Heading back inside her room, I flick the light on and find Raven standing where I left her. “Bend over!” I demand, slapping the crop in my hand. My head rising and eyes smoldering as I look down at my challenge. I’ve never hit or spanked a woman before. It both excites me and terrifies me. Will she like it? Hate it? What if she cries? What if she gives me Cross, what will I do with her after that? A little piece of me hopes she never tells me where Cross is, then I can keep her down here just for myself. Forever. “What for?” she sasses, pulling her shirt further down to hide her pink panties. “Because I said to,” I growl through clenched

teeth. Stepping over to her I grab her by the shirt and jerk her around. Pressing on her lower back I bend her over the bed. My shirt rides up her back, displaying cute fucking panties halfway up her ass crack. Grabbing them I jerk them down her hips in one quick move. She mews, and my cock begins to pulse in my jeans. I don’t notice a pad or tampon string so she must be off her period. The light in the other room shines just right and I notice a scar on her lower back in the shape of in X, and I frown. It’s not something from a bicycle accident or a scratch. Someone put it there. It’s red and angry looking as if whoever marked her didn’t care for it afterward. I grit my teeth at the mis-care of her well-being. I run my finger over it, and she tenses beneath my touch. “Someone do this to you?” I question, and she looks over her shoulder silently. My eyes trail from the scar down to her soft butt cheeks on full display. She has the perfect ass. Round and thick. You can tell she works out, keeps it tight as fuck. I

have to grit my teeth to restrain myself not to skim them along the supple rounding of her backside. I have no self-control, I can’t resist. I have to at least touch her, to feel her skin. I reach down against better judgment and grab her left ass cheek. Just as I imagined. Soft, silky, and firm. My dick is jealous; it’s pressing into my zipper painfully, wanting to rub against her just as much. Pushing herself up with her hands, her mouth parts with pleasure with a perfect fucking moan. She’s not scared of my touch, in fact, she seeks it. It reminds me of why I’m in here in the first place. To show her pain, that I am not one to break to her but the other way around. I’m in fucking control! “You may very well be the queen of hell, Raven, the fucking demon Lilith to be exact, but while you’re in my den, I’m the fucking Devil. I’m the fucking Master. Understand?” Flicking the crop against her supple butt cheeks a moan escapes her mouth and my jaw drops in reaction. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but for her to like it was surely not it. Her moxy is my lure. The impulsive need to hear it again, I arch my

arm back and slap her ass firmly. The crop bites against her skin in a blink of an eye, the sound of it slapping against her skin nearly making my eyes roll in my head. She hisses through cherry colored lips and I swear to God I’m about to blow my fucking load in my pants when she mews for more. Red stripes paint across her backside and it’s fucking beautiful. Mixing pleasure and pain is my vice and I cannot control myself. “Say my name,” I whisper into the darkness, my words surprising me. I was here for pain, not pleasure. She looks over her shoulder, her eyes hazy with lust. She likes the pain, she wants me to give it to her, and goddamn it if I don’t want to give it to her. Not one to displease, I whip her twice in a row and her head tosses back with a loud moan ripping through her small body. Goose bumps rise along her lower back, and I stretch my arms out on either side of my body and growl like a beast. God I fucking love this! The adrenaline racing through my veins like crack.

“Machete!” she whimpers, ecstasy thick in her voice. She arches her back, and all I can think about is busting my load all over those cute as fuck back dimples. A bead of cum drips from the tip of my dick making my briefs stick to my cock uncomfortably. My balls pulse to thrust two fingers deep into her hot cunt as I slap this crop firmly against that fine ass. She really is like Lilith, corrupting me and taking over my thoughts. Making me want her instead of despising her. “Say it!” I grit, my hand gripping the crop hard. She cries as if she’s about to come without me even touching her, her body tensing, and her little toes curling into the floor. I really don’t have any control over her. Her coming was not my intention, her feeling pleasure when I don’t want her to feel it pissing me off. “Did I say you could come?” I demand, my fingers choking the crop. Her cheeks flush, and her fingers scratch into the mattress. Her body sways toward me, her pursuit for the crop more dominant than my disappointment with her. Her head slowly crooks back, she’s panting and

her forehead is sweaty. Her eyes shining with chivalrous. Having enough of this fucking game, I lift the crop as far back as it can go and strike it against her back. The sound of the smack delayed before she screams out with pain, and though it’s music to my ears to finally hear the terror in her voice. I seek more, need to hear more. Louder! “I’m in control Raven!” I roar, slamming the crop against her back again and again. The crop vibrating in the palm of my hand bliss. My bicep flexing with each swipe of the crop. “Your comfort is in my control!” I slap her. “Scream for me, pet!” I beg through clenched teeth. Needing to hear she wants me in her cries. She screams so loudly my hand halts mid-air. I notice for the first time the dark purple marks marring her perfect skin where the blood has risen under the skin. My chest suddenly constricts in a sickly manner looking at what I’ve done. I lost control. I hurt my pet. This woman is in my head no matter what I do. I didn’t mean to go this fucking far. This raw feeling pressing into the center of my

chest is new. Hearing her distress makes my skin crawl rather than prickle with passion. Why? She looks over her shoulder, her body rising and falling as she pants. Her skin slick with sweat, and heartbeat so loud I can hear it drumming from where I stand. She nearly moans as her arms give out and she falls onto the bed. “You’re the master,” she whispers out of breath. She’s fully mine, no matter what. That’s when I realize I have to get the fuck out of here or I’m going to fuck her into this shitty bed. I’m going to betray my brotherhood, and never look back. Blinking slowly, I back up. My hand whiteknuckling the crop. The slight redness against her ass is a masterpiece, but the hard purple marks from the crop on her back makes me want to run to her side and cradle her. I rub my forehead, confused by the sudden urge of affection. “What the fuck?” I whisper to myself in dismay. I’m fucking confused, and conflicted with these fucking feelings for this dark bitch. Turning away, I flip the light off, and quickly shut the door.

Breathing heavy, I try to understand why I feel like a goddamn sissy. It’s like hearing her pleasure made the animal in me run to its cage. I want her. My affection for her breaking me into a goddamn pussy. “Turn the lights on!” she cries, the sound of her chain whipping against the concrete echoing in my head. The sound of pain makes me want to turn the lights on, to go in there and hold her, and rock her. But I can’t. I’m crossing lines, ones that if word gets out, Zeek will kill me. My walls are falling for this woman and I can’t pick the pieces up quick enough. “Shut up!” I beg, but she doesn’t. She whimpers, and screams into the darkness. I drop to the floor, the crop still in my hand as I pull at my hair and scream with her. My throat burns from my own roar, every blood vessel in my neck aching. I’m losing my goddamn mind down here with her. The plan was to break her. Not break me. “Turn the light on!!” she cries, and I clench my eyes shut. Hands on the floor my fingers come into

contact with a worn piece of paper. The poem from Raven’s room to be exact. Grabbing it I slide up against her door and begin to read it aloud “Tapping on my chamber door,” I read aloud, my heart slamming in my chest. My eyes seeking the poem, rapidly trying to focus on a particular sentence. Her screams quiet, the chain not rattling near as loudly. “What did you just say?” she whispers against the door. I slide the paper under the door, and she snatches it. She’s quiet, nothing to be heard. Out of nowhere, her fist slams against the door, making me jump where I sit. “Nevermore!” she cries from the other side the sound of longing and agony laced in her voice. This poem terrorizes her, like something out of a scary movie. Though the poem fucking confuses me, I know the word nevermore means never again. No future. The entire bunker is quiet. She shut up and I can breathe again. My head throbs as I think about everything that just happened. I crossed a line I

can’t get back from. I want her. I want to keep her and Zeek will never let that happen. The paper is shoved roughly back under the small slit under the door. As if she can’t get away from it fast enough. A relationship full of hate, but familiarity. Bending down, I swipe it up crumpling it in my hand. Swallowing hard, I saunter over to the couch and plop down. My mind and heart reeling. Why do I feel sick to my stomach when she is hurt? Why am I fucking feeling at all? Looking at the poem, my eyes land on the word ‘nevermore.’ Does she feel like she has no future, that nothing good will come of her? I shake my head, knowing damn well it has something to do with Cross. This woman came from hell, and nothing I can do will change that. Staring into the darkness in the direction of the door concealing my toy, I wonder if the reason I can’t look away from her is because we are both hurting from the inside. The only way to save each other is to save ourselves. I drift off into a slumber filled of nightmares

and heartache. A beautiful Raven following me everywhere I lurk.

MY SPINE IS STIFF straight, and my eyes are so wide they hurt. Oh my God, he found the poem. My feet frozen to the floor I’m stuck where I stand, my body trembling as I recite the entire poem silently in my head. It’s a fucking curse rather than something beautiful. Yet, it’s a part of who I am. Cross and my handlers would recite that fucking thing to me every day I was a kid, calling me the Raven that haunts innocent people. My lost family referred to as the innocent people in the poem. I lower my head. I called him master. I gave in. Desire and lust breaking my fucking will. He is my master though. Without him, who knows what kind of condition I would be in. Everything I do is up to

him. Machete is breaking me mentally, and my body is defying me sexually. My back is ablaze, parts of it numb and others a searing burn. I came alive under his hand, my body responding to pain in ways I never knew possible. I was practically begging him to whip me again until he lashed down on me so hard my teeth chattered. That was the last straw in my defiance and he knows it. However the way he reacted, I don’t think he expected me to behave the way I did. The bulge in his pants, the look of lust in his eyes. He wanted me and that unhinged him. Forbidden tones of lust are still lingering in the air. My nipples ache, my sex pulsing with wetness. I would have done anything for him to throw me down and have his way with me. Screw being saved, I just wanted to be spanked and fucked thoroughly. Slowly I make my way back to my cot and slide to the floor in a lost daze.

“Who is going to be free?” my handler taunted, and if I didn’t reply to his liking he would throw a blanket over my cage concealing me in darkness for hours, maybe days. The same words recited to me day after day confused me but were recited to me on the daily by my handlers. I soon learned it was a poem. “Nevermore,” I’d reply meekly. “Who is not going to eat if they don’t win today?” “Nevermore.” “Who is the black-headed little bitch whose family didn’t want her?” He slammed a bat on the cage and my body went as straight as a board. Knowing deep down I was going to lose the fight today. I was too sore, too hungry and weak. I stood no chance. “Nevermore!” I’d cry, my own self slowly slipping into madness. For the simple word was seared in my mind, but my soul was corrupting one heartbeat at a time. Shaking my head from the dark memory, tears

fill my eyes. Shifting where I sit my back rubs against the metal frame and I cry out in pain and push away from it. The whipping tore my back up. I try and look over my shoulder to see it, but it’s too dark in here. I turn back around and try my best to get comfortable. My thighs are sticky from being wet with arousal, and my body is on high alert from the pleasure and pain playing in the same field. Biting my inner cheek, I try to play through everything that just happened. We crossed a line I hope we cross again. Maybe he’s right about me being Lilith, but one thing’s for sure. You can’t have the queen of hell without a king. Lying down on the blankets I wipe at a lonely tear and stare into the darkness, the sound of Machete howling in pain on the other side comforting in some way. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one breaking so I howl with him. We’re two insane people stuck in a sane society. Little do they know, we’re more dangerous together than apart. This world is about to get a fucking wake-up call if our dark hearts fall for each other. Maybe my

best weapon is just that... Us. Together. Maybe then our pain of what this world has to offer us will be more bearable.

I wake up slick with sweat and my back aches with every twitch. The heat is heavy in the room. So thick it’s making it nearly impossible to breathe so I know it’s day outside. My stomach cramps painfully and I double over in pain. It’s been days since I’ve last eaten and my body is protesting. Inhaling a ragged breath, I stand as straight as I can and saunter over to the metal door. I pound on it with my fist but it’s pathetic. I’m weak from the pain and not eating, and before long my organs are going to shut down. I forgot what it feels like to be this hungry. I’m not as strong as I was back then. Looking over my shoulder I opt to drink the water from the toilet, it’s disgusting but it will keep me alive.

“What?!” Machete shouts, his voice muffled from sleep. My heart sags with relief that I won’t have to drink from the toilet. We made a deal, he has to feed me today and he better hold up to his end. “You promised me food and it’s hot in here, open the fucking door!” I demand more than I should, seeing I’m on the opposing end of the door. He doesn’t reply. “You’re being a shitty master letting me starve!” I insult. Locks slide along the metal door and I step back as it swings open. Cooler, fresher air wafts into the room and I take a breath so deep I fall to my knees. “Goddamn I love it when you call me master,” he smiles wolfishly. I bite my cheek to keep from lighting up inside. Hearing me please him makes me oddly happy. God, I’m fucked up. “You look like shit,” Machete eyes me. I glance down at myself. I’m dirty, sweaty, hunched over in pain, and fucking starving. I’m a mess. Slowly I raise my head to push the hair out of my eyes.

Machete is wearing camouflage shorts and no shirt. His red hair a mess in the best way possible. His chest covered in colorful tempting ink, and his physique so built I have to drop my eyes to the floor to mask my desire for this fucking animal. “Food,” I heave. “Water. Something, please?” I beg, and I hate it. I hate that I’ve broken to the point of begging for essentials. Some things never change. I’ve exchanged one handler for the next. Only Machete is handsome and unpredictable. He steps behind me, and hunches down. Slowly he lifts my shirt, and my nipples perk. I hear him grit his teeth as he examines my back. A finger trailing a mark all the way across my back. “How are you?” he whispers with a softer tone. My heart flutters in my chest from the care in his voice. “Just really thirsty,” I reply. He sighs and stands to leave. Moments later he returns from around the corner holding a cold glass of water. My mouth salivates as my eyes nearly bug out at the sight of liquid.

“You’re not going to spit this one in my face too?” he sneers, and I just give him a bitch look in reply. I’m kind of regretting spitting water in his face now. “Chair.” Machete points to the chair behind me. The piss stained chair. Looking behind me I stare at it with disgust. “How bad do you want it?” Machete taunts. Maybe I should have drunk from the toilet, it would have saved a lot of fucking trouble. Growling under my breath, I turn and climb into the damn chair, jerking the chain that is attached to my ankle with me. Machete flicks the light on and walks in. His presence takes up the entire room, owning it like he does everything and everyone around him from day to day. He’s a beast and not just any monster that lurks in the night. Machete wasn’t born with a dark heart, he was burned and scarred into the darkest insanity a man can possess… and he enjoys it. Making him the most dangerous creature of them all. Bending down, he sets the cup on the floor and pulls out black zip ties from his pocket.

“Really?” I ask in disbelief. I barely have strength to walk, and he’s worried I’m going to try and escape. “I can’t really say I’ve had my ass kicked by many women, and I’m not going to start that tally anytime soon, hun,” he states and I can’t help but laugh. The strength he sees in me makes me feel giddy. Pressing my arms along the arms of the chair the cool metal of the chair feels like heaven against my sweaty skin that I don’t even mind being tied up. Machete bends down, each of his strong hands on the arm of the chair. “Do you want some water?” His eyes ablaze, looking for control. I nod. “Yes, master.” He leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear and my mouth parts with arousal pulsing through me from the little contact. “I want to hear you say my name like I’m your fucking holy grail,” he whispers, causing a rush of goose bumps to race along my arms. Taking a breath, I bite my bottom lip. I hate him, I fucking hate him so much. Even

Cross and his crew didn’t play mind games with me like this. “Master Machete, please can I have a drink,” I ask, my eyes never leaving his. The vessel in his neck pounds as the words leave my mouth, his feral eyes glossing over. Something presses into my leg, and my eyes trail down finding Machete’s hard cock pressing firmly against his shorts and onto my knee. He wants me. I like that. A lot. I flick my eyes to his, a smirk slowly playing my lips. His mouth returns the wolfish smile and he turns around and grabs the cup of water. Slowly he presses the cool glass to my lips and tips it up slightly. One hand clasping the back of my head gently, the other on the glass. Water splashes into my dry mouth like the first rain of the summer in Nevada. A supple moan escapes my nose as I take as much as he will give. I nearly choked trying to breathe and drink at the same time. The amount of water I receive is under his control. I, am under his control.

He takes the cup away and my mouth chases it as far as it can before my restraints pull me back into the chair. “Not too much or you’ll get sick,” he advises. I pant, taking in full breaths of air now that I’m not drinking. He rests his hands on his hips, hair in his eyes. “How is your back? Tell me the truth,” he asks softly. He seems bothered by my back, did he not mean to whip me that hard? I shrug, knowing he won’t be happy until I give him a full answer. “It’s okay, I can’t really see it,” I respond. I’m sore but it’s nothing too terrible. Striding behind me, he shimmies up my shirt once again and presses his hand into the back of my head to push me forward. He sighs, the hand on my head massages my scalp. It makes my body come alive, and my eyes nearly roll. “I’ve seen worse, but I’ll get some cream for you to help it heal faster. Okay?” he states. My head whips in his direction, the idea he cares about my injuries so much, confusing me. Warm, passionate eyes look back at me as his finger slowly

presses further down my back. “Maybe I’m not the shittiest master?” he suggests, and I swallow the sudden lump forming in my throat. “Why do you have an X scarred into your back?” I tense. He touched it last night, but I wasn’t ready to reveal what exactly happened. I’m not now either. “Why do you care?” I ask in a whisper. “I know someone did it, tell me what happened,” his voice strong and slicing through me like his machete. “All of the kids that were kidnapped got an X, like a label or something,” I mumble. His fingers trail over it, causing goose bumps to rise along my spine. “It was a long steel iron they put in a fire before pressing it into our lower back. I passed out from the pain, and mine took longer to heal because it got infected. I’ve tried creams to lighten it, but they don’t work.” I shrug. His eyes narrow as a look I haven’t seen on him before passes across his face. Something… softer. “You said it got infected, did you get sick?”

I nod. “Very. I remember having a bad fever, and some woman coming in and giving me shots every day. The other kids got really mad at me because I was given food and water for three days straight until my fever broke. They would…” I trail off. “Tell me,” he demands. “The other kids thought I was getting special treatment so they would throw their buckets of shit and piss at my cage.” I lift my head, strengthening my voice. My bottom lip trembles as I replay the memory, but I won’t let it win. I won’t cry. I hear Machete grit his teeth, as he jerks my shirt back down not saying a word. “What?” I ask. He rubs at his chin. “Just… it makes me mad that someone has the strength to do something like that and not care for you afterward,” he admits. “Why would they?” My forehead wrinkles with curiosity. He brushes a hair from my face, his eyes silently speaking to my heart, but I don’t know

what they’re saying. Pulling his hand away, I watch as he disappears into the other room. The sound of plates clinking together. My stomach cramps from the water I sipped earlier hitting an empty pit. Closing my eyes, I swallow the lump in my throat and push through it. It’s been so long since I’ve had to go through this. Starving, dehydration. I was young and strong then, now I’m not so sure I can withhold much longer. Turning the corner, Machete comes back into the room biting into a sandwich full of meat, lettuce, and mayo drips from the end. I’m not sure what I’m excited about most. The sandwich or him eating it without a shirt on. He looks like he belongs in a commercial for sandwich products rather than an outlaw keeping someone prisoner. Striding up to me he stops, his stance wide and one brow raised arrogantly. “You want a bite?” he teases huskily. Looking up through heated eyes I purse my lips and pull at my restraints. I swear if I could get loose I’d gag him until he died with that fucking

sandwich. Maybe not, I am pretty fucking hungry. “Yes,” I sneer with a pretty smile. “See why I’m your master, something as simple as a sandwich is in my power. How I make it, how I take care of you. All, in my control.” I nod, understanding fully that he is taking care of me. That he does care, even if he has a weird way of showing it. Hunching down, he holds the sandwich in front of my face. Just out of reach. The smell of fresh bread and savory meat makes my stomach growl and nostrils flare. I want just a bite, anything will justify this unbearable cramp in my belly. Using my tongue, I flick at the mayo just as a dollop is about to drop. Salty yumminess coats my tongue, and my eyes roll in the back of my head as some slips from my lip and falls on my chin. Machete sucks in a tight breath eyeing me like he wants to bite into me. Using his thumb, he gently wipes the dripped mayonnaise off my face and presses it to my lips with a callused fingertip. My heart flutters in my chest as my eyes fall on his. Emerald smoldering eyes bore into me, and I’m

seared to the spot I sit. Against better judgment, I suck his thumb into my mouth and lick his fingertip clean. It’s salty and warm, and I want to lick and suck much more than that. My thighs clench and my panties dampen with arousal as I taste him everywhere in my mouth. This is so much more than a feeding; this is torment on a whole other level… and my twisted heart says it’s the best dinner I’ve had with a male companion. The only one to be exact. The door to the main room suddenly opens, and Machete stiffens. I look over his shoulder and see Zeek, Felix, and Gatz enter and head toward us. They’re all wearing their cuts and looking dangerously handsome as usual. Zeek leading everyone right into my cell I tense and grit my teeth. Lust slips from my face and I place my survival mask back into place. “You’re feeding her?” Zeek asks in disgust. I scowl at him. “You wanted me to keep her alive, how can I do that if I starve her?” Machete snaps in reply, sandwich still in his hand. His eyes hit mine, and I

know now more than ever he really is taking care of me. Putting his neck out there just for Zeek to slice off at the end of the day. Zeek looks at me with a heated stare, Felix’s face matching the same hatred. “The mafia sent us a gift,” Gatz informs holding a bloody cardboard box. Machete looks over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing in on the box.

Handing Zeek the sandwich, I take the box from Gatz and pull it open. The smell of decay and blood hitting me first, I’d recognize the smell from anywhere. Looking into the cardboard It’s the severed head of Gia, a club whore. Her eyeballs are dislodged, and mouth gaped open with a golden bullet between her teeth. Her hair is stained with blood, and mascara ran down her cheeks. Reaching in, I grab the bullet from between her teeth. It’s definitely a message from the Mafia,

and more of ours will end up in a box if we don’t settle the score. They’re pissed we chased Cross off, and the way things got heated at the last meeting we had, they’re even more pissed. Closing my eyes, I put the bullet back in her teeth, and I shut the box. “Can you fucking believe that?” Felix asks with disbelief. He used to fuck with Gia, and I can’t help but notice emotion pass his face. Good thing Alessandra isn’t here to see it or his head would be in the box too. “Yes, I can. You going fuckin’ ape shit and killing two of their guys at the last meeting wasn’t going to go without consequence, dumb fuck,” I shake my head. “I need you by my side. You down?” Zeek asks, his eyes telling me he needs his brother at this dire time. The club needs to retaliate and show we aren’t backing down without a fight. “You settling this now?” I ask. I’m all for shooting now and asking later, but Zeek isn’t much for that impulsive act these days. That’s why he’s the president and I’m not, I guess.

“Yeah, they want to meet us at the Casino. Now,” Felix fills in the information. I look to Raven. “What about her?” I ask, not wanting to just leave her alone down here. I feel like I’m finally getting somewhere, and last time I left Raven with someone, Zeek was ready to snap her in two. “I’ll watch her,” Gatz offers. Before I have time to accept, Zeek agrees. “Good, let’s go.” Looking at Raven one last time, I hand Gatz the sandwich. She’s so helpless and beautiful tied to that chair. Her black hair falling in her face and dark eyes looking at me like she only trusts me to torment her and care for her. That does something to me, that she wants only me to cause her pain and then make it better. I want to make it better, I want to stay down here in this fucking bunker and show her the kind of master I can be. But my brotherhood needs me. “Feed her, then leave her alone,” I instruct Gatz. He gives me an awkward look, but I dismiss it.

I wink at her before following my boys out.

Gatz shakes his head and takes a bite of the sandwich and I want to cry. That’s my food. I can’t help but notice he’s more cleaned up than the other men in the club. He has a boyish charm to him too that the others in his crew don’t possess, but his scary tattoos indicate he’s capable of much more. There’s webbing up his arms, a beautiful spider at his elbow. A black widow maybe? Makes me wonder how people come up with these ideas for tattoos. Hunching down, he clips the zip tie clasped around my right hand and I quickly sigh, rubbing at the raw flesh around my wrist with my other hand that is still tied to the chair. I’m not sure how much more my wrists can take before the skin starts to bleed. “Here.” He hands me the sandwich.

I eye him, curious why he’s not threatening me, and why he’s being so nice. He must sense my unease as his forehead creases. “They may fear what you’re capable of, but I’m not them. Deep down, I know you’re just a fucked up little girl,” he states dryly. Rolling my eyes, I snatch the sandwich from him and sink my teeth into it. The juices fill my mouth and I swear I inhale more than I chew as I shove the whole thing in my mouth. I choke as lettuce gets caught in my throat, but I just take another bite, pushing that chunk further down. I’ll never underestimate a sandwich again! Gatz leans against the wall, his legs kicked out in front of him as he watches me closely. It’s creepy. “What?” I ask, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “You. I find you very intriguing,” he admits. I scoff, I’m basic. Plain. Vanilla. “Trust me, there’s nothing interesting about me.” “Oh yeah, who keeps a torn up poem under

their pillow?” he tilts his head to the side, and my heart stops at the mention of the damn thing. Did they all read it? Swallowing the chunk of food in my mouth I look down at the bread, picking at it mindlessly. “Do you like or hate it?” he prods with a curious tone. I flick my gaze to his. “Both,” I admit. “It’s a part of me, ingrained in my head but I hate what it stands for,” I explain with a squinted face. “Ah, I get it. You’re the demon bird in the poem right?” I nod, he’s much smarter than I took him for. “Well, did you ever think the bird was a figure of the man’s imagination. Maybe he was insane before the bird ever got there, and he made the bird up to accompany him.” I give him a look, never seeing it that way. Is that even true? “I don’t think so,” I shake my head with a confused look pulling at my face. “How so? You see the bird as something bad, but I see it as a metaphor for a man seeking

someone to keep him company because he’s mourning his lover. His soul mate is gone and now his heart is so dark it’s poisoning his imagination.” With a twisted expression I look to the floor, not sure if he’s just trying to make me feel better or if it’s a possibility the Raven in the poem is what the imagination makes of it. “Do you have a family?” he changes the subject. Inhaling a breath, I drop my free hand in my lap and give him a narrowed look. “Somewhere. Why?” “I’m just curious how a pretty girl like yourself got in such a fucked up situation like this one. Surely there’s more to you than what meets the eye,” he shrugs, and that’s when it begins to make sense. He’s trying to find an angle to attack me; a weakness. “Trust me, you don’t want to see what is inside of me,” I clip with a hateful tone, granting me an irate look from Gatz. Noting that things inside my head and soul are much darker than anyone could handle. Being raised by serial killers and convicts

prepares you for anything and a lifetime of nothing but solitude. Gatz pushes up off the wall, his shoulders puffed out as I just pissed him off with my tone. Grabbing my hand roughly, he slams it back to the arm of the chair and locks it back into place with the cut piece of zip tie. “I might be your only friend in all this little girl. Keep that in mind when you want to play bitch next time,” he seethes, showing me the outlaw he can truly be. Inhaling a breath, I jerk my head to sweep the hair out of my eyes. “I have no friends. No family, and no fucks to give.” I lift my chin, trying my hardest to keep my hard shell intact. I can feel it about to give, to crack and bleed emotion all over my chains. These Outlaws are tearing down barriers that were there to help me survive. Gatz chuckles as if I don’t get it. “You’re a dead girl still breathing. If you’re smart, you’ll take that wall down and let someone in before your life is cut short,” he threatens,

confirming what I always thought. That Zeek is going to kill me when this is all over. “Who, like you?” Emotion laced in my voice. Gatz looks down, his eyes peering up through his thick lashes. “No, I don’t give a fuck about you,” he says upfront. “But I see the way Machete looks at you, and the way you look at him.” He crosses his arms, standing tall. I don’t reply. My chest constricts, nervous at what Gatz will say. “Maybe you can save each other,” he mutters under his breath and that sentence was a grenade at the stubborn strength. “Maybe we’re past saving,” I whisper, tears filling my eyes. Gatz looks over his shoulder, his hands tucked into his dark washed jeans. “Nobody is unredeemable.”

FOLLOWING ZEEK INTO the city we ride to the Sin Casino. Slowly the desert turns into buildings and fast cars. The smell of outdoors turning sour from the rancid City. It makes me want to turn back and hide in the bunker with princess darkness herself. The casino used to be run by Zeek’s Uncle Frank and his right-hand man Cross. The motherfucker we’re after, he wants the club and we aren’t going down without a fight. We are the original Outlaws, living by our own rules. Sometimes the actions of our laws are impulsive and can lead us into a shit storm. Us being a brotherhood, we have each other’s back no matter what though. Pulling into the private parking behind the casino. The mafia tends to have its meetings with us

here instead of the clubhouse. As the casino is theirs, and the clubhouse is ours. Not to mention, if shit goes wrong and they’re in our clubhouse… they’ll all die. So it’s smart they stay on their own ground. I put my motorcycle on its kickstand and pull my helmet off. “So what is the plan exactly?” I ask, not sure if we are going in guns blazing or if we are here to have a nice chat. I don’t do polite conversations, so I’m willing for option A. With my emotions running fucking wild in my head from Raven, I could go for some blood shedding. Get my head back into the game. “ I think we should run the casino, and they will get with that or we will fight them until they give in or we die,” Zeek explains, lighting a cigarette. Smoke spilling from his lips and wafting around him effortlessly. “I’m sure they will be more than willing to just hand everything over,” I reply sarcastically, taking the cigarette from his lips and taking a drag myself. “I really don’t want to be polite tonight. Can’t we just go in there and cut his head off and put it in a

better box?” Zeek shakes his head, trying to hide a smile. “No,” he kills my fun. “ I have a plan,” he informs. “They will make a deal with us because we are going to give them Cross,” Zeek says with a wolfish grin, and my mouth nearly hits the fucking concrete. “You’d do that? You would give them Cross just to settle a score? Don’t you want Cross’s blood?” I can’t fathom what the hell Zeek is thinking. Cross came at us, tried to break our brotherhood and he’s just going to give that soul to another? Not to mention in the back of my head the way he ruined Raven and hurt her. It makes me want to pull his limbs off like a fucking doll. “What about Gia’s head?” Felix asks with crossed arms. “My club means more to me than Cross or Gia. It’s all I know and understand and without it, I’m not just lost but my family is. Does anyone disagree with handing Cross over and ending this shit?” Zeek looks around at me, Felix, and Mac. “No, brotherhood first,” I mutter, knowing I

have to put my thirst for revenge to the side. This is my family and if it means my brotherhood is safe … then I will fall in line and hand Cross over. I support Zeek. “No, I’m in,” Mac says with a curt nod, his hands balled into fists. “Should we hug now?” Felix asks sarcastically, and we all chuckle. “I don’t even hug the bitches I fuck, so I don’t see me cuddling your ugly ass,” I jut my chin at him.

Following Zeek inside of the casino, the smell of stale smoke and alcohol is strong. The sound of slot machines going off, and people yelling in excitement that they’re winning in the distance. I don’t gamble. I don’t have good luck in life so why would I take the gamble with my money. Seems fucking stupid. We head into the VIP elevator and jet towards the top of the casino where the office is held.

The elevator doors ding, and I follow my president into the office. Strong cologne and cigar smoke fill the room. A fat man in a tuxedo sits behind the desk with five identical men at his side. They’re all wearing white wife beaters and track pants. Guns in their hands that are casually crossed in front of them, and gold chains and rings shining from the lights above. They came with extra heat so Felix won’t be taking out anyone without a blood show this time. I scan over the room. An expensive wooden desk, a bar stocked with the top brands of whiskey, and the back wall lined with tinted glass, giving you a bird’s eye view of the city. I smirk remembering Frank falling out that window. The fat man stares at us through the cigar smoke, his heated eyes passing from one Outlaw to the next. He’s wearing a Gucci suit, gold and diamonds on each one of his stubby fingers, and a black hat sits to the side on the desktop. His face is round, and a dark five o’clock shadow sprucing along his jawline. The hairs on my neck stand, my trigger finger

feeling itchy. I swallow hard, this rotund man isn’t a loose asset the mafia sent to do their dirty work. This is one of the main men of the mafia himself. The tattoo of a praying Mary across his neck indicating so. We really fucked up this time. Fucking Felix going cowboy at the last meeting really fucked us. “Fucking sit,” the fat man barks, and the men strapped with AK’s aim at us. Zeek steps up to the desk with a certain confidence in his stance and scratches his temple with his pistol. My teeth grit and I keep my hand on my own weapon. I don’t like the feel in the room, tension is thick and my urge to kill every one of these gangsters is beyond controllable. Sure I might die trying but that’s what my way of life is about. To die with a purpose, not with fucking dreams untold. “This won’t take long,” Zeek explains arrogantly, and the boss laughs. His large shoulders rising and falling hard as he chuckles. “My men and I will be running this casino, and I will be running my motorcycle club. If you want

in on that, we can work something out,” Zeek informs, not seeming to give two shits that he’s amusing the man. “You killed one of our girls, you’re lucky we are even here trying to talk this shit out.” Felix grits his teeth. “Salvatore said you were a character.” the man shakes his head as if he’s talking to himself. “I like that arrogance you behold. Reminds me of your father. Not Cross though, I’m talking about the man you called daddy for years, that was before you killed him and took his club.” The man hisses the past, and I notice Zeek’s spine straighten. This man is fucking with his head, and I don’t like it. Zeek’s real dad was thrown in jail and members kept getting arrested, we all thought it was his dad ratting everyone out and Zeek had him killed on the inside. Only to find out in the end, his real dad is Cross. It’s fucked up. Some Jerry Springer type shit. “You know my father?” Zeek asks softly, referring to the man he called dad for years, but wasn’t blood. The man’s eyes race to Zeek’s. “Oh yes, he was

much easier to do business with too.” Zeek looks down with a solemn look and crossed his hands in the front of him with his weapon palmed tightly. “Enough of the family reunion, let’s get down to fucking business,” I bite hatefully, not liking the way this asshole is digging into my president’s head. One of the men pulls the chamber back on his weapon, eyeing me particularly. I smile and stretch my arms out. “If you think you’re lucky enough go for it… I’ll even let you get in a free shot,” I taunt. “Back down,” Fat man orders his men with a bored tone, and the man aiming at me lowers his gun. I laugh, thumping my chest with a tight fist like a fucking wild animal. “Easy, Machete,” Zeek warns, and I crack my neck. Easing the tension growing in my shoulders. “My name is Georgeno, and I will fucking say what is going to happen or do I need to explain to you who is running the show by gift wrapping another pretty head into a box?”

Felix and I whip our guns out at the same time, our fucking patience gone. Gia may have been a fucking bitch, but she was with our club and will be treated with respect by outsiders. Georgeno doesn’t even flinch at mine and Felix aiming our weapons at him. In fact, the men behind him aiming at us with intent force are ordered to lower their guns by a simple wave of Georgeno’s hand. “I’ll give you Cross,” Zeek tempts, and Georgeno’s eyes round. “Nobody knows where Cross is, because if they did… he’d be dead.” Georgeno tilts his head to the side, his tongue sliding across his teeth like a snake. “I have something Cross wants, and I am positive it will bring him out of hiding,” Zeek says with more confidence than I’m willing to bet on. Raven said herself that Cross doesn’t care about her, and I believe it. Or maybe I just want to believe it. Georgeno sighs, sitting back in his chair. He picks his black hat up, plucking lint off of it. “You’d do that? You’d give up your own blood?” Georgeno asks, his Italian accent thick.

I notice the veins in Zeek’s forehead protrude with that claim. “My father is dead, just because Cross was the sperm donor to my mother doesn’t mean shit to me,” Zeek clips. “Interesting way to see things,” he rubs at his cheeks with both hands. He seems so calm it unnerves me. “Do we have a deal or not?” Zeek implores, his jaw ticking. I can tell he’s two seconds away from sending the mafia a message of our own by redecorating the walls of this casino in blood. I gaze along the dull walls, it could use a touch of color. Georgeno mulls it over, looking every one of us over before pursing his lips tightly. “Deal,” he replies. Just like that. I narrow my eyes, not liking this deal one fucking bit. It’s too easy, too clean. “I’ll contact you when we have him,” Zeek explains, turning to leave and I follow. “Um, Outlaws,” Georgeno prompts, and I slowly turn my head in his direction, knowing I’m not going to like what he’s about to say. “Don’t make me wait too long or I will be

sending you another gift,” he begins to cackle, and my nostrils flare. I want to tear him open from the throat down. Shaking his head, Zeek slams the doors to the office open. “Machete, if Raven doesn’t give you the whereabouts of Cross, or if he doesn’t come for her in the next forty-eight hours… Kill her,” Zeek orders with a dead tone. I stop in my tracks, the change in tactics suddenly not sitting well with me. I couldn’t stomach whipping her, how the fuck am I going to kill her? Why am I second-guessing my fucking president? I feel sick to my stomach, the guilt of what is silently going on between Raven and I too much to withhold. Rubbing the back of my head I close my eyes as the elevator carries us down. What the fuck is happening to me?

On my way back to the bunker I decide to make a pit stop. One I’ve been meaning to make for a while now. It just pains me to go to a place darker than hell. Pulling into the Vegas psychiatric ward I park my bike and pull my helmet off. I shove my hair out of my face and look the large building over. It has an orange colored brick making up its walls, and a bunch of little barred windows in the front. There’s no bushes or flowers. It’s as cold on the outside, as it is on the inside. Standing from my bike I head toward the front door. Giving the handle a jerk it doesn’t open. I forget they keep it locked. My eyes fall on an arrow pointing to a silver voice box on the wall. I press the button on the intercom and it screeches. “How can I help you?” a high-pitched female voice asks. “I’m here to see my mom,” I inform her. I look behind me, feeling anxious. I hate this place. The door buzzes and clicks unlocked. Pushing it open the aroma of shit and lemon is strong. The floors are lined with cracked white tile, and the

walls are painted a light blue and are stained with dirty handprints. Some look to be out of a horror movie the way they scratch down the hall as if someone was dragging them and the only thing they had to keep hope of was the goddamn wall. There’s a long wooden desk blocking entry into the building, a smiling large woman sitting behind it, she has red curly hair and is smiling right at me. “Name please?” she beams, it’s unsettling. “Her name is Mrs. Ryder,” I inform the smiling lady. My fingers tap on the counter as I lose my patience. “All right, just sign this and her room number is #37, someone will be there to unlock her door when you get there.” She points in the direction of where the room is. I snatch the clipboard and sign it and hand it back. I don’t know what it says, probably some liability shit. Turning around, I head down the hall toward my mom. They locked her in her room again. Now what did she do? A tall man with a dark handlebar mustache laughs at a door down the hall, smacking it with a

stick in a teasing manner. He has on a tan shirt and pants, mimicking a UPS driver. My shoulders rise as I count the numbers on the door in passing. That motherfucker better not be messing with #37. Getting closer I stop, noticing he’s right in front of the door I was hoping he wasn’t fucking with. He looks at me with shit brown eyes and I glare. “You here for this crazy ol’ bat?” he insults, and I don’t answer. Just grit my teeth. His eyes fall on my cut, and I raise my chest with an inhale. Fury pulses in my neck, my fingers cracking as I tighten them into fists. “She fucking bit me this morning. So I put a muzzle on her,” he laughs, before unlocking her door. “You what?” I bark. He better be fucking joking. Stepping into the room I see my mother, and it’s not a joke. She has a fucking mask on her face. “Machete!” Mom lights up, her voice muffled behind the brown muzzle. She looks like a fucking animal in that thing. It infuriates me to see her in such hostile care. Nobody disrespects my mother.

Just as the man turns to leave I grab him by the collar and shove him inside the room. “Not so fast,” I growl, my grip tightening. His eyes widen, his face going pale as I slam him against the wall. “Take it off her, now!” I demand. I don’t care what she did, she’s a person and I won’t have her in that shit while I’m here. I let go of him, and he walks to her, his hands trembling as he unbuckles it from her head. “Okay, just don’t hurt me,” he asks with a pussy tone of voice. Mom shakes her curls free as soon as the mask is released, and smiles at me like she hasn’t seen me in weeks. She has freckles on her nose, and her face is clean of all makeup. She’s wearing a white shirt and gray sweatpants. Pink house shoes I got her last week sticking out amongst the dry colors of her outfit. The guard looks at me, trying not to make eye contact. He is scared of me, good. “Put it on.” I point at him. The man looks at me with a concerned look, as if I’m crazy. I am, I

should probably be in here with my mom but they wouldn’t have enough tranquilizers to take my ass down. “You heard him, Amando.” My mom smiles, straightening the comforter on her bed. Amando swallows, his eyes sizing me up as if he thinks he can take me. The challenge in his eyes is enough to push me over the edge. Lunging forward I snatch his nightstick from his hand and slam it up against his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing against it. “Fucking put it on!” I seethe. “I want you to see what it feels like!” If he doesn’t I will beat him within an inch of his life and put it on him. “Okay!” he screeches wrapping the mask around his face frantically. Looking him over, he reminds me of a scene out of Hannibal. “Good boy,” I smile, helping him buckle it in place. He stands there, lost, not sure what to do. I laugh. “You can go now.” I stretch my hand toward the metal door. He quickly steps that way but I stop him by placing my hand on his shoulder. My fingers

digging into his shit brown shirt. “If you ever fuck with my mom again, me and my crew will be back here and I will make sure that mask never comes off. Got it?” He nods frantically, and I pat his head like a good little boy before releasing him. As soon as he leaves I turn to embrace my mom. She smells of antiseptic, like a hospital. When I was a kid she always smelled like hairspray and cigarettes. I miss that smell over this one. She’s in here because my father brainwashed her. He was one hundred percent military and had my mom convinced tourists were after her. I remember one time when I was a kid she changed all our light bulbs in the house to red, because she said terrorists hate the color red. It got so bad that one day she locked five women in a Target bathroom and wouldn’t let them leave because she thought she was saving them and that put her straight in here. My dad convinced the court this is where she needed to be, and of course when my mother told the judge she wanted to cut my father up and feed him to the rattlesnakes, they thought it

was best she come here. She is a wild beauty, one I looked up to, and still do. She’s not perfect, and that is why I love her. She’s been diagnosed with schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. My father left her here to rot, but I come to see her weekly. You can learn a lot from her, like what tool saws through bone easier. For example, I used to think it was a cleaver, but it splinters the bone leaving DNA all over the place. Not good. “So, why’d you bite him?” I ask. She pushes me back an arm’s length away and gives me a crazy look. “Because he was getting fresh with me, I know he wants me,” she laughs before sitting down on the bed. “It’s just a game we play.” She brushes it off like her being put in a muzzle is no big deal. “Pretty sure biting a guard is against the rules, Mom.” I rub my chin, scowling. She throws a hand at me. “Since when have we followed rules,” she sasses. She’s never getting out of here. Heading to the bed, she sits on a pillow and pops off the top of her bedpost, pulling out a cigarette and matches.

“How ya been?” I ask, looking around the room. It’s bare. One chair and a bed. I hate that she’s in here. Can’t they put some flower shit on the walls or something? “Safe,” she informs blowing out smoke. “No terrorists in here, so far anyway,” she shakes her head. “I put together a group of a few ladies, we’re preparing a list for when we’re targeted by the terrorists.” She smiles at me brightly and I have to muster a smirk. Looks like her new meds aren’t working. “Sit, have a seat,” she offers, patting her bed. Giving a half smile I go and sit on the bed, rubbing the back of my neck anxiously. “Something on your mind, babe?” she asks, blowing smoke. She’s not even inhaling. “Mom, I was ordered to … watch a woman,” I explain hesitantly. I know I can come to her about anything, but I’ve never come to her about a female before. Her eyes light up, like I expected they would. “A woman, huh?” she waggles her brows. “Yeah, she’s a supposed enemy of ours, but I’m

not so sure she is.” I shake my head and she narrows her brows. “Wait, like a terrorist?” Her green eyes widen. “No, like someone hurt her, and she is trying to retaliate only our club was in the crosshairs of that grudge.” I cut the long story short. “And you’re having feelings for her, ones you don’t think you should.” She gives me a motherly look. I drop my head in my hands, my stomach filling with that knot of guilty emotion. “I haven’t done anything I’m supposed to,” I mutter. She should have fingers missing, teeth pulled, hell cuts amongst her beautiful thighs. “Does she know you’re in charge? Does this woman know what you’re doing for her?” “Doing for her?” I furrow my brows. “You’re putting your neck on the line for this prisoner, I hope she’s worth it.” “She’s not scared of me,” I whisper, saying it out loud making me angry. She smiles. “Better up your game, son. I think this woman just needs some tough love. Pain and

comfort are two main ingredients of emotion. If all she is feeling is one, then make her feel the other. ” Looks like I’m heading in the right direction then. “And my club?” I ask, not so sure they would agree. “They’re your family, they’ll have your back. Maybe.” She cackles, knowing how hot and cold we can be. Taking a deep breath I stand. I need to get back to Raven. “I need to get back, she’s smart. She might be escaping or making a shank out of a tampon,” I declare. My mom laughs. Stubbing her cigarette out on the wall. “Mrs. Ryder, are you smoking again?” a voice sounds outside the door. “Nooo,” she yells, blowing smoke into the room. I laugh and open the door to leave. The man that was fucking with my mom has the muzzle off and is walking quickly in the other direction. He better fucking run. Pervert.

THE SMELL OF MACHETE hits me first, waking me up from my slumber. My neck aches as it hangs forward, my chin pressed hard on my chest. I can’t feel my toes or my hands from the zip ties, and I’m thirsty again. Blinking slowly, I lift my stiff head finding Machete standing right in front of me. The look on his face is different than I’ve seen before. He looks conflicted, confused. “Master is home,” he informs gravelly. Squatting in front of me, he cuts my hands and ankles free. Quickly I go to stand, and I fall to my knees. I’m too weak and it angers me. I’m vulnerable and need help. He reaches down to help me up and I slap his hand away.

“I can fucking do it!” I declare. I hear him growl just before he links his arms under my body and lifts me up off the floor. He smells like worn leather, and I can’t help but stare into the side of his head. The red scruff on his cheeks calling for me to run my nails across. He heads into the bathroom and sets me down. The floor is ice cold against the back of my thighs, and I want to get up and resist, to run but I don’t have enough strength in me. He knows it, that’s why he’s not cuffing me to the heater like last time. Turning the shower on, warm water hits me where I sit. The shirt soaking to my skin. Closing my eyes, I lower my head back and let the water droplets spray into my mouth. I don’t even care that it’s warm, having something to drink is fucking heaven. Having enough of the water spraying up my damn nose, I lower my head to find him staring at me, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. “What?” I mutter. “I picked something up for you,” he says in a tone as if he hesitated telling me. I don’t reply, and he turns and leaves the room

before coming back in with a silver can. “It’s salve, for your back. The woman said it’s the best.” He shrugs before setting it on the floor. My eyes round, before shooting to his. The caring act making my eyes burn. Nobody has ever taken care of me, not like this. “Th-thank you,” I whisper, not sure how to take it in. He’s running his fingers through my mind and tearing at the strings that made me once numb. I’m feeling, my chest warming with gratitude and passion. He turns to give me some privacy. Moving slowly, I grab the hem of my shirt and try to raise it above my head, but my weak arms give out. My back still hurting, I wince and drop my arms. Tears prickle at my eyes. I can’t do it. “Can you help me?” I ask, not caring if he sees my bare tits right now. He turns, looking me over as if he’s mulling over my request. “Please,” I ask, and it’s fucking hard to spit the words out, but I smell and feel terrible. A shower right now is all I fucking want.

Bending down, he grabs my shirt and rips it up over my head with more force than necessary. He’s so formidable, I doubt he knows his own strength but it’s also what attracts me to him on levels I’ve never felt for a man before. His eyes fall on my chest and my nipples perk at the attention. I like it. I’ve never liked it before, in fact, I’ve stayed away from men over the years because I know what they’re capable of. However, my body doesn’t seem to get that same memo with Machete. I notice his jeans grow around the dick area, and I can’t help the tremble of my bottom lip. I want him to touch me in ways I’ve never been touched before. To spank me into a daze of desire and then take care of my wounds like I’m the only one that matters to him. To be my Master. God, I’m fucked up. He suddenly turns and steps out of the room. Music begins to play and it takes me a second to recognize the song, but it finally hits me. Seether, “Let You Down.” I sit there letting the water wash the filth and grime from my body, it’s not long before Machete

struts back into the room, turns the faucet off and hauls me up off the floor. My wet skin clinging to his white shirt. I’m naked, and my sex is very aware of it touching Machete’s strong frame. He flings my body onto the mattress like a wet rag. “Turn around, let me put this salve shit on you,” he demands. I nod and turn on my stomach. His fingers work the cream into my skin like magic. The smell of mint and lavender filling the room. He rubs my back carefully, taking such good care of me. The touch of his fingers making me inhale a shaky breath. I missed him. Suddenly he grips the nape of my neck. His caring demeanor suddenly gone. His rough touch turning me on. “Where is Cross, Raven?” His eyes look deep into mine, and I can’t help but giggle in reply. He doesn’t give up, does he? “If you don’t tell me now, and Cross doesn’t come for you soon… I will kill you.” I used to believe him when he threatened to end my life before, but now for some reason, his words don’t

have quite the execution that they used to. Then again, if he won’t do it someone else will. Leaning forward, my lips a breath from his I whisper, “Fuck you” lustfully. My body taking over my fear, my thoughts, my fucking everything. All I see is Machete, all I want is to feel good, to feel something other than pain and terror. I don’t want to be strong for once, I want to give in and be the weak. He growls, shoving me down onto the mattress hard. The way his hard leg sits in between my thighs makes my body react on its own and I gyrate wanting friction so badly, needing some kind of connection with this man before I combust. “What are you doing, Raven?” he asks huskily, the smell of him undoing me in ways I’ll never come back from. “I’m going to die, there is no avoiding that.” I tilt my head to the side and look him in his emerald green eyes. “I don’t want to die a virgin, Machete.” I notice him suck in a sharp breath at my confession, but he doesn’t move. “Before I leave this world, I want to know what

it feels like to be filled with passion and desire that it has no limits. A care so palpable it burns so deep you’ll never forget,” I whisper, my mouth spilling words before I can even think them through. I’m telling what I’ve been missing, and longing for. Him. His brows furrow inward as he takes in what I’m saying, his teeth grazing his bottom lip over and over. “Fuck me,” I state softly, spreading my legs wider in invitation. A vixen I never knew that dwelled within me ripping through my ribcage and throwing herself at this formidable beast. My sudden bravado takes me aback. Rejection hanging in the air, and my heart beats rapidly in my chest. The foreplay of us staring at one another, and the supple touches with hidden meaning have reached their peak and I can’t go on without having this man touch me or tell me there’s nothing here. I need to know either way. Machete growls and grabs me by the nape of the neck harshly. My mouth parts as a mewl slowly spills from my swollen lips.

The way his eyes slowly sprawl over my naked skin I can tell he has no self-control, he’s practically vibrating with sexual tension. Brushing the hair from my face he leans in and I suck in a deep breath as his warm weight presses against my bare chest. “When I break you, can I keep you?” he whispers in my ear. My eyes widen and my reply gets stuck in my throat. Does he want to kill me or make me his? I push the thought in the back of my head and decide to live in the present. I’ve always envisioned what my first time would be like, and every time I never thought it would be with an animal like Machete. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he stands from the cheap cot carrying me into the other room and plopping us down on the couch. My back presses into the scratchy fabric of the cushions, his weight heavy but comforting. He’s so big he’d be scary to any citizen walking by, but all I see is protection. Huh, maybe that’s why I don’t fear him. I see a protector rather than an enemy. Lifting up on his knees he lifts his shirt over his head. His chest is etched in the most intricate

ink I’ve ever seen, it’s beautiful. His chest is hard and toned like something you would see on TV and I can’t help but scratch my nails along his chest. Quickly he whips his hands down and grabs my wrists with force. “No, don’t,” he replies as if he’s in pain from my touch. My heart skips a beat, my brows furrowing from his rejection. “Why?” I whisper. He just shakes his head. “Too real,” he admits, and I nod. Taking his shirt, he wraps it around my wrists and holds them above my head, making sure I don’t touch him. It kills me inside as I want to be as close as I can to him but can’t. Reminding me I am still his prisoner, and not someone he cares about. His large palms skim down my sides, his hot, wet mouth trailing down my neck taking me from my over-thinking. It feels so good, I don’t know why I hadn’t done this sooner. A blaze of lust ignites in my chest and races down in between my legs pulsing in my core. I feel alive, dangerous, and out of control. His rough beard scratches along my skin as his

lips not kiss but softly caress against it. The burn so delicious, I rub against him like a cat in heat wanting more. He nips at my sensitive nipple, his tongue flicking just the tip causes my body to buck off the cushions. The way his teeth sink into the sensitive flesh stings, but also blossoms into an impending need only Machete can deliver. Sitting up, he unbuckles his pants. His belt buckle jingles as it’s thrown down his legs in a hostile manner. My eyes fall from his down to the V shape his torso possesses, to his impressive dick. Fear sticks in my throat. It’s like a Coke can it’s so big. So formidable I squirm from underneath him. Gently lowering himself, he cups the side of my cheek with care. Taking my eyes from his Godzilla dick to his piercing green eyes I try to remember to breathe. My heart is beating so fast I feel dizzy. I can’t take that, he’ll rip me in half! “I’ve never been with a virgin before, but I imagine this is going to hurt like hell,” he explains softly. Not caring to tell me what I want to hear, but

what I need to hear. I nod frantically, my nostrils flaring with anxiousness. He fists the base of himself, which fills his fist, and slides the large tip of his hard cock against my wetness. I tense and close my eyes. Preparing for what’s to come. “Open your fucking eyes. I want to see your pain, watch your lips part when you whimper my name, Raven,” he demands, and I obey. My eyes on his as he thrusts just the tip of himself inside of me. The burning sensation takes over my state of mind and a whelp escapes my lips. I nearly come up off the couch from the pain. Machete thumbs my bottom lip, as he watches me in astonishment. Machete’s head falls back, and he pushes his dick all the way inside me. As deep as he can go. “Machete!” I cry out, pressing my body into the couch to get away from the pain, but my tied hands come up and hook around his neck to bring him closer. I can’t decide if I’m pushing him away or pulling him closer. He growls and thrusts again, this time a little

harder than before. I swallow hard, making sure to breathe through my nose as he fills me, stretches me, and takes the little bit of innocence I have left. Lowering his head, his red hair falls in his wolfish eyes, his mouth parted in the sexiest way possible. His rough hand slides up my side and cups my right tit roughly as he rocks his hips. The stinging slowly starts to subside as pleasurable pressure builds in my lower half. My eyes roll in the back of my head, and lips caress the dip of my neck as I open up to Machete in ways I never thought I could. I never let a man near me as I was scared of what they might see if I let them get close, the things I’ve done darkening my chance at any kind of love. But Machete knows me, I am his enemy, and right now I am his lover. Turning my head to the side, I look down at his body and watch his hip muscles bulge and swirl as he fucks me into the couch. He’s heavy, smells of spice and man, and if I die tomorrow… it would be worth it. I can say that now. Machete slides his hand in between us, and

lowers it down to my sex, thumbing my clit and working me into a frenzy of pleasure. Every nerve ending in my body ignites into an inferno of release. My body goes stiff as a tingling sensation explodes in my pussy so hard I forget to breathe. I scream loudly, as my body mixes with pain and pleasure. I lunge forward and bite at Machete’s bottom lip, needing to release this sexual anguish in some fucking way. It’s too much; too good. Machete presses his fists into each side of my body, his bottom lip trapped between my teeth so tightly I taste blood. He roars, his eyes clenching shut as he shoots warm wetness into me. He looks so rough and angry but fucking in control and sexy. He slows his pace down, his chest rising and falling from the exertion. He pulls his length from my wetness, and I wince. Blood coats his cock, reminding me of what I just gave him. His eyes shoot from the blood on his dick to my eyes, something silent and primal passing between us. “Are you okay?” he asks. I nod.

He shoves himself back inside of his pants not caring about the blood and unties my hands. Using the shirt that seconds ago bound me to his mercy, he wipes the blood from my thighs and my sore pussy. “I can do that,” I insist, feeling embarrassed. “But I am,” he mouths, not looking at me but the mission at hand. Sticky cum drips from my pussy, and onto the couch. My brows furrow with unease, awkwardness. Now that the rush is gone all I feel is used and pain, but the care he’s showing me… it’s making me want to put up my walls. I feel vulnerable. I don’t like it. I can take care of myself, I have been for years. After he cleans me he gives me a soft look before disposing of the soiled shirt. As if his eyes are telling me he’s got me. To let go. Sitting up on the couch we both sit there quiet, not saying a word. What did we do? Was it a good thing? Did it mean anything? The door suddenly opens, and I tense just as Machete quickly stands and steps away from me like I’m suddenly fire.

Gatz looks at us and his face pales. Machete rubs the back of his neck, holding his shorts shut with one hand. “Zeek wants you,” Gatz tells Machete making sure not to look my way as I’m naked and flushed from just being fucked. Machete gives a curt nod, and Gatz leaves as quickly as he came. “Is he going to tell Zeek?” I ask worriedly. Machete gives me a concerned look. “Don’t worry about it,” he insists. “Don’t worry about it, how fucking stupid.” I scoff. If he tells Zeek, we could both be tied to a chair. Machete gives me a stern look, and I shut up. I go to stand, and my legs tremble. Either from the rough sex I just had or because I’m lacking basic nutrition. Sensing my weakness, Machete quickly steps over to me and grabs me, lifting me in his strong arms. The care in his actions not going unnoticed. Wrapping my hands around his neck I stare at him, curious if this changes anything between us. Will he still kill me if I don’t give him what he wants? Is he still my master or is this just a game to him? He leans down, grabbing a shirt from

his duffle bag and throws it over his shoulder. Taking me into my cell, he sets me down on the shitty mattress slowly and carefully. Our eyes catch, and he lifts his chin confidently, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. It makes me wonder what is going on in that mind of his as he stares at me with a dark look. His bottom lip is split where I bit him, and I can’t help but smile with pride. I did that, I marked him. “How do you feel?” he asks, and I look down at the blood staining my thighs. “A little sore,” I admit. He doesn’t say sorry or try to make up for it though. He just hunches down, his face in front of mine. His eyes looking right into me, I’m glued where I sit. “I will break you, Raven,” he mutters so softly I barely hear him. “Why?” I whisper. He tosses me the shirt, the smell of old leather coming off it. “Because I’m fucking keeping you,” he declares. Looking down at my hands I peek through my lashes at him. I bring nothing but darkness with me, and if his club heard him speak the words he

just did… that darkness would be a fucking apocalypse. “Nevermore.” I lift my chin, telling him it won’t happen. His club would never let us be together. Cross would never let Machete be happy. He hates the Outlaws. In the Raven poem, the raven would recite the word declaring rejection of the future, but the smirk kicking up on Machete’s face tells me he’s up for the challenge. He doesn’t say anything as he turns and shuts the door, not forgetting to lock it. But he leaves the lights on this time.

Cleaning the blood off my dick, I can’t get the hardness to go down. Raven was the tightest cunt I’ve had, it was so warm and fucking wetter than hell. The look in her eyes when she came on my cock, the way her pussy pulsed and milked me of every drop. Fucking hell, the guilt I have for crossing my brother Zeek might just be worth it. I

rub at my chest, remembering her nails clawing at it as if she couldn’t get enough. It was too much at once for me. I don’t let women touch me, but I can’t say the little bit of contact was bad. I hear commotion upstairs, so I toss the bloody towel on the floor and head upstairs to see what is going on. “I heard screaming, did you get her to say something?” Zeek asks with an excited tone, his arms crossed in front of him. I look down, shutting the door behind me, knowing exactly what he heard. Raven screaming my name as I fucked her into the couch. I didn’t know anyone was here. If he knew what I just did, he’d kill me. Guilt eats at my loyalty, but my dick pulses with temptation. I don’t know what came over me, but I couldn’t stop myself once it did. Her body was wet, her dark nipples begging for me to nip at them. When she asked me to fuck her. I was done for. “No,” I mutter. “Do you really think the mafia is going to hold to their end if we deliver Cross alive?” I change the subject. “Guess we will find out,” Zeek huffs. The door suddenly opens and Felix and Alessandra step

inside the warehouse. “You gotta be fucking kidding me?” I ask out of anger. This is what Zeek wanted me for? It was one thing to have Alessandra show up here behind his back, but for Felix to knowingly bring her here? This is club fucking business. “I’m not fucking kidding you. I need to talk to her, I need answers,” Alessandra explains in a whiny ass voice. Her brown hair is pulled up in a bun. A bright red sweater hanging loose on her small frame makes her look small and vulnerable. Or maybe that’s the savage in me noticing I could easily dominate her if I wanted to. “What is this, Felix?” I growl. “Look man, shit hasn’t been easy. She hasn’t been sleeping, eating, I think if she just… sees her locked up it will do her some good,” Felix comes to her defense. I shoot Alessandra a look, she knows Raven is locked up. She is here because she wants to talk to Raven and I wouldn’t let her before. Of course she would run to her fucking boyfriend. He’s more pussy-whipped than I thought Felix was capable of.

I inhale a large breath and rub my hand along my chin. The smell of Raven’s pussy on my fingers reminding me of what I just fucking did seconds ago. “Let her in,” Zeek demands, and my brows furrow at his tone of voice. Stepping aside, I wave my hand in the direction of the bunker, though she knows the fucking way. “Be my fucking guest, but you get ten minutes. I don’t need you fucking up my progress,” I inform, though I have had no fucking progress. Except for fucking her and betraying my brotherhood. Gripping the backpack strap around her shoulder with a tight hand, Alessandra rolls her eyes. “Whoa, what’s that?” I ask, holding my hand out to halt her. I didn’t notice the backpack before. “A peace offering,” she mutters, shoving my hand out of the way. “It’s just clothes and some food. I already checked,” Felix explains. Shaking my head, I follow her down into the bunker.

Alessandra heads straight to the metal door and slides the locks open. She takes a ragged breath as if she’s trying to calm herself before entering my pet’s den. I stand close to the door, monitoring everything as maybe Alessandra will say something I can use to break Raven. Or is she upsets my toy, I can intervene. Because after I just had her moaning my name, and give her innocence to me… there’s no way I’m letting her go. I’ve slept with plenty of women, but none like Raven. She is damaged goods as much as I am. Our fear of the past anchoring our chance of a future. Raven is brave, strong, and broken all at once. I haven’t wanted to be with anyone else since Liviana. I loved her so much I ended up killing her. I never wanted to feel that pain again. To get close to someone only to have them six feet under in the end. I’m an animal. But Raven, I want to kill and care for all at the same time. She’s my fucking pet, and I will be her master

in everything that she desires. My club will come around because Raven will fucking bleed our colors when I’m done with her.

SITTING ON THE SMALL metal-framed bed, I curl my knees to my chest for warmth. The familiar voice of Alessandra causing goose bumps to rise along my olive skin. The knot in my stomach makes me want to puke, I haven’t seen Alessandra since I attacked her. She is one of the Outlaws ol’ ladies, but she was my enemy first. Forcing myself to move, I grab the shirt Machete gave me and pull it over my head. The smell of him on my skin I can’t help but tuck my nose in the collar and inhale it. It soothes my racing heart. I am scared of Cross, but deep inside my black heart, I’m terrified of Alessandra too. After all, she was the one Cross put me up to fight when we were kids. She always kicked my ass. The door slowly opens and dark eyes of

Alessandra meet mine. I curl my fists and turn my head, memories of her punching me, pulling my hair and biting at me like a fucking animal locked in my memory as she can’t remember a fucking thing. “Raven?” she says my name softly, and I grit my teeth. Why is she here, what could she possibly want? When I kidnapped her to seek my revenge I ended up letting her go. I saw myself in that cage and couldn’t keep the cycle of Cross going. It doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten everything she’s done to me though. I’ve lost time down here, but it could only have been a week or so since I took her. She still has marks on her skin from our fight. Black eyes, busted lips. Her flip-flops slap along the hard concrete as she makes her way to me. “That’s far enough,” I clip, and she stops with round eyes. “I got you some clothes; a hot dog too. I know you liked that Coney place on the Strip.” she slides a backpack onto my bed. The smell of meat and coleslaw fills the room. My stomach growls, and I snatch the bag.

Opening the backpack. There’s a white shirt, some shorts, and a pair of gray panties, the tag still on them. Ripping the tag off the underwear I shimmy them on and then the black cotton shorts along with it. “I wasn’t sure if they would fit, but I figured you might need some clothes,” she shrugs. Settling back down on the bed, I don’t reply. “Why did you let me go?” she blurts out, finally cutting through the bullshit. Curling my knees back to my chest I look at her over my kneecaps. That is why she came here? To know that? “Because,” I mutter, playing with my fingertips. “I saw myself,” I say so softly I barely hear myself. Alessandra’s eyes fill with tears as her head falls, the truth too much I suppose. “I saw a lot of myself in you, and I wasn’t me in a long time.” Emotion fills my voice, my own eyes threatening to burn. “I wanted normal, I wanted what you had but I was too fucked up to have that chance. When Cross came for me about a year and a half ago… I

was scared and all I knew was I hated you. I wanted revenge, I wanted peace in my fucking head!” I point to my head where the memories and voices taunt me to this day. “Didn’t you have a family or anything after we were rescued?” she asks with a sympathetic voice. “Didn’t they help you through the PTSD?” “Foster care is hardly a family,” I state as a tear falls down my face. There was no love, no care, only two fucked up adults looking for an easy check. I found my parents on my own, but when I saw how happy they were, I went back to where I belong. Nowhere; hell. “I know you said you were scared of me, but I was terrified of you. All of us were. The way they called you the Raven and talked about you like you were some demon. It made me try twice as hard because I never thought I had a chance against you.” I close my eyes, thinking about how they called me Raven, how the handlers teased me. How they made me what I am. Sometimes I think what I’m really afraid of … is me.

“Tap. Tap. Tap.” The handler would slam a metal rod against each cage as they made their way to me, and I would freeze where I sat in the dirt. “I said, ‘tis some visitor tapping at my chamber door!” the handler would yell, his voice echoing through the tunnels. I rocked, my eyes filling with tears. My chest burning as I tried to breathe. “Nevermore,” I whispered. Knowing what they wanted to hear or I would be covered in darkness. “Raven?” Alessandra calls for my attention. I shake my head of the flashback, goose bumps rising up my spine from the horrid memories. She touches my arm and I tremble, gently pulling my arm away. “Memories?” she whispers as if she gets them and can relate to my pain. Pushing the tears away, I look the other way. “You know this is all Cross’s fault and you’re protecting the very man that did this to you. To us?” she points to herself. Clenching

my eyes shut, I swallow the lump of emotion stuck in my throat. Everything always narrows down to Cross. “Get out,” I seethe, pointing to the door. Needing space. “Do what?” she sasses. “I said get out!” I scream, coming up off the bed. “You kidnapped me and were going to hurt my family! You think I’m just going to turn my back on that?” She gets in my face. Having her this close reminds me of when we were kids, her eyes have never changed. Brave, and strong. The animal in me rattles its cage, wanting a do-over of our previous fights. “Why not? I forgave everything you did and let you free, do you remember that?” I tilt my head to the side. “God, you’re fucked up,” she whispers to herself. Pulling my fist back, I slam it in her eye and she responds by wrapping her arm around my neck. Just like old times, our bodies slam into survival

mode. She thinks she’s so different, but watching her snap into violence… I think not. “You’re not any better than me!” I scream. Kicking her out from under her legs she falls to her ass. Arms wrap around my middle and I’m jerked away from Alessandra, the familiar smell of Machete against my back calms me, and Felix has his hand gently around Alessandra’s neck putting her in a catatonic state. A common thing the handlers did to submit us when we were kids. Seems I’m not the only one with PTSD issues. “If you didn’t get the fancy family and fucking expensive doctors to help you forget… you’d be right here with me, Alessandra.” I point at her, reminding her how good she has it. Makes it easy to pass judgment. Zeek casually stands by the doorway with his arms crossed observing Alessandra and me like zoo animals fighting in a cage. He seems amused and it pisses me off. I’m not an animal! “You might as well kill me because I’m not giving you Cross. I’m going to kill that mother

fucker,” I bite out each word, my eyes falling on Zeek. “Raven!” Machete scolds, but I ignore him. Zeek pushes his toned body off the doorframe and steps further into the room. Lifting his chin, he looks at me with strong eyes. My own filled with tears and breathing labored I try to stay strong. He smirks. “Huh, you are breaking her…” He thumbs a tear off my cheek and my face goes stoic with his observation. Did Machete break me? I wipe at the tears, ones I hadn’t shed in such a long time I didn’t even know I was capable of the emotion. “Everyone out!” Machete barks, pointing to the door. Zeek eyeballs me, his nostrils flaring, but he eventually walks out with Felix and Alessandra in tow. Seeing Alessandra all over again reminded me of the things I’ve done in my life and how I didn’t do myself any favors going back to Cross. I was scared though and hurting. I thought taking down Alessandra and her loved ones would make my

pain vanish, but it wasn’t until I saw her in that cage that I realized my rage was directed at the wrong person. They may have broken my wings, but they forgot this bitch has claws. My legs begin to tremble and I fall to the floor, Machete’s arms still hugging me hard. “You can’t break what’s already broken, Machete,” I cry. Feeling like a broken mirror that has been tried to be placed back together with cheap glue. There are pieces missing, my imaged marred and imperfect. There is no hope for me to be right again. I was made to be bad and that is all I’m capable of. Fucking everything up and being alone with the shadows of my sins. “Watch me,” he whispers into the back of my neck, holding me tight like he is going to solve everything. Yet he’s the one keeping me captive…

Lying on my cot with the light on, the door to my cell is slightly open. It allows a cool draft to waft in here, and tones of Machete swirl in the air. It isn’t

so scary in the dark when the door is open. I shift in my sweaty spot, the shirt of Machete’s sticks to my sweaty skin, and the shorts Alessandra got me thrown about somewhere as it’s too fucking hot down here to wear them. The sound of a bat in the vents chirps keeping me awake. I love bats, there is something about them that fascinates me. It probably has something to do with when I was a child and would see them flying about in the night. They were free; as I wasn’t. “Are you awake?” I whisper to Machete, making sure my voice isn’t too loud to wake him just in case. “Yeah, whatever is making that noise is about to die in two fucking seconds,” he growls his voice exhausted. I hear him shift on the couch, tossing about. “It’s a bat,” I inform him with a small smile. “How do you know that?” “When I was imprisoned as a child there was always a small bat flying around down in the tunnels, seeking shelter from the harsh sun above. I got so excited when it would fly next to my cage,” I

tell him, remembering it like it was yesterday. I would stretch my fingers through the holes wanting to touch it, to be that bat so badly and to have the freedom to fly out of there and fly away. “I had a bat fly into my dad’s garage once when I was a kid. Dad made me get it out using a tennis racket and a pillowcase. I ended up getting bit.” I cover my mouth to keep from laughing. “I remember my mom rushing me to the hospital scared I got rabies,” Machete continues the story. “My dad was in the military and let’s just say he took his work home with him. When I got home from the hospital I got ordered two hundred pushups and to sleep in a tent that night,” he informs with an even tone, almost like he was telling another person’s story. I blink slowly, taking in his horrid story. Seems like we both had fucked up childhoods. “A tent?” I ask. “Yeah, it was a khaki colored tent that was held up with a pole in the middle. Something he got from Iraq and punished me to stay the night in whenever he saw fit. It was so cold at night, I remember

shivering so hard my bones hurt,” he explains. I know that coldness he’s talking about. It hurts to move, but it hurts to sit still too. “Where are your parents now?” I ask, curious. He’s opening up, so I want to take advantage. “My dad is gone in the military somewhere, and my mom is in a hospital,” he clips, and I suck in a breath at the finality in his voice. “My dad wanted nothing to do with me after my wife took her life. He blamed me,” he tells me softly. “My dad really liked her, thought she was good for me. So when she killed herself he didn’t even need to know why, he knew I had something to do with it, but I think it was just an excuse to run from me. I remind him a lot of my mother who he grew to hate.” The space goes quiet, and I bite my inner lip in thought. Rumor has it Machete killed his wife’s lover and she slit her wrists in reaction. The police never had proof he was responsible for either so he was released of all charges. That’s what the Outlaws are good at. Having others clean their mess up. When I was on the police force I was ordered to let ranking officers take care of any situation

dealing with the Sin City Outlaws. I wasn’t stupid, I knew that was because they were in their pockets. It intrigued me though. They are smart and powerful. That is why they get the respect they do. That and the interesting stories that have no truth or doubt about them. Mysterious. The sound of his feet against the floor, catching my attention. My breath hitching that he may come to me. Looking in the direction of the doorway I notice his hand on the light switch. I sit up on my elbows, fear in my chest. Is he going to lock me in the darkness again? Did I press him for too much personal information? “Why are you laying on the floor again?” he asks, clearly annoyed. I shift on the cold concrete, pulling my knees to my chest. You can see a sweat print from where I was laying. It looks like one of those ink blobs you see when seeing a therapist or something. “I just… I can’t sleep on the bed,” I whisper, looking anywhere but at him. I hate that I can’t be normal. Hell, even Machete can sleep on a bed I bet.

Stepping into the room he looks down at me with an intimidating look. “What?” I snap with more force than intended. “Get on the bed,” he demands, and I swallow hard. I haven’t slept on a bed since… I can’t remember when. “Why?” I ask meekly. “Do it,” he barks. With furrowed brows, I slowly move to the bed, and Machete sits down where I was laying. His back against the bed. “What are you doing?” “Proving to you that you are safe sleeping on a bed.” He looks over his shoulder. “The only boogie man in here is me, and I’ll sit right here until you fall asleep.” I twirl my hair unsure. It’s so high up, it makes me feel vulnerable just thinking about it. “I’m not asking,” he snaps, his voice not giving a fuck of my fear. Slowly I climb onto the bed and shift on my back, my arms laying at my side as I stare up at the ceiling. It’s comfortable, but I don’t like being placed on a pedestal in the darkness. You might as well put me on a fucking platter for predators.

“I never had a bed when I was taken into Cross’s care. I was used to the floor, it’s what I’m comfortable with,” I confess. He turns, looking at me with smoldering eyes before looking away. “What is your real name?” I ask so softly I barely hear myself, trying to make small talk to forget that I’m on a damn bed. “Mace Ryder,” he informs dryly. “Mace.” I let the name play on my tongue. It’s strong, sexy, and has a cuteness about it too. “So why do they call you Machete?” I’ve heard many stories. My favorite is a man at McDonald’s took Machete’s fries and wouldn’t admit to it, so he cut the man’s fingers off and put them in a fry box for him to take to the hospital. Every time I eat those fries I giggle to myself thinking about the guy taking his little red fry box to the hospital. Seems Machete has been in my head long before we met. “When I found out my wife was cheating on me with some Hollywood fuck, I lost what was left of my mind. I was going to kill them both. I was at the hardware store eyeing machetes when Zeek found

me.” He sighs heavily, that long breath extinguishing his pain. “He took me under his wing and I became a part of the family. It worked for a while, but it was said Liviana was seen at the club one night. I thought she wanted to get back together. I had hope.” He emphasized the word hope like it’s a curse, sour on his tongue. “I don’t know what my brothers saw but when I found Liviana she was with that fucking punk more in love than ever. It was like I lost her all over again and I couldn’t bear it. I went to their new house and killed him while she was out jogging. Next thing I knew, she killed herself with a letter saying ‘I gave everything to you.’” “Was the letter to you?” I ask. “I don’t know. She never gave me anything,” he grits through clenched teeth. Nibbling my inner lip, I take in the savage story he bared, it’s heartbreaking but shows how big his heart is, the devotion. “I like my version of the story better,” I mumble to myself. The version of fingers for fries. “Let me guess, the fry story?” he scoffs, and I

can’t help but giggle. God, I love that story. “Don’t tell me it’s not true, you don’t want to ruin my dreams,” I say seriously. “Dreams are nothing but a future that doesn’t come true.” “Amen,” I whisper. “Is your name really Raven?” he asks in return, the tone of his voice noting he’s done talking about himself. “Yes, I don’t remember much, but I remember my dad or maybe it was my mother, called me Raven because of my black hair.” I shrug. “Seemed fitting the way Cross and the handlers made me feel like the Raven from hell,” I whisper referring to that damn poem. “I found my parents when I got older, but I never exposed myself to them. I wasn’t their little girl anymore. They had a big white house and flowers outside. Another small kid in a flower dress was running around. If I entered that house, I would bring a hurricane of darkness behind me. Wilting their perfect life,” I explain. “So, I stayed in foster care until I was of age.” It wasn’t the best place to be, but I’d seen the

worst place I could be so it was a step up in my eyes. I still remember when I was sent to one home for a weekend while my foster parents went on vacation. The man we were staying with tried to flirt with me in a way I was not comfortable with and I broke his nose with a spatula. I got in some deep trouble with my social worker for that one. “At least I know I won’t be alone in Hell,” he mutters, and my head whips in his direction. The thought he wants me to keep him company in the throes of hell is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. “We could totally take over Hell.” I murmur proudly to myself. Lilith and the Devil sitting in a throne… He turns and clasps his large hand around my collarbone, hard eyes gluing me to where I lay. “You’re nothing like Liviana. She was down to earth and gentle.” I swallow the sudden lump in my throat, knowing there’s nothing gentle and cute about me and I’m totally okay with that. Is he?

“You’re dark and twenty shades of insane,” his voice holds amusement as if he likes me the way I am and I hate the way it makes me light up inside. Leaning close I smell the vindication on his breath, the determination on his face. “Break for me, toy,” he brushes the hair from my face softly, his voice low and rough. I swallow in his hold but say nothing. God, I want to break for him. And maybe I already am, but if so, I know deep down there’s a brick of my stubbornness left. Once I break… there will be no coming back. I will be his, and I will kill him in his sleep if he tries to leave me. I won’t handle a broken heart lightly. Madness will travel from my mind to my heart, and everyone near me will burn in a rage only a horror movie can mimic.

I’m suddenly jostled awake, the strong familiar hands of Machete biting into my skin as I’m thrown over his taut shoulder. Quickly I try and blink the

blurriness away and wake up. Music from Nine Inch Nails sings “Closer”. It’s blaring so loud in the other room I’m surprised it didn’t wake me up first. My hair falls in my eyes masking where he’s walking us to. “Where are you taking me?” I ask with a sleepy voice. I hear the sound of water running, and before I know it cold ice pelts into my skin like little daggers. I scream as I’m held under the showerhead, my clothes soaking with arctic cold water. How can something so cold burn so badly? “Where is Cross, Raven. Tell me something goddamn it,” Machete begs me to give him something, his hands holding me in place. My teeth chatter, my skin turning bright pink from the chill, and my head hurts as if an iceberg was crushed inside of it. Shifting my hair from my face I look over my shoulder at Machete’s emerald blazing eyes, pleading for me to give him the answer he seeks. He’s scared for me. Lowering my numb head, I

close my eyes, trying to focus on the question but all I can think of is how cold I am. Suddenly his body presses against my back, the warmth of him causing me to lean into him. Each of his hands presses against the tile, boxing me in. “Let me save you,” he desperately whispers in the back of my head. A cry wracks my body, as an internal scream spills from my lips from the unbearable cold. My soul splintering from the relentless hold this man has on my psyche. Being in this bunker with Machete… I never want to be saved. He hurts me so good but makes me feel like I’m worth something all at the same time. Machete growls into my neck. My screams undoing him, turning him on. His hard length pressing into my lower back telling me so. The cold water can’t even cover his desire for me. Suddenly I’m picked up, my body shivering and clinging to Machete like a magnet. He’s so warm it burns my skin, the contact to harsh. He takes me into my cell and strips me from my wet clothes. My nipples are so hard and every pore in my body is sealed shut. I sit there in a catatonic state, not sure

what to do or say. I’m frozen. My body deprived of basic function. Machete stands, unbuttoning his red and black shirt from his chest and unzipping his damp jeans. Turning he walks into the other room, his strides strong and fierce as he grabs the thick blanket off the back of the couch he sleeps on. His ass cheeks chiseled to perfection, and thick legs oddly a turnon. Stepping back in my room, he wraps us both in the blanket and lays us down on the cot. I wince from the sudden warmth of him and the blanket, it feels like lava against my sensitive skin but I don’t want to pull away from the contact. I continue to shiver as his hot breath sticks to the back of my neck. My fingers across his strong, toasty arms. I pull him closer to me, hiking my leg over his frame for more heat. My God he smells so manly, and the feel of his naked skin against mine takes me to a world of thermal desire. “Is this a game of torture and rescue?” I ask. “Because you’re a shitty prince charming.” “I’m not a boy pretending to play prince or be some fucking king,” he breathes heavily into the

back of my head. “I want to be your fucking master Raven, and I will be.” He quickly flips on top of me. The blanket hovering over us as his arms press into each side of my head. God, he’s so fucked up, yet I want his company on a desperate level. Reaching forward I cup his scruffy cheek and look into lost eyes. “You are my master. If anyone takes my life… I want it to be you,” I whisper. I feel like he’s the only one who has truly seen me, and would give a shit about if I suffer or not. His brows slice inward and his face hardens with my statement. “Would you die for me, Raven?” His tone serious. “Death is easy, living is what is hard.” He tilts his head to the side eyeing me. “So would you live for me?” “Maybe, but the rebel woman in me will never break for you.” I purse my lips defiantly. He may make me his, may even break me, but my defiant ways will always be a part of who I am. Machete slams his lips against mine with

urgency, they’re firm but soft. Controlling yet, submissive. It’s a rollercoaster I can’t make right or wrong of, but I know I want to ride over and over again. Maybe when he kills me he will kiss the last breath from my lungs until I slip into everlasting peace. “Are you warm now,” he whispers against my face, and I nod. Just wanting him to continue kissing me. Bending over the bed, he grabs his shirt off the floor and wraps it around my face concealing my sight and my senses kick into hyper drive. I smell everything and hear all. The bat chirping in the vent, the dirty water from the shower draining into the well underneath us, and the steady beat drumming in Machete’s chest. My skin is warm and back to a normal temperature. Feeling his skin against mine pleasurable and longing. Tantalizingly slow he rubs his palm between the valley of my tits as he applies light pressure, pushing my back against the bed. All I see is darkness and smell spicy old leather. One of his hands continues its descent down my

right hip before gripping me from under my thigh and hitching it up swiftly. Hot heavy breaths pant against my face as my knees begin to shake with desire. His thick length presses against my sex and my eyes widen, my nails digging into his skin to pull him further against me. “Are you sore from the other night?” he asks. I squirm getting a feeling if I can handle his massive length right now. “A little,” I shrug, but I’d do anything to have Machete erase it all. Pain or no pain, just make it disappear. He laughs deeply and tosses the blanket over his head. Teeth graze my belly button as he descends downward. Butterflies build in my stomach as I think of where he’s headed. Another first for me. He pushes my knees apart, his beard whisking against my mound and I can’t help but inhale deeply. He flicks his tongue at my clit and I clench my eyes shut at the teasing temptation. My toes curl with anticipation and my hands crawl into the mattress as if it has the release my body seeks. I

can’t see him or know what he’s doing with this damn shirt over my face but it makes it a turn on not knowing his next move. His warm, wet tongue swirls and grinds against my clit, twisting me into a hurricane of pleasure. Fingers slowly inch their way down my inner thigh and my ribs ache the closer they get to my pulsing pussy. He sucks, licks, and nibbles my sex like it’s his last meal, and finally two fingers part my lips and dive into my heat all at once. They circle, twirl, mimicking his dexterous tongue. My clit quivers and all the hairs on my body rise. Teeth press into my clit, and I gasp for air that doesn’t seem to be entering my lungs. Second by second, he applies more pressure, gifting pain and pleasure as his fingers play me into a sinful rhythm. All at once an orgasm gets lodged in my throat and I forget to breathe, my chest feeling like a sinking sand bed as I melt into a world of heat and tingles and I ignite like a million firecrackers just went off in his mouth. My head crawls to the edge of the bed as I gyrate against his face lost in a world of pleasure.

It’s so wet, warm, and feels so damn good. Coming down from a high I never experienced, he pulls his fingers from my sensitive sex and goose bumps race along my spine. I lay there continuing to pant, my lungs begging for sweet air. He gives a chaste kiss against my clit and throws the blanket from over his head. Fingers untie the shirt from around my face, and my eyes fixate on his. His beard wet from me, his eyes crazy. An arrogant smirk kicks up on his handsome face. “Wipe that smirk off your face.” I toss the shirt at him, and he chuckles and dodges it. “I can’t help it, your body responds to me in ways I can’t control. It’s… amazing,” he whispers against the skin of my right inner knee, his hands caressing my legs like he can’t stop touching me. Even with his mind fucking torture, he makes me feel like I’m the only one. “Yo brother!” Gatz yells from the other room. Machete curses under his breath and jumps out of bed. The warmth of his body leaving a rush of cold air against my body. He grabs his clothes from off

the floor and starts putting them on quickly. Machete snatches the blanket that is hanging half way off the bed and tosses it at me with hard eyes. “Cover yourself,” his tone demanding and hinted with jealousy. I pull it over myself, but as soon as Gatz walks into the bunker tension rises as his eyes fall upon us both. The smell of sex is in the air, my cheeks are flushed and my hair is a mess. Not to mention Machete’s shirt is inside out. Oh, and I’m naked under this blanket. “You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Gatz sneers, quickly turning his back to us. He runs a hand through his gelled hair, shaking his head. I look to Machete, nervous of what this means. It’s not the first time Gatz has caught us, will he tell our dirty little secret to the president of his club? Machete gives me a side-eye before walking out, shutting the door and locking it too.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Gatz punches my arm as soon as we are out of Raven’s cell. His pretty boy eyes glare at me, his hair that is normally spot-on falling in his eyes. “Getting your dick wet once I could see, but this is escalating dude. What if I had been Zeek or Felix?” he asks with arms stretched wide. He always was the drama queen of the bunch. “What about it?” I snap. “You’re getting fucking sloppy,” he mouths, and I scoff. I’m trying my hardest to get her to break, if she would tell me something maybe I could make Zeek see she’s not the enemy. That she’s helping us. His eyes drop to my mouth and he shakes his head. “Let me guess, her pussy tastes so sweet and innocent you can’t get enough,” he says

sarcastically. I roll my eyes. “Pussy doesn’t taste sweet or like fucking candy. It’s salty, wet, and warm. It’s an acquired taste that some men don’t have.” I flick an accusing brow at him. “You got something to say, brother?” Gatz places his hands on his hips. I can tell I hit a nerve. Lifting my chin, I decide to fucking say what’s been on my mind for a while. “Are you gay?” He doesn’t even flinch, he just stares back at me. I don’t really care if he is, but I feel like he feels like he needs to hide it. Why? “You can tell me, I wouldn’t say anything,” I press. I want him to trust me. Hell, he hasn’t told Zeek about Raven and I so I feel like we’ve reached that point where we can be honest. Gatz drops his head, tension heavy in his shoulders. “You know if I said yes and Zeek wanted to, he could have me banned from the club, or killed even,” he replies gravely. It’s true, a lot of clubs are old school and haven’t accepted the new age. I know Zeek pretty well, but I’m not going to

throw my brother under the bus for something that has nothing to do with the club. Gatz will come out when he’s ready. “Then don’t say anything,” I reply, not wanting to carry the burden. “Now that’s over. The club is in trouble, and we need you there,” he changes the subject. “What kind of trouble?” I ask with concern. He should have said that first. “Some of the girls saw an SUV scouting the place while everyone was at some charity event and Zeek wants everyone there to check it out now.” I forgot the charity thing was today. We auctioned off a ride with us downtown to help some kid with disabilities go to Disney Land. We try to help where we can, give back to the community that has helped us and by helping us, I mean look the other fucking way when we’re up to no good. “Mafia?” I assume. Gatz shrugs. “Not sure, but it sounds shady as fuck.” I look at the locked door where Raven is held,

nervous to leave her alone. I know our club has changed its ways, but not so long ago, if a fellow member found her they’d have her way with her. “Don’t worry, I have a good prospect watching out. He’s trustworthy,” he reassures. It’s probably Bishop, he’s a kid that was in a bad way on the streets. We took him in and he’s where he belongs, he has outlaw in his blood. “I’m sure it’s nothing and you can get back to dungeon and dragons with your bitch,” he chuckles, but it’s not funny. Looking down I realize I just thought about her well-being before my club’s. What the fuck is wrong with me? Flicking my gaze to the cell door I chalk it up to me just being worried of her escaping because I do worry about it. A lot. She’s my toy, my pet, and it’s my responsibility to keep a close eye on her. Riding into the city, I follow behind Gatz. I’m not sure what is going on at the club, but it wouldn’t surprise me if the fucking mafia is out headhunting for another one of our girls. Riding into the small courtyard of the club, I set

my feet on the pavement and back my bike into its place next to Gatz. Turning the motor off I set my helmet on the handlebars. It’s a skid lid, so if I have an accident whatever sorry son of a bitch gets stuck with cleaning up my remains can scoop my brains up with my helmet and call it a fucking day. Still, damn thing feels like it weighs twenty pounds in this heat. “Do you want to buy one?” A man in a trench coat suddenly appears from the dark. Out of instinct, I grab my machete ready to slam it in someone’s throat. The man steps into the light and I find he’s of no threat. Just an old timer looking to make a quick buck. There are tons of them on this damn Strip. I wish our club was located somewhere else because of it. “Back the fuck off!” Gatz barks, standing from his bike he shoves the panhandler in the shoulder and the man drops his goods in a panic. My eyes fall on a particular necklace that dangles to the side of the others that scattered about the asphalt. “Wait, how much for that one?” I point to the one that looks like a bat. Gatz raises a brow, halting

his shoving the old man. “Fifty?” The man shrugs, looking at Gatz in question. Opening my wallet, I grab the cash and hand it to him. Gatz bends down and snatches the necklace off the ground inspecting it. “This ain’t no handmade shit. You steal this?” he flicks a brow at the seller. The man looks down at his fifty bucks. “Doesn’t matter, it’s yours now.” He lifts his chin, colorless eyes locking with mine. You can tell he’s had a hard life and the wrinkles around his face reflects that. “Get!” Gatz jeers toward the man, and he takes off running. Gatz shakes his head and drops the necklace into my palm. Pulling it closer I look at it. The charm is a bat clinging to a black shiny pearl. It reminds me of Raven when she talked about the bats. She had excitement in her voice, it made me smile. “What the hell would you want that for?” He looks at me with a heated stare, and I shoot him one back. The tension building between us, he already knows the answer.

I leave nothing to coincidence or fate, but after Raven just told me her story about bats and this man appeared from nowhere with one, I couldn’t resist. Maybe it will come in handy, who knows. “Let’s go,” Gatz mutters under his breath. Sliding the necklace into my pocket, I follow him to the club. Once inside, the familiar smell of smoke, perfume from the girls, and beer reminds me of home. God, I miss being here. Zeek is sitting at the bar nursing a beer with the rest of the brothers when he spots me. I head toward him and tell Tinker, one of our girls to get me a shot of whiskey. We call her Tinker because she looks just like fucking Tinker Bell. Tall, pale, and blonde short hair. “So what’s going on?” I ask, looking around the club that doesn’t seem to be in any kind of distress to me. “I don’t know, just got here myself,” Zeek informs, belching before sliding the empty beer bottle across the bar. “Dolly,” Zeek calls over his shoulder. She’s the main ass candy around our club. You can fuck her

and then get back to breaking the law. She’ll also fuck brothers from surrounding clubs if she think’s she’ll find her prince charming to whisk her to the top of any MC club. Maybe if she does less fucking and more of that self-respect thing, she’d have better luck. She’s beautiful and smart, just too easy for my taste. She struts over in black stripper heels and short leather shorts. Her red top tied behind her neck. “Hey baby,” she coos, rubbing her long red nails down Zeek’s arm. “What did you see exactly?” Zeek pulls his arms from her grip, eyeing her with hard eyes. They used to fuck regularly, but then Zeek fell in love with a fucking sheriff and that changed his perspective on getting laid. Fucking taboo pussy seems to be a common thing amongst us outlaws. “Well, there was a black car out back and some guy wearing a suit jumped in the back seat and they sped off.” She gives a sultry shrug. “It was weird.” “Was the guy in the club?” I ask, trying to dig more info than that shitty tell all. “I don’t know, maybe.” She picks at her nails,

bored. “If they did they had to come in from the back,” she points her finger over her shoulder before her lusty eyes fall back on Zeek. He turns looking bored and she shifts her gaze to Gatz. “You want a massage?” she asks him. He raises a brow, rubbing his neck anxiously. I would have never noticed his unease before, but now that I know he’s gay… this is just fucking funny. “Yeah, Gatz, you want a happy ending? You can go get your dick wet before we inspect the clubhouse for head hunters,” I tease. “Raincheck babe,” Gatz pats Dolly’s hand gently before side eyeing me as he walks past. I sigh, smiling at Dolly. “I think it’s because he still has crabs,” I shrug before following Gatz. He looks over his shoulder with an angry look. Oh, fucking with him is going to be so much fun. “What, that should keep pussy away from you for at least a few days. You should thank me,” I laugh, but he doesn’t see the humor. “I’m going to take a piss, tell me if you see something,” Gatz says stepping inside the hall bathroom.

I turn the hall light on, but it doesn’t do much in the way of light. It’s one fucking light down a stretch of hallway. Half the time it doesn’t even want to work. Heading to the back door, a red light flashes on the floor catches my attention. Bending down I eye it. My heart skips a beat. It’s a fucking homemade bomb. A paint can with wire around it and what looks like parts of a cell phone. “EVERYONE OUT!” I roar, turning I push and jerk people out of the hallway. Zeek looks at me from the bar with a concerned look. “Bomb!” I inform him, running toward the front door. I stop, remembering Gatz in the bathroom. I turn to go get him when suddenly Felix grabs me by the cut stopping me. “Come on, brother!” He jerks me in the way of the door. “Fucking let me go, I have to get Gatz!” I resist, pulling from his grip. Like a firecracker being held in someone’s hand the bomb goes off and debris flies everywhere. The pressure throws me and Felix back, farther away from Gatz. The boom so loud it makes my ears ring

and my head ache. Wood splinters and slices through the air as our club is blown to bits. Screaming in my ears, I ignore my own pain and throw parts of flooring and ceiling off my body. “GATZ!” I yell with a trembling voice. Coughing, I head toward the bathroom where Gatz was. My feet stumble on ceiling and wires that have crumbled to the floor. My hands trying to grab onto walls that were once there, but are now blown out. Water sprays from the ceiling, and a fire burns brightly from the left as I find Gatz in what’s left of the bathroom. He’s on the floor with a metal beam stuck into his abdomen, his shirt and surrounding area soaked with dark blood. “Brother!” I cry out, falling to my knees. I crawl to his side, nails scratching against my hands and knees as I make my way to him. His face is pale, lost eyes looking at me to save him. “Help!” I scream for someone; anyone. I grab the beam with both hands and try and lift it, my teeth clenching as I pull with every fucking muscle I have in my body. It’s no good, it’s way too heavy. He coughs and blood dribbles from his lips, and

out of his nose, his eyes wide and scared. Moving away from the beam I make my way back to his side and clasp his hand tightly. “You’re going to be fine, just hang in there,” I whisper. “Someone is coming.” Pulling his hand free of mine, he pulls his leather cut open with what little strength he has left. His bloody hand shaking, he takes out an envelope and hands it to me. Why the fuck is he handing me this? Then I realize he thinks he is going to die. “No, no you’re going to make it out of this,” I reassure, and the look on his face tells me he knows better. As if death is whispering in his ear already, and he’d better make every breath count. Zeek flies into the room slipping and falling on debris that has crashed onto the floor. “Call an ambulance!” I choke on emotion. Zeek shakes his head, slowly stepping into what is left of the room. “It’s too late brother,” Zeek replies softly, hunching down next to me. My eyes fall to Gatz, who has a lifeless look in his eyes. “No,” I growl, not ready to let him go.

I shake him, call his name, but get nothing in return. He’s gone. I lost my brother. It reminds me of what can really be gone in the matter of seconds. “His fight is over,” Zeek whispers with thick emotion in his voice. Clenching his cut in my hand an emotional howl rips up my throat as tears fill my eyes. Someone came at my club, and they will pay for this. They will fucking die. Gatz is one of the brothers I was closest too, and losing him digs up old wounds with my ex-wife’s death. “EMT, out of the way!” A bossy blonde woman and a smaller man enter the room falling to Gatz side. Zeek and I stand, trying to get out of their way. I stall, curious what they will do. Can they bring him back? “No pulse,” the blonde states, her fingers on Gatz’s neck checking for a pulse. “Yeah, he’s done,” the man replies, observing the beam in his body. “Time of death, eight-forty,” the blonde calls it, and the finality hits me in my chest like another bomb just went off.

My head hangs, the pain in my chest making it hard for me to breath. “Come on,” Zeek encourages, patting my back. I pinch my brows with my fingers, trying to push back the tears. He was only twenty-three years old, he still had so much life to live and it was just violently ripped from him. Stepping over the wreckage I suddenly need air, the smoke and dust making my lungs burn. I want someone’s blood for this. The thirst insatiable, and fury an urgency that has me grinding my teeth. Outside I see my fellow brothers looking at what is left of our club with shock, but what catches my eye next makes my heart stop beating altogether. Just across the street where an SUV is parked stands a man in a suit, a cigar in his hand. He gives a jut of his chin, a wolfish smile on his face and then it hits me who the fuck it is. “CROSS!” I yell so loud and hostile the vessels in my forehead throb. He gets into an SUV and they race out of the parking lot. I turn to find my bike, but Zeek grabs hold of me. “Think about this for a minute, brother!” he

hollers in my face. I’m so flustered, so angry I can’t think about anything but going after that motherfucker and killing him. To fuck with bringing him alive to the mafia. Felix coughs, stepping up next to me. “Was that him, was that fucking Cross?” he asks holding his side in pain. “He’s here, he did this!” I seethe, shrugging Zeek’s hold off me. Why are we still standing here, we need to go after him. “Should we go after him?” Mac asks, blood dripping from his head from a piece of glass. Zeek gives me a look, before running his hand over his dusty hair. “Trust me I want to, but it’s a fucking trap. I bet it’s because he knows we have Raven and is retaliating,” Zeek suggests. “Or he knows about our deal with the mafia,” Felix suggests. “Fuck that, I say we go after him now!” Aggression, rage, and impulse fueling my decision. “That’s what he wants,” Zeek states calmly, his head lowered to where his dark hair falls in his

eyes. “We would be riding right into his hands, Machete, getting more of us killed. We gotta do this smart.” I turn, wanting to scream, break something or someone. The sound of a saw echoes through the club as they cut away the beam from Gatz and it takes everything I have to keep from falling to the ground. I’m a curse, anyone I get close to… dies. Running my hand over my face I watch the EMT’s enter the club with a stretcher in slow motion. Everything goes silent, and I feel like I’m sinking where I stand as they enter the wreckage. The Sin City Outlaws all stand in a line as the stretcher is pulled out of the club, our loyal brother lifeless and gone under that bloody white sheet making it hard for me to breathe. Lowering my head, I hold back my emotion, and promise to the gods, Cross will die for this. Adrenaline courses through my veins just as deep as my loyalty for Gatz. Turning I look at my bike, anger boiling deep. Raven will fucking tell me where Cross is.

TONIGHT.

SITTING ON THE COT I sing “Believer” by Imagine Dragons, lost in my own little dark world. That is one thing I do like, singing. Music tells what I’m feeling. Gives me the words I can’t express myself. I’ve been in here for what feels like hours, not a person to be seen or heard. I wonder where Machete is? I hear the door in the main room slam open violently and what sounds like tables over turning. I stop my singing and begin to breathe heavily with worry. My nostrils flare and my eyes round. Something is wrong. The locks are quickly slid opened and the door is kicked open. I slink against the wall, my hands rolled into fists.

Machete stands in the doorway like a madman. His head is lowered with bloodshot eyes, his arms bowed outward and fists coiled tight. He glares at me like he wants to snap me in two. Swallowing hard, I straighten my spine. “What?” I ask with a tilted head. Something happened, something bad. My eyes fall to the blood on his shirt and my breath hitches in my throat. He stomps into the room and lunges for me. His hand tangling in my hair until strands snap and pull from my scalp. I try to claw at his hands, but it doesn’t faze him. Roughly he pulls me off the bed and shoves me up against the wall, his breath feathering across my lips. “Where is Cross, tell me now,” he demands with an eerily calm voice. I furrow my brows. “Did Cross do something?” Machete roars like a wounded animal. Bending down, he grabs me by the thighs and throws me over his shoulder roughly. My body slamming against his hard shoulder nearly taking the breath from my lungs. “What are you doing!” I yell hysterically. His

touch is cold and hard. He stomps through the bunker and up the stairs, slamming open a door so hard it sounds like it comes off the hinges. My heart skips a beat as I notice he’s taking me through a warehouse. “Machete, talk to me. What happened?” I implore him to tell me what is going on, but I get nothing in return. His body is hot to the touch, sweaty even. His breathing labored, and face hard as he stomps through the dark building. All I see is the ground and a bunch of wooden boxes in passing before the smell of fresh air wafts around me. I push myself up and try to see where I am, but Machete drops me to the ground. Fresh dirt bites into my knees as I realize I’m outside on Nevada fresh soil. Wind blows my hair around my face and I close my eyes to take it all in. Is he letting me go? “Take me to him. Right now!” His voice angry and violent, my eyes snap open. He points off into the desert, his eyes glossy with emotion. I look around, noticing nothing but dark desert around the warehouse. Stars so bright above me you can’t help but get lost in their majestic burn. I

have no idea where I am let alone taking Machete anywhere. A hot wave crashes inside my chest realizing I’m literally in the middle of nowhere and the only person that might be on my side is losing his shit. He’s hostile and clearly about to take it out on me if I don’t give him something and now. I lower my head, my chest constricting with the confession about to pour from my soul. “I, I don’t know where he is,” I finally admit, and Machete’s face goes stoic. I shake my head, looking down at the dirt. “He always came to me Machete, I don’t know where Cross is.” Now he knows I don’t know where Cross is, and if The Outlaws want to kill me… at least Machete will be the one taking my life. He roars, his head tilted back as he screams to the gods above. He’s the most hostile I’ve ever seen him. His face is red, the vessels in his neck bulging with raw emotion as he hollers his pain into the night. My brows furrow as I openly stare at him. He’s hurting. Slowly I crawl over to his left leg and embrace it tightly. My arms snaking up his thigh, and my ass sitting on his boot I look up at my

master wanting so bad to take his pain away. “Tell me you’re lying, Raven,” he snaps hatefully. I look down at his dusty boot, wishing I were lying. I’d give anything to know exactly where Cross is. “I don’t know where he fucking is,” I repeat. He reaches out and I slap his hand away out of instinct. His violent demeanor making me defensive. His forehead wrinkles and he growls before lunging at me. Grasping me by the arm he tosses me over his shoulder like a disobedient child. I fight him, not making it easy. My elbow slams into his back and my teeth sinking into his shoulder, but it doesn’t slow him down any. The smell of fresh air gone and mildew back as we return to the bunker. I kick him in the groin and he drops me to the ground. My knees biting into the unforgiving floor. Looking up at him with heated eyes I try and catch my breath. “Get up,” he demands, the tone of his voice not to be messed with. Slowly I stand, and he quickly grabs my wrists and pushes my body up against the wall. My eyes fall to his mouth, his hot breath

mixing with my own. His lips brush against mine and out of instinct I chase his, wanting the contact. He kisses me once, twice, and finally slips his tongue into my mouth. It’s rough, hard, and full of madness. He grips my face kissing me like I’m the remedy to his pain. “He killed him,” Machete mutters against my mouth in almost a whimper. “Cross killed Gatz,” he clarifies. “He blew up our club and killed my brother! Tell me where he is so I can rip that motherfucker apart!” he begs, his face flustered red and sweaty. “He killed Gatz?” I ask with disbelief. His hands on my wrists he gives them one tight jerk before pulling me away from the wall and onto the small cot. I breathe through my nose, hurt weaves through my chest that Cross took Gatz’s life. He’s a fucking reaper and a swift one at that. He takes families and pulls them apart. I also can’t help but feel responsible. If only I knew where Cross was, we could end the chaos that he paints across the city. Gatz was actually nice to me, treated me like a

human rather than an animal. Why did he have to be the one to die? Machete exits the room and comes back with zip ties and some kind of bar. My eyes widen to the size of saucers. Is he going to spank me with that? Tie me to it? I try and buck against his hold, but each of my hands are suddenly zip tied to the cot and my ankles are jerked taut, straightening my legs. I try to look over my shoulder but I have no idea what he’s doing. Each ankle is attached to a cold bar that spreads my legs apart, I am completely helpless and immobile. Taking the machete from his side he slices through my clothes, leaving them to rags. My body hums with excitement, but my heart skips a beat in fear. This is the scariest he’s been since I’ve been down here. Machete slides onto the bed, his knees in between mine. I can’t close my legs as the fucking spreader bar keeps mine apart. “Why should I believe you?” he whispers into the back of my head. The smell of smoke and

leather strong. “You already do or you would have killed me,” I reply arrogantly, but I don’t really believe that. “You’re so sure?” He jerks my head by my hair and I wince. Blowing the hair from my eyes I watch him disappear into the other room and return with a wooden paddle in his one hand. It looks to be stained with blood from others before me, and my stomach suddenly drops. Standing before me he slaps the paddle into his other hand, his eyes hooded and looking down at me with wild eyes. Gripping my ass cheek with one hand, I notice a tear slip down his cheek as he raises his hand back as far as it can and strikes my ass with the paddle. White blinding heat bites into my lower half and I clench my eyes as the burn races up my back and my nipples pebble. It hurts, way more than the crop. I can tell he’s hurting, angry, and using me as an outlet. He rubs at the soreness, his fingers a fucking remedy and aphrodisiac. He strikes me again, and my mouth parts from

the pain, but my body arching into the air for his soothing touch after the hit. Just as expected, he rubs at the burn and I mewl in response. God, it feels so good and painful at the same time. “I’m sorry he hurt you,” I cry out after the next strike, and he stalls with his hand raised in the air. His chest rising and falling rapidly. His hand falls, and I hear him sniffle and a tear falls against my back, tickling as it slides down my side. I feel so much hurt and loss in that one lonely tear, more than I’ve experienced in my whole life. I’m right, he’s hurting. Someone pulled the mask from my beast and hurt him. He lifts his chin, his formidable stance back in place. My fucking beast, back in place. “Do it,” I grind out, knowing what my master needs. He strikes me again and red goose bumps slip across my skin. I open my mouth to respond, and I’m slapped again and again. Each lick taking the words, cries, and whimpers right from my mouth. My pussy clenches with desire and my body aches from the pain. Shoving my face into the loose

blanket I bite my bottom lip and scream. Endorphins firing off at every nerve ending from the pain I can’t help but moan. I love it when he spanks me. It hurts so good. It makes my body come alive in ways I never knew it could. “You like that?” his voice husky. I can’t verbally respond I’m so wound up, so I just nod. I’m practically dripping wet between my legs, but my skin hurts to the point breathing is a chore. I want him to stop and keep going all at the same time. “I lost a brother tonight and can’t do shit about it,” he confesses, his voice scratchy but rough. My sex pulsing with desire I can’t help myself, I push my ass against his groin. “Let me make you feel good?” I whisper lustfully, offering the only remedy I can for his broken heart. A feral growl erupts from my master, his hand sliding under my belly as he hoists my ass into the air in one swift move. “That’s my girl,” he whispers.

Pulling her ass into me, I shove my jeans down to my knees and fist my cock. Cum drips from the tip right onto her red ass, and I can’t help myself, I raise my hand and slap her backside. The spanking tonight was nothing like the crop, tonight was full of respect, control, and I admit… passion. She moans, her fingers clawing into the sheets. My balls squeeze hearing her pain, my own pain too hard to bear at this moment. Spreading her ass cheeks apart I look upon her swollen pink pussy, it drips for me, ready for me. Digging my fingers into her skin I slam myself into her hot tight cunt. My dick drowning in her wetness as it goes as deep as I can. “Machete!” she cries out in a realm of pain and pleasure. I thrust in and out of her, her pussy a vise around my veiny cock. I give her ass another slap, the fat on her butt cheeks jiggling from the force. Sitting up on my knees, my head falls back on my

shoulders and drive in and out of her, chasing the little bit of pleasure I need to keep me sane right now. To keep me from finding Cross and tearing him apart. Reaching down I fist her hair, pulling her head back as far as it will go with her body restrained. Her pussy clenches around me, telling me she’s close so I speed my thrusting up. Her wetness so slick it lubricates my dick to the point it’s practically suffocating. My ass clenches and dick twitches as warm pressure builds. Every nerve end of my body becomes numb except my cock. I feel all over her as I cum so hard inside of her I can’t help the moan that rips through my chest. I tense as her little pussy milks me of every drop, my cock vibrating with pleasure I have to thrust one more time as it’s so fucking good. She whimpers, her body going rigid as she’s about to cum and I pull from her, depriving her of her climax. Her body rises and falls from panting and she looks over her shoulder at me with a grimace. “This whole time you didn’t know where Cross

was, and you never told me? Only good girls get to come on my dick, baby,” I slap her ass one last time before standing from the bed. “You’re kidding?” she asks with flushed cheeks. Pushing myself back into my jeans, I step off the bed ignoring her. Looking back at Raven she is absolutely beautiful, and furious. Long legs spread eagle and lost dark eyes hooked directly on me. I’ve never met someone with as dark as eyes as hers, and I can’t seem to look away when she looks at me with that puppy dog look either. Needing some time to myself, I leave her like that and shut the door. In the dark with my cum dripping out of her cunt, tied to the cot as my prisoner. “Machete!” she screams at me, and the sound is fucking bliss to the pain in my chest. I fucking love it.

MISERY FILLS MY CHEST as the tide of loss overwhelms me. Rubbing my face, I smell Raven on my fingers, and I can’t help but close my eyes and take her in. The little bit of her soothing my loss. I want to go in there and hold her to my chest, tell her everything I knew about Gatz but at the same time, I want to wring her little fucking neck for not telling me all along she didn’t know where Cross was. We could have been looking for him instead of wasting our time on her. Then again I wouldn’t be this close to her without having the time I’ve had with her. Plopping down on the couch the sound of paper crinkles in my cut, catching my attention. Pulling it open I spot the envelope with my bloody fingerprints on the edge. The one Gatz gave me before he died.

My heart pounds as I pull it out. Looking it over there is a name written elegantly on the front. Kane. It sounds familiar, but I can’t put a finger on it. Biting my bottom lip, I have to know who the fuck Kane is, otherwise how the hell do I get it to them. Kane, Love is not kind, and it surely isn’t fucking fair. But what the hell is when it comes to our way of life? Sinners make their own rules and they die by them too. If you’re reading this, it means I’m dead. Hopefully in a blaze of glory with my middle finger held high as the reaper takes me from this fucked up world. If you’re reading this it means my club doesn’t know about us yet, and neither does yours. The Sin City Outlaws and The Devil’s Dust would never

understand us. What we have, came about quickly and I still can’t decipher how it fucking happened. I know you told your brothers that Simone was your sister, and I am not angry about it as I haven’t been honest with my brothers either. That night we spent together was amazing, and fucking wild. I wasn’t expecting a child to come out of it, but it did. Take care of our kid. Getting Simone pregnant was the best thing we could have done together and I have no regrets. Don’t let our son or daughter grow up afraid to be who she or he is like we were. I will always be watching over you guys. PS. Make sure I look good in my coffin. -Gatz

A warm tear slips between my lips and I quickly wipe at it not realizing I’d shed it. It pisses me off that he had to hide this shit. Zeek wouldn’t care, surely. He has a kid? Why would he keep that from us? Getting up, I decide to fucking out this shit once and for all. The club needs to know, and we need to do right by Gatz. My club will stand behind him, and if they don’t… fuck them. I will fight his battle and I will pull Cross’s spine out with my bare fucking hands. My brother will not be disrespected by his choice of fuck buddies. He deserves way more than that. I stop and look at the door that holds Raven. I can’t leave her like that, what if someone finds her. It’ll be my ass. Unlocking the door, I head inside and find Raven fast asleep. Brushing her hair from her face I pull my machete from my side and cut her wrist free. Trailing a finger over her back I notice the marks from the crop are fading. I continue my fingers descent down over her pink ass I undo her legs from the spreader bar. She groans in her sleep

and turns on her side. She’s so fucking perfect, I hate it. Grabbing the blanket that slipped off the cot. I toss it over her body and leave the room. I’ll make it up to her later when my head’s on straight. Heading upstairs, Zeek and the boys are pushing wooden boxes of bullets together. Clearing a space in the middle of the warehouse. Are we getting more bullets in or something? “What the fuck are you doing?” “Relocating… for now,” Felix informs with a half ass shrug. “What the hell does that mean?” “Means we are bringing everyone here until the club is rebuilt and we’re taking Raven to the city,” Mac explains pushing a trashcan to a corner. The club was my home, and without it, I have nowhere to go. There are a lot of us like that. Fucking Cross. Rubbing the back of my neck anxiously, I watch Dolly, and some other girls strut their highend asses into the warehouse carrying various boxes and shit. The garage door opens and some prospects carry in a torn up couch. Everyone has something in common, their faces are drawn, and

the air is filled with a solemn tide. Gatz was everyone’s friend and won’t be easily forgotten. “I need to show you something,” I mutter to Zeek with more emotion than I intended. Zeek stalls, his forehead sweating as he looks at me with a concerned look. My voice alone telling him I need his attention and now. “What?” Slowly I pull the envelope out and hand it over to my president. An eyebrow arches as he snatches it from me. Taking the letter out he reads over it. An unknown look crosses his face, his palm rubbing his chin as his eyes ping-pong across the page as he reads it. “Why the fuck didn’t he just say something?” Zeek asks with anger and hurt. “I wouldn’t have cared!” Zeek roars, kicking a box so hard bullets fly along the floor. Mac grabs the letter from Zeek and reads it, Felix hovering over his shoulder. Zeek paces, his hands behind his head and eyes closed. “I don’t fully understand the letter, but his lover

or partner is part of the Devil’s Dust,” I inform, and Felix gives me a look. Felix has a brother, a real brother that rides in the Devil’s Dust. That’s how Felix and Kane must have met. I don’t know who the sister is though. “I met this chick,” Felix mutters, flicking the paper. “On a run together, but she didn’t have a kid or anything with her.” “We will deliver this to Kane together, but first we need to transfer Raven and get her away from my club members,” Zeek informs through gritted teeth, his finger pointing right at me. He’s right, keeping Raven here puts the target here. Right where everyone is. “Did you check and make sure Jillian and the kids were okay?” Mac asks. Jillian is his ol’ lady who just had twins. Cross was after them originally, but now that we hid them he’s after something else. “I’ll go get her,” I offer. “I’ll help,” Mac states. Stepping away from the boys I pull the bat necklace out from my jeans pocket. Its wings wrapped around the dark pearl. It’s pretty awesome looking.

“Can you put a GPS on this?” Mac takes it from my hand, before eyeing me suspiciously. He knows I wouldn’t wear it, and the only chick I’ve been around is Raven. He’s onto me. “Cross knows we have her, I think it’s a good idea if we can keep track just in case something happens.” I don’t tell him how I want to be able to track her so if Cross does happen to take her… I can retrieve her for myself. I lower my head ashamed I have feelings for an enemy of the club. “Good idea! Hopefully Cross does show his face. Maybe we will get lucky and he’ll kill Raven and himself.” Mac nods, taking the necklace and running off to do his magic. My nostrils flare thinking about Cross even laying a finger on Raven. I pray to God he doesn’t intervene with us transferring her because who knows how I’ll react and my dirty little secret will be revealed.

THE LOCKS TO THE door creak open and it’s slowly opened. Machete walks in, his face drawn and shoulders tense. His black shirt taut against his strong chest and tattooed fingers flexing. He doesn’t look angry like the last time I saw him, but his face is wrinkled with concern. My body is so wound up, deprived of its release just the sight of him has me ready to rub my clit onto the mattress for relief. If anything has been torturous down here, it was that. “We’re moving you,” he informs gravely, and I still. “What do you mean?” I ask in a sleepy daze, sitting up. My backside is warm from the spanking, and when I move my thighs just right I can feel where Machete’s been.

“Get dressed,” he orders, tossing me a shirt of his. Climbing out of bed, I notice I’m not bound to the bed anymore and wonder when Machete let me free. Slinking off the bed I grab the stray shirt, and the pair of shorts Alessandra gifted me and put them on. My panties and other shirt are ripped from Machete cutting them. I hear another man’s voice and I glance over my shoulder to see who it is as I pull the soft shirt quickly over my bare breasts. It’s Mac and he’s talking to Machete in a hushed tone. Hairs on the back of my next stand, not liking that they’re whispering. Did Gatz say something about Machete and I before he was killed? Machete walks in the room after I’m fully dressed, his left hand rubbing his forehead in a worried manner. He notices me watching him and holds his hand out. “I uh, I got you something.” He presents with hesitation a necklace in his callused palm. I clutch my chest glancing over the beautiful silver bat clinging to a dark pearl. My eyes race to his, my

heart pounding in my chest to lengths I feel like I might pass out. “It amazing, Machete,” I whisper not wanting Mac to hear us. He twirls his finger wanting to put it on me and I turn faster than I intend, my eagerness overpowering my head. Great, I’m a gooey mess. He slides the necklace over my collarbone and links it in the back. My hand shoots up, my fingers sliding over the smooth pearl. I clench my eyes shut, I won’t cry. “You like it?” he whispers in the back of my neck. I nod, trying to keep my strength. “Good, don’t fucking take it off. Do you understand me?” He cups the nape of my neck with force, and my body comes alive. I melt into his strong hold wanting so bad to slam that door shut and show him just how much I like it. “Where are you taking me?” I ask over my shoulder. “Somewhere safe,” he replies. “You got the bitch?” Zeek’s voice booms from the other room and both Machete and I tense. He

really does hate me. “She’s ready,” Machete informs, backing away from me and my fingers stretch wanting to touch him one last time. My body rushes with a cold void as Zeek’s dark eyes set on mine. I lift my chin and inhale a steady breath. Zeek struts into my space, something black clutched in his hand. The vindictive look on his face making my killer instincts slip back into place. “Nighty night,” Zeek chuckles, covering my head with a black pillowcase. I kick and swing my fist, making contact with someone. “Cunt!” Zeek groans with pain. Guess I got lucky with that hit. Machete’s arms wrap around me. “Stop!” he orders, the silent message in his voice begging me to cooperate. Breathing hard beneath the pillowcase, I stand straight and calm down. My harsh breathing blowing my hair into my eyes. “At least someone can control that crazy bitch,” Zeek snarls. He hates me, but what he

doesn’t understand is he needs me. He just doesn’t know it yet. Asshole.

My hand on Raven’s elbow, I escort her through the back of the warehouse so nobody can see her. Who knows how everyone will react seeing her, they all think she’s the enemy. She is, but not to me. She had beef with Alessandra and was tormented by Cross to the point she was blind of her actions. Even our club has been under the intimidation of Cross and it wasn’t easy getting out from under his shadow’s. I find her actions justifiable. Her skin is warm in my hold, and I can’t help the circling of my thumb on the inside of her arm to silently tell her I got her. Giving her that necklace was not as easy as I thought it would be. I’ve never given a woman jewelry. My first wife picked her ring out in a pawnshop, I’m not the romantic type.

Mac opens the SUV door, and I slide Raven into the back seat before getting in myself. Zeek jumps in the passenger side, and Felix is driving. The whole crew is escorting Raven to the city. Zeek lights a cigarette just as the car starts and Mac slides in on the other side of Raven, boxing her in. She has a black pillowcase over her face, and if I didn’t know her I’d say she wasn’t scared. But the tendons taut in her neck tell me she’s terrified. “Let’s get this over with,” Zeek says expelling a cloud of smoke into the cab. Pulling out of the parking lot it’s dark outside. The stars are bright and there isn’t a lick of fucking cool air anywhere. “Turn the fucking air conditioner on, man,” Mac whines, grabbing at his crotch uncomfortably. “Nah, it feels good,” Zeek states, his hair gently blowing from the little wind coming through the window. Driving the dirt road, you can see all the signs from the Strip of Vegas off in the distance. Where everyone around the world comes to let loose and

explore their inner demons. Everyone has a seed of decay growing in their hearts. Mine just surfaces more than others. Out of nowhere, bright lights shine through my window as a truck drives at us full force. I don’t even have time to brace myself before it wrecks into us. The SUV rolls and Raven screams underneath her hood as we tumble about in the cab. My head slams against the seat in front of me, busting my lip before finally we rock to a stop. The SUV upside down. My ears are ringing, and there’s dust and glass everywhere. Coughing, I look around to make sure everyone is okay, the thick dust wafting around us making it hard. Raven’s hood is off and she’s coughing with a panicked look on her face. Zeek and Felix are moaning, and Mac is fucking missing from his seat. Black boots step up to the upside down window and arms reach in grabbing about. Raven screams, trying to smack at the hands, and suddenly she’s pulled over the top of me. I try to grab for her, but she slips through my fingers. The look on her face

in passing one of terror, one I tried to ingrain on her pretty little face since the day she was given to me. She’s jerked out of the window, and I quickly climb out after her only to have a gun pressed into my temple as soon as I stand. “Don’t think about it biker trash.” A rough voice threatens. Looking out of the side of my eye a short stubby man holds a pistol to my head. He’s got track pants on and a white shirt, but the way he’s holding his weapon to my head sideways tells me he’s a fucking amateur. I strike my elbow it into the crook of his arm and head-butt him. Warmth spreads across my forehead from the impact, but I shake it away. I need to get to Raven. Raven stands there in a catatonic state, the side of her head bleeding and her black hair sticking to it. She looks fucking terrified, and it makes me sick to my stomach to see her like that. Only I can scare her and it be ok. Reaching for her I grab her and pull her back to the front of my chest and aim the gun at the man who seconds before was aiming at me. “I got you,” I whisper into the back of her head,

and she nods. Out of the corner of my eye, Mac is hauled up off the ground from where he was thrown from the car, and another goon wearing track pants has a gun pressed to his head. Fuck! “Let her go, or I’ll shoot him right in the head!” The man with gold teeth and a black ponytail states. Mac has his hands up, his eyes round as he looks at me to save his life. I have to pick, Raven or my brother. “Fucking let her go, man,” Zeek orders from behind me, he’s hunched over the flipped car his cheek bleeding and face covered in dirt. My grip tightens on Raven, my eyes clenching shut with the indecision. What if they kill her because they think she told us their laundry? “Well, well, well,” the familiar voice of Cross sounds as he exits a polished newer model SUV parked to the side of the chaos. I didn’t even notice it from all the excitement. “Cross,” I grit, my trigger finger feeling suddenly heavy. I want to empty this entire clip into his body, then slice his throat and watch him drown

in his own defected DNA. His eyes fall on Raven, the way he looks at her makes the hair on my neck stand. Her skin instantly grows cold, her spine straightening. “She’s not going with you.” I raise a brow, challenging him to come at me. “Oh no?” Cross asks amused, cigar in his hand. “She doesn’t want anything to do with you, just let her go.” I lift my chin, and I can feel the heat of Zeek and Felix staring at me. I’m releasing my adoration for the enemy right in front of my brothers. My betrayal as thick as my devotion for this club. “Is that true, Raven?” Cross looks at her with a tilted head, his fucking dark eyes staring her down. I rub my nose along the crook of her neck, smelling her into memory. The feel of her soft skin against mine. I just want to take her back to the bunker, in a world of just us. “Tell him you’re done,” I whisper into the back of her neck, but she doesn’t say anything. My pulse hammers furiously in my neck that she won’t fucking say the words.

“Say it!” I grit, my jaw tight. “Let her go or I shoot your man,” Cross informs, snapping his fingers to the guy holding Mac. Raven tenses beneath me, and turns to face me with a hard look in her eyes. “Did you really think you could fix me? Change me?” she mouths. My eyes widen, and my grip on her tightens. My forehead begins to sweat as my gut twists. I put everything I had on the line for her. “What?” I ask with a frown, hoping I fucking heard her wrong. I put her before my club, doesn’t that fucking mean anything to her. She smiles like the fucking devil and I know then I’ve been played. I betrayed my club for a second chance at love and got burned. Again. I fucked up. This was all a game to her. Growling, I push her arm away from me and aim my gun at her head. My heart slams in my chest and rage pours through my limbs like lava. My hand shakes, my nostrils flaring with unbearable rage. I begin to pace, and just as she looks at me with those fucking eyes all I see is

she and I alone in that bunker. I stop my pacing, lower my head and glare at her. “Run, pet. Fucking run!” I growl, aiming the gun right at her pretty little head. I want to pull the trigger so bad so she can feel what the fuck I’m feeling. When she doesn’t move, I fire my gun into the ground, a bullet slamming into the dirt. She doesn’t budge, just slowly turns on her heels and begins to walk toward the man she really wants. Cross. The man with the gold teeth lets Mac go, shoving him to the point he nearly falls on his face. Anger. Fury. Hurt. It all swirls in my chest as I watch the second woman I’ve ever loved turn their back on me. I’m an animal and I am meant to be alone, I wish I could just accept that. “Let’s go,” she tells Cross, climbing into the expensive car. “Who knew all I had to do was put one of my girls inside your club just to tear it apart?” Cross chuckles to himself following Raven into the car. His men retreat into their busted ass SUV, and

they drive off into the desert. The only thing to be seen are taillights and dust. Fists clenched, head bowed back, I howl to the sky, needing to extinguish this agony in some fucking way. I need it out of me now. The smell of her, the feel of her, the defiance. It will always be with me. Felix runs after them firing his gun into the night like he’s actually going to hit his target. Some bullets hit the bumper, others lost to the darkness. Zeek slaps me upside the head and I close my eyes knowing repercussions start now. I’m going to lose everything because of Raven. “What the fuck were you thinking? Is this what you were doing with her the whole time? Getting your dick wet?” he yells, his voice beyond angry. He pulls his weapon, shoving it in my chest. “I screwed up, brother, she got under my skin and I let her,” I mutter, my eyes on him. Just like the fucking demon Lilith. The seductive bitch, making me see her for something other than the goddamn devil. “Gatz is dead because of her,” Felix juts his

chin at me, and my chest fills with anger. “She didn’t have anything to do with that, she didn’t even know where Cross was!” I point at him. I can’t believe these assholes are judging me. Zeek shoves the gun in my chest to keep me from getting close to Felix. I shake my head, glaring at my president. “I’m not a fucking traitor,” I growl, and he squints his eyes. “You know, I never turned my back on either of you when you guys decided to fuck a sheriff and a cop! Hell, there was a time Jillian tried to purposely take our club down and I still stood behind you.” I step up toward Zeek, and he drops his arm aiming the gun at me. He and Felix should know better than anyone that you don’t get to pick you who have feelings for. “You put our club at risk,” Zeek defends. “And being with a sheriff didn’t?” I rebuttal, and he scoffs. “He’s got a point,” Mac shrugs, gaining heated eyes from all of us. “Look, we can fight about bitches all day, but it ain’t going to settle anything.” Mac shakes his head, the only one of us that hasn’t

found his dick stuck in a pussy that’s tearing the club apart. Yet. I turn, rubbing my beard trying to calm myself. My chest hurts, and I’m so mad I want to fire my weapon into the air just to feel the release of the trigger against my fingers. I fucked up, and it’s not a good feeling. “What about the GPS?” Mac informs everyone, and Zeek looks to him confused. “Machete put a GPS on her.” Zeek looks to me with heated eyes. “At least you fucking her, paid off for something. Let’s go get Cross and end this shit.” “You don’t think it’s a trap?” I ask, knowing last time we saw Cross, Zeek was worried about us following him into an ambush. Zeek scoffs. “I don’t really fucking care anymore. I’m tired of this hide and seek shit. We’re doing this and now. Let’s hope your girlfriend doesn’t try and get in the fucking way or I swear to God I’ll kill her.”

SITTING IN THE COOL air conditioner of the SUV, the leather seats stick to my sweaty legs. Cross’s cologne is overpowering and makes my stomach knot, or maybe my unease is just from what the hell just happened. The look of mistrust on Machete’s face killed me. I wanted to turn and wrap my arms around him, tell everyone in that circle that this was the man I wanted to be with. But it wouldn’t be smart. It would be suicidal. Looking out the window I mindlessly grab the bat around my neck and stare at Machete as we drive away. I asked myself what would Machete do? The answer was simple, he’d go with Cross if he had the power that I do. “Do you have feelings for him?” Cross asks, his tone holding a bite to it. He’d make sure Machete

dies if I say yes. That is what Cross does, he ensures misery, so you have nothing and nobody left but him. “No,” I lie. “I can’t stand him.” The words are hard to push out and taste sour on my tongue. I didn’t want to come with Cross, but I’m the only one who can bring him down. Can’t the Outlaws see that? Cross trusts me, and I will be the only one that can get close enough to kill him. To end not just my pain, but everyone else’s that walks within his shadow. No matter how hard the Outlaws try, they will never get to him, he’s much too smart and has too many people in his pocket. Glancing down, I spot a pencil rolling about on the floor carelessly. I want to grab it and slam it up Cross’s nose to kill the shadows that haunt me. Impaling him with it will distract him enough for me to attack the driver and flip this motherfucker. Then I can finish the job and run back to Machete. Hopefully it’s not too late. Hopefully he doesn’t hate me. “You know, if you really want to hurt Machete,

I have something that will do the trick,” Cross informs and my head whips in his direction. The look on his face is vindictive and crass. He’s trying to get in my head. It’s working. “What do you mean?” “Take us to the shed,” Cross taps his driver’s shoulder before dark beady eyes look my way. “You’ll just have to see it to believe it,” he laughs wolfishly. I mask a fake smile and look the other way. I hate this man so much I can’t even fathom how I haven’t killed him in a fit of chaos yet. Machete broke the shell Cross put around my reality, making me see who was the true villain of my story, and I’m going to be the one to end this nightmare. Even if it kills me. The hairs on my neck stand and my hand drops from my necklace as I look out the window. Pulling up to an old metal shed in the middle of nowhere, an old lamppost stands beside it. It’s inconspicuous and oddly placed out here in the middle of nowhere. The driver gets out, opening Cross’s door like he’s a fucking king. I grab the pencil from the

floorboard and slide it into my shorts before getting out of the car myself. Opening the shed door, a concrete staircase leads underground. The sound of crying making my heart skip a beat and my feet halt where I stand. I know what this is. It’s just like the place he held me and dozens of other kids in when we were taken from our parents. Cross looks over his shoulder. “You coming?” He lifts a brow in knowing. I swallow a hard lump in my throat and force my feet to move. I have to do this, it involves Machete and I need to know what Cross has on him. Down the stairs, damp dirt hits the bottom of my feet as I’m not wearing shoes. It smells moldy down here and it is cold. Following Cross farther in, lights are placed along the ceiling in metal looking cages protecting them. There are spider webs along the floor and walls, mice squeaking along the floor. I grab at my back necklace pulling strength from it to keep control of my fear. Going further down I notice there aren’t a bunch of cages, there’s just

one. Cross heads to one big cage in the back and hunches down. A man stands next to it with a rifle, keeping guard. “I got it, go take a break,” Cross waves him off, and the man scurries off. I try to look over Cross’s shoulder to see what’s in there but all I see is a blue blanket and a toy boat. Cross pulls a key out unlocking the thick bolt keeping it closed. He dips inside the cage and pulls out a damn kid. All the air in my lungs are sucked from the gasp that spills from my mouth when I get a good look at the little boy. A little red-headed child looks back at me and he looks just like Machete. Is he his brother? Kid? Family member? “Who is this?” I push the word out, fighting the tears back. “Machete’s son,” he informs with disgust in his voice, holding the child under the arms like he’s a wild animal rather than a little baby. “His son?” I repeat, my head starting to ache putting everything together. “His wife brought this little guy to the club

wanting to start a new life with her new boyfriend. Machete didn’t know about him because she told Machete she got an abortion, only she didn’t and had the kid. I took the boy and didn’t tell Machete. I figured it would come in handy one day,” he informs looking the kid over like he’s an object rather than a person. Like he did me and Alessandra. “Machete went off to kill his wife’s lover, leaving her alone and with nothing. So … she got depressed and offed herself.” He laughs like it’s no big deal and I feel the sudden need to throw up. The letter she left when she died. “I gave you everything.” It makes sense now. She gave Machete their kid. The kid squirms in his hold, his little green eyes filling with tears. “You’re hurting him.” I hold my hand out, my instinct to protect him coming forth. He needs me to save him. I have to save him. I’m all he has down here. Cross gives me a concerned look before setting the kid down on the dirty ground. He’s covered in muck and has no diaper on. “I want you to be his handler,” Cross informs,

pulling a cigar out and beginning to light it. My eyes shoot to his, my heart skipping a beat, I lose my breath for a second. “Why me?” I frown. “Why? Because I want the best outlaws to do my dirty work, and you know the game as well as anyone,” he shrugs like it’s a no brainer but inside I can’t shake that he knows I have feelings for Machete, and showing me this kid is getting to me. He knows it and is toying with me. Hurting me. “I didn’t come save your ass for nothing,” he sneers. I close my eyes. I knew it, I’m just a tool to Cross. Turning away from him I place my hands on a wooden table, lowering my head I try to catch my breath. Trying to get a hold of myself and my next move. “How, how many kids are here?” I ask with as strong as voice as I can muster. Not sure I can handle the answer. “For now, just him. But that will change,” he informs with a mouth full of smoke. I cringe, knowing I have to be the one to stop this. He took my childhood and killed any chance of me being

normal. This little boy will have a life, he will collect frogs and skin his knees riding a bike, and I will see to it. “Sir?” A man steps down from the stairs, gathering Cross’s attention. Taking the opportunity, I step over to the little boy, he can’t be older than three years old and hunch down in front of him. I push a red curl from his forehead and he looks up at me with the greenest youthful eyes I’ve ever seen. Looking over my shoulder, I make sure Cross isn’t watching me before looking back at the boy. “Hi there,” I smile and he smiles a toothy grin. He’s making my black heart bleed red, Lord help me. “Can you play hide and seek?” I ask, and he looks at me with a confused look before sticking his dirty fingers in his mouth. Hmm. “What about peek a boo?” I ask cheerfully. He lights up and I nod in excitement. “Good, you close your eyes and don’t open them until I say ‘boo’, okay?” I grab his little chubby hands and place them over his eyes and he holds them there. Standing I grab the pencil from my waistband and turn where I

stand. “Let’s go in case the Outlaws followed us,” Cross states. “We can talk strategy in the car.” My chest rising and falling quickly I remember everything this man has done to me. Starving me, hurting me, depriving me of having a family. Living a life of terror and anger so he can play God of Vegas. “Why did you pick me?” I ask, looking at the floor. “Excuse me?” I lift my eyes, glaring at him. “You heard me, why did you pick me to do this. Why did you come back for me years ago, but not Alessandra?” Cross laughs, sauntering up to me like prey in the night. “Because you’re strong, numb, and very stupid.” I suck in a breath, my fingers curling around the pencil. “I knew your grudge for Alessandra was too great to see that I was the one you should have hated. You were too numb to go out there and live like the rest that escaped. You

needed me, to hide from your fear, Raven,” he seethes every word, and each one strikes me in my chest like a bullet. “You took everything from me,” I growl with closed eyes. My pain radiating through my veins. “I did, and you will never have a life. Nevermore!” He hisses the last word, and adrenaline rushes into my chest so fast a bloodcurdling scream rips up my throat. My face blistering red with rage, I race at Cross with the pencil held high in the air. His eyes widen, his cigar falling from his mouth to the ground. He reaches for something inside of his pocket, but I’m quicker, and in one quick move I slam the pencil right up his left nostril. His eyes widen to saucers, his mouth ajar as I smile at the sight before me. He screams a high pitch scream, falling to his knees his hands cupping under his nose in a frantic manner. The pencil is lodged so far up his nose you can barely see the eraser. Blood pours out of his nostrils and down over his lips, his eyes rolling in the back of his head.

Taking a step back I kick him in the face right where the pencil is, and he instantly quiets as he falls to the ground like the sack of shit he is. I tap him with my big toe and his fat ass just rocks. Quickly, I crawl on top of him and search him for a gun or something to protect myself. “Yes,” I whisper, finding a holster on the inside of his suit armed with a gun. Making sure it’s loaded and ready I turn to see the little boy with his eyes still covered. God, he’s cute. Stepping over to the fallen cigar I grab it and toss it on some blueprints on the table. Instantly smoke rises as they catch fire. Hunching down in front of the boy I whisper, “Boo,” and he moves his hands to the side with a smile. I pick him up and set him on my hip like I’ve seen other woman do with their kids, and aim the gun in front of me. Anyone could have heard the commotion and might be headed this way. Smoke fills the room and little man starts to cough from it, so I hurry toward the stairs. When

my foot hits the bottom step the driver opens the door from the top. His eyes widen and he reaches for his gun. Shit. “Let’s play again?” I whisper to the kid, and he hides fast. I pull the trigger and a bullet slams into the man’s neck. He gurgles, drowning in blood as he falls down the stairs. I jump over him and continue up the steps as quickly as I can. Reaching the exit, cool air hits my lungs and I inhale a big breath to clear the smoke from them. “RAAAAVEN!” The familiar voice of Cross calls after me from down the stairs. Getting away from the shed, I set the boy down who looks up at me with lost scared eyes. “We are going to play one more time okay?” The color of fire wafts up the stairs as a silhouette stumbles up the stairs; Cross. He trips, falling to his knees. Crawling out of the underground he coughs with blood all over him. Widening my stance, I aim my gun at him, my hand shaky as I’m about to kill the boogie man himself. Mothers will sleep better at nights, kids

won’t be taken from the street anymore, and I can live knowing my demon is laid to rest. The sound of motorcycles roar in the distance and my heart skips a beat knowing Machete came for me. Cross rolls over onto his back and looks up at the sky. He’s weak and in pain, his fight little to none. The gun gripped tightly in my hand I head over to him. Blood drips from his eyes, the internal bleeding killing him slowly. Good. “This is for every kid you’ve hurt, but most of all… this is for Gatz,” I whisper, remembering the pain on Machete’s face when he lost his friend. I wanted so badly to take that pain from him, to make it right. And I am, now. “Raven don’t!” Zeek orders from behind me. Looking his way, I find all of the Outlaws looking at me with serious looks, all of them standing next to their motorcycles. Machete included. Lost in my own world I didn’t even hear them park. I close my eyes, my hand shaking as I want to pull the trigger so bad. I can’t let him live, what if he gets away and comes for me again?

“We need him alive!” Mac informs with a begging tone. I shake my head. “I can’t do that. He has to die, it’s the only way.” Tears fill my eyes as the warmth of the reaper breathes down my neck. Encouraging me to give him this soul, to gift him a sinner’s life that was meant to end long ago. I look at the little boy who looks at me with innocence, sucking on his cute little fingers. “Peek-a—” He closes his eyes with a smile and I look down at cross. “Boom,” I whisper, pulling the trigger and taking his fucking soul. A bullet strikes right into his skull. Instantly a cool rush of air wafts around me, dust kicking up around my feet as the burden of my past is lifted from my shoulders. I’m free.

Blood and skull spray all over Raven. Painting her

in a masterpiece of madness. It’s sexy. The tightness in my chest easing, she didn’t betray me. She came to do exactly what she said she was. To kill Cross. My nostrils flare at the smell of blood and a smile plays across my face as I watch her slay her past. That’s my girl. Strong and stubborn. Zeek and the boys groan in anger that she killed Cross, but I didn’t want to deliver him alive anyway. He killed Gatz. Raven drops the gun to the ground as the wind suddenly kicks up out of nowhere. It wafts around her blowing her hair around. Slowly she turns, her stoic face looks to be in a daze as she bends down, picking up a kid. I noticed him before but didn’t give him much thought as I was worried about Cross reaching up and grabbing Raven. A gun goes off in the distance and we all duck. “Motherfucker!” Felix fires his gun, and a man falls to the ground right behind the shed. Raven stands straight and heads right toward me now that the threat is gone, so I force my feet to move and go to her as Zeek and Felix head to

Cross’s body. Reaching Raven, her face is covered in soot and blood, her eyes filled with tears as she looks down at the kid with love in her eyes. It takes me aback. He has red hair and green eyes. He’s cute, but does she know him? Her eyes peer up under thick lashes. “Machete, meet your son,” she whispers and my stomach knots so hard I can’t breathe. My eyes fall upon the little boy and I see… me. “H-how?” I ask in disbelief, my hands run through my hair as I think about how this could be possible. “Your wife dropped him off before she killed herself and Cross took him,” she explains. My eyes flick to hers, remembering how Liviana told me she wasn’t keeping the kid, it gutted me. I never saw a baby bump though, but then again she never wanted to see me, she said I was fucked up. She hid from me whenever she could. I rub my chin, thinking back to the last time I saw her. She had on a large hoody and sweatpants.

I thought it was because it was cool outside, but maybe she was hiding something more. Fuck. Rubbing my chin, I take a step back, looking him over. “Holy fuck,” Felix mutters from behind me, eyeing the kid. The little boy reaches for me like he knows me without even knowing me. Putting my weapon in my waistband, I take him from Raven. “Oh fuck,” I say to myself, and Mac slaps me upside the head. “You can’t say fuck in front of him, dumb ass,” he shakes his head, and Felix laughs. He has my eyes, my hair, damn… he’s a minime. I’m a father? How the hell did God let me create another me? The scared look in his eyes reminds me of Raven and tugs at my chest. I pull him close, and he nuzzles into me. “I got you,” I whisper, emotion thick in my voice. I can’t believe Liviana lied to me. That bitch!

“What do we do with Raven?” Mac asks, his hands in his pockets as he looks her over. My brows narrow, and my jaw clenches. “She’s mine!” I bark, pushing her behind me in a protective manner. My chest constricts knowing I’m putting her before my club, but I can’t let her go. She’s mine. “She chose Cross, we all saw it,” Felix shrugs. “She wouldn’t have killed Cross and brought me my child if she was the enemy,” I defend. “I went with him because I was the only way. You guys never would have gotten close to him, admit it. You guys have been after him for how long now?” she informs over my shoulder. “She didn’t leave us, she was saving our fucking club,” I state. Zeek looks at her with hooded eyes, rubbing his chin as fire explodes from below, shaking the ground. “All right,” he mumbles, looking her over closely. “You claiming her as your ol’ lady?” Zeek asks, testing my devotion. His eyes setting on me. He’s asking me the ultimate question, do I trust her

enough to lay my cut on the line for her. I look over my shoulder at her, dark round eyes looking back at me. Glancing down my … son looks at me with a similar look. The club is all I have and without it, I’d be lost. Riding into the wind without a cause, but I truly feel that Raven made me see that I don’t have to be alone in all of this either. “Yes, this is my family,” I mutter, the word ‘family’ hard to say. “Alessandra is not going to like this,” Felix laughs, scratching his head with the barrel of his gun. “She’ll get over it,” Zeek shakes his head.

SITTING ON A WOODEN crate in The Sin City Outlaws warehouse, I hold Machete’s son close to my chest. He’s asleep and so warm. He has the cutest chubby cheeks and red hair with matching eyebrows. He’s covered in dirt, and it’s driving me crazy. I want to wash him, to rinse his past from him. Glancing up, I notice women and men all staring at me with curious eyes. It makes me uneasy, and I want a gun. I may have killed my past tonight, but the warrior in me will never die. A woman in black leather boots and long legs struts up to me. She’s wearing jean shorts that are frayed, and a red tight shirt that is torn across her belly. Her hair is black like mine, but she has this look about her that makes her look like a toy doll; a

slutty one. “You shouldn’t be here,” she scowls, placing her hand on her hip. I ignore her, looking down at the baby. “Did you hear me, bitch? You haven’t paid your dues and have a lot of eyes on you. Do you think you can just walk in here and take a place you have no place taking?” She’s going to wake the baby, goddamn it. Rage burns in my chest and I slowly raise my eyes. My eyes peering up under my black hair. “Get the fuck away from me or I will rip your fucking spine from your body,” I growl. Her eyes go wide, her mouth dropping open in disbelief. My eyes catch sight of Alessandra through the crowd, her arms crossed as she heads my way. Her hair is down and she’s wearing a sports top with yoga pants. I’m sure I look a hot fucking mess covered in ash and blood. She glances at the slutty chick, a hateful look passing her face. “Beat it, Dolly,” she orders, her pretty eyes turning a shade darker. “I’d say she’s more fucked up than any of

you,” Dolly insults me, before strutting away. I roll my eyes, that bitch better stay clear of me or she’ll see just how fucked up I can get. “He’s cute,” Alessandra tries to make small talk. Two girls in leather clothes whisper to each other, eyeing me as they walk past. I can tell I’m not everyone’s favorite. “Don’t mind everyone they’re just trying to understand if you’re the bad guy or the good guy,” she informs casually. She tilts her head to the side. “So which is it, are you the good guy or the bad guy?” I think about that, the term good guy is a loose word and holds no meaning. Nobody is good, we are all bad. “I’ve never been a good person,” I mutter. She scoffs. “Me neither, but you’re not going to try and hurt my family, are you.” My head whips up, holding the boy close. To hear her call the Outlaws her family, it pangs a twinge of jealousy in my chest. “No,” I reply. “I’d never hurt Machete or this little boy,” I mutter looking down at him.

“I heard Machete claimed you.” She sits next to me, and the scent of her smells good. I shrug, not really sure what to say to that or what it means. “Look, I know you hate me, and we have a rough past, but you did right by taking Cross out and saving Machete’s kid.” I look to her, hearing I actually did something right makes me light up inside more than I’d like to admit. “Yeah, well being held captive in a dark room gives you a lot of time to think about your life,” I state, and she nods. “We have a lot in common and once we get past this weirdness, I think we will make a good team.” She tucks a few pieces of hair behind her ear, and I glance at her. “It will take time to get used to people liking you, but you’ll come around.” I roll my eyes and look back at the boy. I’m not used to people. Period. “He’s covered in mud and really needs a diaper,” she laughs. “It’s driving me nuts, it reminds me of us when

we were in those damn dirt cages,” I cringe, trying to rub some dirt off his thigh. “Let’s go wash him up, get him used to be a spoiled brat like Jillian’s kids,” she mutters. Standing up I make sure not to wake the child and head to the bunker I was held prisoner in. Going down the stairs, I hit the main room, and the smell of the old bunker oddly comforts me. I wish Machete were here, but he said he had to go do some club business and would be back. Not to let his boy out of my sight. I grab an old shirt of Machete’s off the floor and head into the shower area. Turning it on, I wait until the water warms up, and dab some apple shampoo on the shirt. Gently I caress it across his cheeks and chubby legs and he slowly wakes up. “Hi,” I smile, and he coos, grabbing at the water. “You were right, you know,” Alessandra whispers from the doorway behind me. “About what?” I amuse her. “I would be right where you were if I didn’t

have my family to take the memories away. If it counts for anything, I wish they didn’t make me forget.” The honesty in her voice makes me stop my movements and look over my shoulder at her. She stares back, a silent understanding passing between us. “Do you love him?” She is referring to Machete I assume. I look back down at the child and dwell on what is inside my chest. The way I felt when I saw Machete come after me tonight. How I wanted to make his kid’s pain disappear. “Yes,” I confess, and it hurts to admit it because that means I’m at his mercy. He broke me and I love him. My master. “You two are good for each other,” she nods approvingly. “How so?” “You’re both fucking nuts,” she laughs. I smirk because I know Machete isn’t one shade of normal, but neither am I. That’s why we work. We don’t work on what is expected of us or what is normal. We’re just… us.

Cleaning the boy up as much as I can, I turn away from the shower and dry him off with a towel I’ve used many times. “Can I hold him?” she asks with sparkly eyes. I pull him close, protective instincts not wanting to let him out of my hold. Sensing my unease, she holds her hands up. “Another time,” she raises her brows. I instantly feel like shit. He’s not even my kid, I just… I feel a connection with him and feel like he’s been through hell already. I want to keep him safe. “Sorry, I just—” “No, I get it. I just have baby fever, I think Felix and I are going to try,” she confesses. “Anyone down here?” a female voice hollers out, breaking into our conversation. “Yeah,” Alessandra informs as if she knows who is calling out. Down the steps, a blond haired beauty enters the bunker. Jillian to be exact. She’s carrying a diaper bag and a bright smile. She’s a bad ass sheriff and one tough fighter. I’ve looked her up,

she is the queen of the MC. Zeek’s pride and joy, she is the one that tamed the main beast. “Is this him?” she asks looking Machete’s boy over, her mouth gaped open. I furrow my brows, doesn’t she hate me like everyone else? Her eyes drift upward to mine, and she smirks. “So, you’re the bad ass Raven I’ve heard so much about.” She tilts her head to the side. I swallow, not sure what she’s heard. It’s all bad I’m sure. “Don’t worry about it, we’re all damaged goods looking for a second chance, babe. You killing Cross and saving Machete’s child. I think you’re ahead of us all down here,” she laughs, handing me the blue diaper bag. Hesitantly I take it, I am not used to all this help and communication from others. “There are some clothes that might fit him, some diapers too. They might be a little tight as he’s a little bigger than my own, but there should be something in there. Oh, and some juice,” she points to the bag. I pull a bottle of apple juice out and look a green sippy cup over. I have no idea what I’m

doing. Do I just put it in the cup or do I dilute the juice with water? Holding back my own tears, I stumble to find a seat on the couch. This is all too much, too fast. I went from wanting freedom to taking care of a baby! From being scared of everything and everyone, to being strong. “You okay?” Jillian asks, her soft hand cupping my arm. I hang my head, my chest pounding like a drum. “I’m not used to so many people around me and being nice, at that. It feels awkward,” I admit. “I think this is a lot for her,” Alessandra whispers to Jillian. Glancing up through glossy eyes I push my ego to the side, and look up at the two girls that should hate me. That should be hanging me by my toes and outing me for the things that I have done. “Thank you,” I push through thick emotion and try for a serious tone but I fail. “Machete said you’re his, so you’re ours. You fuck up, we’ll kick your ass back into place,” Jillian shrugs. I kind of hate that she’s so nice.

“I kinda hope you fuck up, I owe you an ass kicking,” Alessandra says with a serious tone. I laugh, brushing a tear off my cheek. “Welcome to the club, bitch,” Alessandra winks. “Is Machete back yet?” I ask, straightening my spine. I want to see him so bad, to have him close to me and hear his arrogant voice. He makes me feel safe, and right now with all these people I’m freaking out. “Settling shit with the mafia, they were supposed to deliver Cross alive so you killing him might have fucked some things up,” Jillian informs. “Shit.” I bite my bottom lip, guilt panging in my chest. What if the mafia tries to kill them? “Should we go find them? Help them out?” I ask seriously. I will cut anyone that tries to come at Machete. Alessandra’s eyes widen at my dedication. “They can handle themselves, trust me, and don’t beat yourself up. I agree with what you did to Cross,” Jillian states. “I wanted to kill him, you just got to him first,” she tells with a heated tone.

“Me too. Blood for blood,” Alessandra backs up. I look up through wet lashes. Repeating what Alessandra just said in my head. Blood for blood. Consequences for actions. “Blood for blood,” I repeat as I slowly sink into the life of an Outlaw.

Sitting in the main office in the casino all I can think about is my son and Raven. I want to be with them, not here trying to settle a fucking score with the mafia. My heart sunk when Raven left with Cross. I wanted to jerk the chain that wasn’t on her ankle and demand she stays by my side. I swore to myself I would never allow myself this pain again. But when I saw her kill Cross without giving a damn, and she saved my estranged child. I knew right then I was not letting her out of my sight… I would, in fact, chain her up and never let her see daylight again as long as she was mine forever.

Finally Georgeno steps into the office, the same men from last time right behind him. He’s wearing a red suit with a black tie, the smell of aftershave too fucking strong for me. It’s like they bathe in the shit. “Tell me you have him,” Georgeno assumes with arrogance as he stuffs his large belly behind the desk. “We do, but there was a mishap,” Zeek informs with a grim tone. He scoots to the edge of his seat, leaning his elbow on the desk. Georgeno lifts a dark brow, clicking his tongue against his teeth with an irritated look on his face. “I don’t like mishaps. Mishaps are a big fucking deal breaker,” he bites each word around a cigar. “Don’t tell me I just pushed a broad with double D tits off my dick for you to tell me you failed?” he shouts, and I get a mental image immediately. I close my eyes, not wanting to see his tiny dick in my mind. “He’s dead,” Felix spits it out, not beating around the bush. I open my eyes, ready to retaliate if necessary.

“Motherfucker,” Georgeno mutters under his breath. “You were supposed to deliver him to me alive!” He slams his fist on the desk, his beady snake eyes jumping from each of us. I feel Zeek tense, and I know this is on me. “That was before he killed one of our men and kidnapped my son!” I roar, fury laced in my voice. I want to kill this motherfucker, get my hands bloody. It would be nice to take my frustrations out on someone tonight. Georgeno’s eyes shoot to mine. “He took your child?” he asks with a calmer tone. “My son, and held him underground from me for who knows how long,” I state with a cold tone. Just hearing me say it out loud makes me want to bring Cross back from the dead just to kill him again. “That fucking underground ring of his,” Georgeno shakes his head. “He wanted us to fund it you know, but we do shit our way. Not with children either.” Georgeno points at us with his cigar.

“So what’s this mean?” Zeek shrugs, sitting forward in his leather chair. Georgeno stares at us, placing the cigar between his yellow teeth. “You do three jobs for us, and I can make the deal stick. You run the casino and cut us our profit,” Georgeno offers. “Jobs?” I ask. We wanted away from these assholes, this is going right back to them. “Yeah, someone owes us money, you shake them down. Makes shit easier for us and I don’t have to find some punk to come down here and trust him to bring me my money or drugs,” he explains. “Just three?” I clarify. “Three,” Georgeno holds up three stubby fingers as if I’m slow or something. I really want to whip my machete through the air and cut them off. Zeek looks at me and I nod reluctantly. As much as I don’t want to be in bed with them it sounds fucking easy enough to get them out of our hair. It’s just three jobs. He looks to Mac and Felix, and they both nod too.

“Deal. Three jobs, and that’s it,” Zeek stands offering his hand. “Excellent. I know your club won’t disappoint,” Georgeno smiles a wicked smile. “Speaking of my Club, how can I do three jobs for you when my clubhouse is blown apart?” Zeek pushes, and my eyes flick to Georgeno. He raises a brow, amusement crossing his face. “Touché, shoot me a bill and the boys and I will take care of the costs. Keep it under two hundred grand.” Georgeno points at him with the cigar between his fingers. I bite my inner cheek. Holy Shit! We could have built the club way cheaper than that. Zeek is quick on his feet when he wants to be. “Pleasure doing business,” Zeek chuckles. “Where do you want the body?” I ask, wanting that motherfucker Cross as far away from me as possible. If you ask me, we should burn it. Kill the curse and the demons that lurk within that motherfucker. “I’ll have my men take care of it,” he grumbles. “Burn it, otherwise his spirit can haunt us all.”

Zeek taps his knuckles on the table. I smile, he read my mind. Turning to leave I look to Zeek who glances at me. Mac slaps my back laughing and Felix smiles wolfishly. “We fucking did it,” I smile. We settled our beef with the mafia, and Cross is fucking done! We can go on about business and run Vegas like Outlaws. “We rocked the boat, and sunk that motherfucker!” I laugh. But it slowly fades when I realize that even though we may have claimed victory… my brother Gatz wasn’t here by my side. He won’t be ever again…

Twelve hours later LAYING ON THE COT in the bunker the little boy is sucking on his thumb fast asleep. The metal door creaks opens and the familiar smell of Machete fills the room. I inhale a large breath, missing him. “You’re on the bed,” he observes, noting that I’m not lying on the floor like usual. I tuck a curl from the boy’s face. He’s too cute and full of life to lurk amongst the soulless, to creep with the creatures of the night. “I don’t want him to sleep on the floor,” I admit. He’s young enough to have a life, to have a crib with stupid cartoon characters and be normal. Machete walks up to the cot, his warmth filling

the room. “You don’t have to be in here anymore, Raven,” he informs. “You can lay on the couch or something,” he suggests. “Shh, you’ll wake him,” I state in a hushed voice, I know I don’t have to be in here but I feel safer in here. This is where it all happened. Me breaking, learning how to feel, and be safe. This is where I want this little boy to be reborn. Machete sits on the edge of the bed. His eyes looking over me and at the kid. “You look scared,” I observe. A new look for the animal himself. “I’m fucking terrified,” he admits, and I silently laugh. “He’s really a good baby, or at least I think he is.” Machete sighs, reaching over me to grab his pudgy little hand. As if he needs to feel him to realize he is real. “It’s just crazy,” he mutters. “He needs a name,” I tell him. Silence fills the room, as he slides behind me, his arm hooking

around me and the kid. We’re much too big for this little bed, and I swear it’s going to break but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now. “Gatz’s, real name was Cole. So his name will be Cole Ryder,” Machete states, and I have to push back the burn in my chest. I didn’t know Gatz well, but he seemed smart and loyal. It’s awesome Machete is passing down his name. “I love it.” I brush the hair from Cole’s face again. I feel Machete inhale at the back of my neck as he pulls me close, and I sink into his warmth. “Your old lady huh?” I ask, remembering Zeek asking him if he was claiming me. “You’ll always be my toy first, and I your master,” he informs, his fingers digging into my ass cheeks roughly. “You will always be taken care of, if you’re with me, Raven,” he states, almost as if he’s asking me to accept to be his. I look over my shoulder, my eyes looking at his. “Are you asking me?” He gives me a blank look before his face hardens. “No, I’m your master and you know it,”

his words strong. I lay my head back down, getting comfortable. “I do know it,” I whisper. I look over my shoulder. “Do you want me to scream for you?” I ask with lust in my voice and he chuckles. “Always, pet,” he growls. “I’ve had a long day and need to take my frustration out on my woman,” he whispers into the back of my neck. My sex pulses with excitement. If this is what it’s like to be an ol’ lady, sign me up. He lifts me from the bed, and I claw at the mattress. “We can’t just leave him,” I whisper. “He’s sleeping, he’s fine,” he reassures. “I need time with you,” he breathes into my neck. Reluctantly, I let go and Machete takes me into the main room and bends me over the couch. My fingers dig into the fabric, and I look over my shoulder. He walks over to the wall of pain and comes back with clamps of some kind, and I frown wondering what he intends to do with them. Pulling my shorts and panties down with

urgency, his hand trails up my spine. My breathing becomes labored as my mind wonders wildly what he plans to do to me. “When he took you from me, I was ready to set the world on fire,” he breathes into the back of my neck. His hands sliding around my front, he flicks my nipple with his fingers and I silently moan. Suddenly red hot heat blazes through my nipple and around my breast. My pussy drips with arousal. Looking down I spot a clamp on my right nipple. It hurts, but my mind is focusing on his hands sliding my ass cheeks apart. “Drip for me, baby,” he whispers huskily, his finger tests my wetness. “I want your scent on my fingers all night.” He slaps the tip of his cock against my sex and I toss my head back with a loud moan. I’m so wound up, I feel like I’m going to explode into a million little pieces. One jerk of his hips and he’s deep inside of me. Stretching and filling me, it feels so good I almost forget about the clamp on my tit. Driving in and out of me, he fists my hair,

arching my neck. His lips skim across the back of my neck, his breaths silently telling me how much he missed me. “I love you,” I moan, and his hips slow, his hold on my hair easing. His nose brushes against my ear, and my eyes open nervous I just freaked him out. I crook my head to the side, finding wild eyes looking right back. “You heard me. If staying in the dark with you forever is love, then I never want to feel the warmth of the sun again,” I whisper. “Maybe I don’t know what love is, maybe you just starved me of basic human contact and you’re the only one I’ve ever connected with, but I don’t care. I knew the day I saw you, we’d make the best love story ever.” I shrug, knowing how fucked up our story really is. How fast and quick it is, but goddamn if it hasn’t been a ride. He smirks, his hand brushing down the nape of my neck. “I love you too,” he replies, and the blinding heat around my nipple turns into pleasure. I have to bite my lips together to keep from screaming out.

It feels so good. The throbbing around my nipple surfing through my body in a wave of pain and pleasure. Machete’s hand snakes around the front, his thumb swirling my clit. I melt into his hold, my body coming undone as a pressure so hard threatens to ignite in my abdomen. “Scream for me,” he whispers into my hair, and a clipping noise sounds between my legs before beautiful fucking pain pinches my clit. I scream and fall to my knees as I’m thrown into the fire of pleasure. I come so hard Machete has to hold me up as he pumps in and out of me. Stars fire behind my eyes, and I forget to breathe as Machete growls and fucks me into the couch. My head wedged between the cushions as he chases his release. Panting, and feeling sensitive everywhere, I don’t move. He takes the clamp off my clit and nipple at the same time and I jerk in reaction. Machete chuckles, tossing the clamps on the floor. His finger grazes the X on my lower back and I tense.

“If you ever want to cover that up, I have a tattoo guy that is awesome,” he suggests. I shrug, never thinking about covering it up before but I want to. I hate it, it’s a constant reminder of my past. “What would I get?” I shrug. “Anything you want,” he laughs. He grabs me by the face, bringing me close. His wild eyes searching mine. “I really do love you. I wouldn’t have risked my position in this club if I didn’t,” he confesses. “That being said, my love will be rough and obsessive. If you leave me, I will make it hard for you to be without me. You’re mine, understand?” Licking my lips, I nod. I was his the day he took me captive. He presses his lips to mine, his tongue sliding against mine, tasting me. Cole begins to cry in the other room, and Machete and I both tense and run to his aid. Machete turns the light on and I pick Cole up. He smiles, grabbing at my face with his little hands. Cole really is a good name for him. He looks like a Cole.

“Looks like he already has us wrapped around his fucking finger,” Machete laughs, his red hair a tousled mess. “Do you want to hold him?” I ask. I hold my hands out, offering him. Machete swallows hard, before stepping up to us. He holds his out arms, an unsure look passing his face. Carefully I hand him to him, aiding him in holding him. “Watch his head, it still kind of bobbles,” I laugh, and Machete moves his hand behind Cole’s head to balance it. Stepping back, I look at them both. Machete is shirtless, and pantless for that matter, but the fatherly look on his face is what holds me. I can tell in that split second of looking at his son that he will never let anything bad happen to him again. Some may call him crazy, obsessive, and an asshole, but I know he will always treat me like his princess of darkness. It’s crazy how not one, but two males broke the shell of my past and made me into a woman in a

matter of days. I discovered a whole other person within myself, and I have Machete to thank for that. I may not be the most likeable bitch in the club, and I’m sure to say fuck a lot around the kid, but I’ll be one hell of an ol’ lady.

Two Days Later BENT OVER A LEATHER chair I clench my eyes shut. “When you said you knew a guy that could tattoo me, I wasn’t expecting you to be that person,” I whisper, my fingers clawing into the seat. Machete laughs, the buzzing sound from the tool making me anxious. “Don’t move,” he warns, and I take a deep breath. “I do a lot of the guy’s tattoos at the club. Seeing our club is blown to shit, this will have to work,” he informs. I remember the spider and the webbing on Gatz’s arm, I loved it. “Did you do Gatz’s?” “Yeah, all of them,” he replies. That relaxes me

some, that was beautiful work, so Machete has to know what he’s doing. The little needle starts hitting my skin slowly. It’s not so bad. Then the buzzing speeds up, and so does the needle. I tense, my eyes squeezed shut. “Breathe,” Machete warns, so I exhale a ragged breath. “What are you drawing?” I ask. I couldn’t think of anything but knew I wanted that small X covered up, Machete said to trust him so here I am. At his mercy. My skin is ablaze, my teeth gritted as I nearly snap off my nails into the chair as he tattoos my lower back. I inhale and exhale. Trying not to focus on the scratching of the needle in my skin. “All done,” he states, giving the fresh ink a swipe with a paper towel. “Really? Already?” I ask, looking over my shoulder. That was quick. Standing, I make my way to the bathroom, holding my shirt up. I turn, looking in the mirror. The word ‘Freedom’ sits on my lower back, the top of the M looks like a small bat flying away.

“Oh it’s perfect. You did so good,” I smile, looking it over. The skin around it is red, the ink black and perfect. “Freedom,” I whisper, feeling just that. Free, like the bat. Machete leans against the doorframe with a smirk on his face. “I didn’t know you could draw,” I state, lowering my shirt. He shrugs. “You didn’t ask.” He’s right, I didn’t. It makes me excited to learn more about him. Cole cries in the other room, gathering our attention. Walking through the suite that Machete put us up in the Sin Casino, my feet press into the soft carpet. It’s three bedrooms, big bathroom that overlooks the Strip and the open floor plan is just amazing. Eventually we are getting a house, but we want it to be perfect. Opening the door, Cole is sitting in his crib playing with a toy motorcycle. “Hey buddy,” I smile, and he coos trying to pull himself up. The club came together and got Cole a

crib, clothes, and toys too. It’s crazy how they all come together like that, I’m not used to it. “He okay?” Machete asks, pulling a shirt over his bare chest. “Yeah, I think he’s just hungry.” “I need to deliver this letter to Gatz’s partner, so I will be gone for a day or two,” he informs. My face falls, and he walks over to me, grabbing the nape of my neck. “Now?” I ask with disbelief. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and looks at the time. “Actually, we were supposed to leave an hour ago. I’m sure Zeek is happy with me,” he shakes his head. “When will you be back? I’ll go with you,” I ramble. He steps up to me, his crazy beautiful eyes grabbing me. “It’s club business, you can’t come. There is going to many times I have to get up and go and you won’t know much other than I’ll be back. You have to be okay with that,” he tells me. I sigh, not liking the sound of that. I didn’t sign up for being left alone in some hotel room not knowing where

my man is. “If you need anything, call or use the club’s SUV, okay?” I nod, knowing this has to be done. Gatz was a good man, and I want the club to find this guy that Gatz loved. I just wish I could go with them. “Okay,” I whisper. He gives me a chaste kiss, before rubbing Cole’s head. “Bye, little man.” With Cole on my hip, I walk to the floor to ceiling window and wait for Kane and the boys to ride out. It doesn’t take long before they all drive out of the parking lot, one by one. “There’s Daddy.” I point at him and Cole grabs my finger trying to say Daddy. My eyes fall to the construction workers rebuilding the clubhouse, they have their work cut out for them. I sigh, turning where I stand. I guess I better get used to Machete leaving on club business. Sitting on the floor I cross my legs and watch Cole try and wander about. He’s so cute. Someone knocks on the door catching my

attention. Furrowing my brows, I stand. Who could be here? I reach into the blue flower vase by the door and fist the pistol before looking through the peephole. It’s Jillian? I put the gun back in its place and unlock the door. “Hey! Want to take the babies to the park or go get some shakes or something?” she asks, walking in with two babies. Her hair is down, and she’s wearing black stretch pants and a pink cute top. You can’t even tell she had two kids. She must workout a lot. She tilts her head to the side when I don’t reply back, her blond hair framing her face. “I just figured with the men being gone, it would help keep our mind off them. I wish I could go with them,” she mutters and that catches my attention. Maybe we are more alike than I thought. “Yeah, I don’t like being left like this,” I confess. “Sucks doesn’t it? I bet you and I are way better shots than them too,” she laughs, and I nod in agreement.

It feels nice to have someone other than Machete include me in the club. To want my company, and know how much it sucks when your man has to leave without much info other than club business. “All right, let me grab his diaper bag.” I agree, and she lights up. I reach in the vase and put my gun in the diaper bag. She frowns, and I know I’m about to be ridiculed, but I feel safer with it. “Oh, I have something that will work much better than that,” she insists, before pulling her shirt down and showing me a gun holstered inside her bra. My mouth drops, it’s brilliant. I couldn’t even tell she had it on her. “They call it a flashbang, and it’s so easy to get to, and you don’t have to worry about the kids getting it,” she continues. Stepping closer I stare at her tits in awe, wondering who came up with such an awesome bra. “Come on, we will go get you one! Screw the park,” she laughs.

I look to her, excited. Maybe I found the right kind of crazy to be around. My outlaw family.

RIDING TO CALIFORNIA my hands ache from the long ride, and my face is burnt from the sun. The wind feels great though, and my mind has had more time to think than it needs. I’m overthinking. I’ve thought about schools, fucking houses, and stupid shit I’ve never thought twice about before. We stopped in the last city and I called Raven to check up on her and Cole, they’re fine but I hate leaving them so soon. I have them staying in a suite at the casino until I can find something a little more permanent. I’m not the white picket fence kind of guy, so I don’t even know what to look for. Neither is Raven though, so it works. Felix drives in front of me, leading the way to the Devil’s Dust clubhouse, and my heart begins to beat a little faster as we get closer. We are delivering the letter today as we need to make plans

for Gatz’s burial. Zeek called his parents, but they didn’t want anything to do with him. They knew he was gay, and were not very accepting of it. Explains why Gatz was so nervous to tell us, he was afraid to lose his only family. Sounds like me. Pulling into the clubhouse, our arrival doesn’t go unnoticed. The president of the club, Bull, walks out with his men in tow. He’s older than any of our guys and is a tough son of a bitch. He has jet-black hair with a little silver lining it from age. He also has the greenest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen. We cut our engines and pull our helmets off. I stand, needing to stretch my legs out. “Is Kane here?” I ask, and Bull looks over his shoulder. An Indian looking guy with long black hair walks out with a concerned look on his face. He’s big and looks violent. He makes Gatz look like a bitch in comparison. “I’m Kane,” he states. I step up to him and give him the letter. He looks over his shoulder before opening it and reading it. All of his men stand behind him, eyeing us. He’s about the same height as me, but his chest

is more toned. He has a lot of ink and a look that is just as intimidating as my own. How he and Gatz got together is a story I want to hear. We all stand back, letting him read it. His eyes go glossy, and he rests his hand on the back of his head in unease. I can’t imagine what he’s thinking. Will he tell his brothers right here what happened, who Gatz is? “When’s the funeral?” Kane asks, with teary eyes. His voice thick with emotion. “That’s why we’re here, for you to make arrangements,” Zeek informs, still sitting on his bike. Kane folds the paper and looks to his brothers. “Gatz’s parents?” “They didn’t want anything to do with him,” I inform and he shakes his head. “Go figure,” he scoffs, apparently knowing Gatz well enough to know his parents are a piece of work. He turns to Bull and stands tall. “How… How’d he die?” Kane asks, keeping his eyes on his feet. “There was an explosion at the club, retaliation

from an enemy.” Kane’s head jerks up. “It’s been handled though,” Felix reassures him. “I need to go,” he states in a lost voice. “Everything ok, son?” Bull asks, his gaze flicking to us as if we are the reason for his pain and sudden leave. “I—I’ll tell you everything later, I just need to go right now,” Kane stammers before looking back at us. You can tell he’s lost, confused and doesn’t know how to accept it. ‘I need to get Simone and I’ll head that way.” That must be the chick with Gatz’s baby. We give a curt nod, and I climb back on my bike for the journey home.

The funeral On the back of Machete’s bike, I pull at my leather cut proudly as citizens stand by the street and eye

the long line of motorcycles behind the hearse. My road name patch labeling me as Lilith, and Machete’s property. Cars pull to the side as the funeral procession progresses to the graveyard. This is my first time on a motorcycle and I can see why Machete likes it so much. I feel like a bad ass on it, and everyone looks your way when you’re driving past. I pull my phone out, checking to see if the nanny has called while we’ve been gone. It’s the same nanny Jillian uses, but I still don’t trust anyone around Cole. Not after what he’s been through. I know I’m not his mother, but I’ll be damned if anyone tries to tell me otherwise. We park on the small cracked pavement and make our way to the grave. The ground is soft beneath my feet, and the grass is so green it makes Machete’s eyes look dull. All the Outlaws have their cuts on, and the casket has Gatz’s leather cut spread across it. A preacher from a nearby church begins to talk about life and death, and everyone grows quiet. Standing by Machete, I cross my hands in front of me and

try to listen. I notice a tall dark man walk up to the casket, his cut reading he’s from another club. He holds one lonely rose and places it on the cut. His eyes are bloodshot, and a beautiful pregnant woman stands behind him with tears smearing her makeup. I’ve never seen them before. “Is that?” I point to them and Machete nods knowing exactly what I’m about to ask. “Yeah. Seems Gatz, Kane, and that chick is Simone, they all had a wild orgy and she got pregnant. The club doesn’t want them to go back to California, either,” he whispers to me, and my eyes widen that he told me club info. “Why?” I ask, looking back at the two. The man hooks his arm with the woman and they stand by looking at the casket as if they’re remembering the good times. “We want to ensure the baby is safe, and we can’t do that if the pregnant bitch is in another state,” Machete replies in a hushed tone. “Is the baby Gatz’s?” I ask. Machete shrugs. I cross my arms, looking the two over. She’s small other than the bump on her. She’d be easy to

take. The man, not so much. He’s about as big as Machete. “You can always put her in the bunker,” I joke and Machete looks at me with a serious look on his face. “That’s actually not a bad idea,” he rubs his face, looking her over. I slap his shoulder. “I was joking!” Kind of. He narrows his brows. “I wasn’t. They’re not leaving, not until I know if that baby really is Gatz’s and that it’s being taken care of,” Machete insists. He may be my asshole master, but he has a big heart. I look at the pregnant woman, she’s glowing. Beautiful even. Then back to the tall man. “You want him too?” I ask curiously. “If we have to,” Machete shrugs. I chew on my thumbnail, thinking how we could lure them both into captivity. I glance to Alessandra, who is crying her damn eyes out. Her and I could totally be a distraction or something. Machete chuckles. “We got it handled,” he informs, and I pout.

“Let me know if you need my help…” I offer, and Machete pulls me in close a wolfish smile on his face. “That’s my girl,” he whispers, kissing me on the temple.

One month later STANDING IN THE NEW clubhouse the smell of fresh wood and paint almost overtakes the smell of booze and perfume. I’ve never been in here before it blew up. “Hey want a beer?” Jillian smiles, handing me one. I take it, giving a smile in thanks. “Hey, I was going to take the kids outside, want me to take Cole?” She looks down at him, as he clings to my bare leg like a lifeline. He isn’t used to this many people, I know the feeling. “Um,” I hesitate. “You want to go see the swingset Uncle Zeek put in the back for the kids?” she asks. Cole looks up at me and I reluctantly nod.

“Just for a second,” I give in, knowing I’ll be out there in two seconds to watch over things. I will cut a motherfucker for even looking in his direction in a way I don’t like. Feeling heat on my neck, I turn finding Dolly leaning against a wall, her arms crossed and eyes directly on me. She doesn’t like me, at all. I wrap my lips around the tip of my beer and stare back at her. I really want to play with that bitch. Maybe take her into the bunker, tie her up and whip that fucking look off her face. Strong arms wrap around me, the smell of Machete making me take a deep breath. I can’t help the smirk that kicks up on my face. He is my man and lets every woman here know it. I turn in his grasp and wrap my hands around his neck. Green fiery eyes looking down at me. “I know that look.” He tilts his head to the side, and I bite back my laugh. He know’s the rebel woman in me wants to come out and play. He brushes the apple of my cheek, the heat in his touch making me come alive. “Stay evil, baby,” he mutters, and my heart

pitter-patters at our demons dancing together. “The club looks great,” I smile, trying to change the subject. Having someone know you better than anyone can be intimidating at times. “Where are Simone and Kane?” I look around, noticing they’re not here. When it came time to, I was pushed aside for the club to take over those matters. I hate being the woman sometimes. “Mac is on it,” he mumbles against my cheek, his hands touching me wherever he can. It’s like he can’t get enough of me. Mac? I wonder what they did with them? “You want to see my room,” he winks, and I can’t help but smile and nod. He laughs, and everyone looks at him as he grabs my hand and pulls me down the hallway. My brows rising at Dolly in passing. Once inside he slams the door and pushes me up against it, his mouth smashing to mine. I don’t even get a chance to see the room he’s so hungry for me. His tongue pushes through my lips, the taste of beer and chips filling my mouth, it’s fucking delicious. I moan into the deep kiss, and his hands tighten on my waist.

“Say you’ll forever be mine, Raven,” he pulls his mouth from mine, our noses brushing. His lips turning into a wolfish smile. “Machete, you are my one and only madness, I’m all yours,” I whisper. The way he stares deep into my eyes, his face serious and grip tightening I know now that he’d rather die, or see me dead than let me be anything else but his. I love that kind of love. One full of madness, insanity, and more passion than any normal couple could understand. Good thing we’re far from normal. THE END

Thank you for reading! I hope you loved it as much as I did, and are very excited for the next book! If you did enjoy it, tell a friend, or leave a review! I’d love it!

Sneak Peek into Sin City 5 Mac THE CHICK WITH PURPLE hair bobs and slurps on my dick. I can’t remember her name, who cares. Lowering my head back I close my eyes and take a drag of my blunt. My fingers are sticky from the electrical tape on them as I was working on a project for the club. I was putting GPS on all our bikes. That’s what I do, I’m the tech guy. A knock at the door has me lifting my head. Machete enters, his red hair everywhere and his crazy fucking eyes landing on the bitch bobbing up and down on my dick. “Zeek wants you,” he informs. The woman lifts her head to glance at Machete, and I gently press on the back of her head, putting my cock back into her mouth. She’s not done yet. “I’ll be there in a second,” I tell him, watching the bitch slob on my dick. Suddenly the girl scrapes her teeth on the tip,

and I wince. “You’re done. Fuck!” I pull away from her. “Sorry, I’m not used to sucking on a pierced dick,” she informs with a ditzy tone, wiping off her mouth with her hand. Shifting onto her hands, her small tits come into view. Getting off the bed I pull my pants up, I need to get to church before Zeek comes after me. Last time he made me sit in church naked. “You want to fuck though?” she nearly begs, I chuckle in reply. “Got business, babe,” I smile, grab my phone off the end table and head into the chapel. The club smells decent as it was just rebuilt, the smell of pussy and beer gone. We will have to work on that. Heading into the room, all eyes are on me as I enter. I pull the blunt from my mouth and frown. “What?” Zeek smiles. “Have a seat,” he gestures toward my seat at the end of the table. Slowly I make my way to my seat, not liking the tension in the room.

“What?” I ask again. “Simone is staying with us. You are to watch her, keep her safe—” “Take her shopping for diapers,” Felix adds before laughing, and the rest of the men follow. “You’re fucking kidding!” I bark, standing where I sit. How am I going to fuck bitches and do drugs with a pregnant chick around. “I’m not. That may be Gatz’s child in there and we are going to make sure she has everything she needs. Pack your bags, buddy.” Zeek laughs, slamming the gavel down. I rub my hand over the stubble on my chin. I can’t fucking believe this. A biker and a pregnant chick. This should be fucking interesting.

I want to thank EVERYONE who has read this book – this series! Writing this book has been so fucking exciting, and seriously might be my favorite book I’ve written to date! My team is to thank making this possible. My husband, for not leaving me when I told him some of my twisted ideas for this book. My kids were champs when I told them I had to write before we could play. My betas, they really helped me make this book shine. Pushed me where I needed to be pushed, and helped me see my characters for what they really are. Screwed up! My editor Ellie McLove, is a fucking beast at what she does and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I want to thank the bloggers, readers, and my street team for helping me promote this book. Your shares, word of mouth, and just reading my work makes my dreams come true.

The Rock Stars Of Romance, Lisa. I love you for everything you do for me!

DEVIL’S DUST MC SERIES What Doesn't Destroy Us (Devil's Dust Book 1) The Scars That Define Us (Devil's Dust Book 2) The Fear That Divides Us (Devil's Dust Book 3) The Lies Between Us (Devil's Dust Book 4) What Might Kill Us (Devil's Dust Book 5) SIN CITY OUTLAWS MC SERIES Reign (Sin City Outlaws MC 1) Mercy (Sin City Outlaws MC 2) Retaliate (Sin City Outlaws MC 3) STANDALONES Love Tap Plus One Stalk her on Facebook Sign up for her newsletter