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It’s like he knows. He knows how much she didn’t want to be an Ol’ Lady.
O.
The tingling on my face becomes stronger, impossible to ignore. My mouth grows so dry that I couldn’t spit to save my life. Pirate’s dark chuckle slides down my neck, and I turn to meet his heavy gaze. His lips pull back—in a sneer or a smile. Who the fuck even knows. But it means bad things. What are you gonna do?
The light catches his dagger as he stares me down. My fuckin’ father twirls the sharp iron, chuckling maniacally to himself. Without hesitation, he jabs out with it, slicing it across my forearm. The same forearm that’s still bleeding from where he shot me earlier. Pain radiates from the wound, and I grunt at the new injury. He smiles at the streak of blood on the blade, then lunges forward, stabbing it into the table an inch from my hand.
F.
“Property of The Demon Breakers,” he says, gripping my cut with startling speed and pulling harder than I ever thought possible.
My body flies back, arms snapping out a moment too late to stop my trajectory. Wolf grunts as I slam into him—hard. His arms band around me like anacondas, squeezing tighter and tighter as I struggle. A roar fills my ears, pounding and pulsing.
“Didn’t want to share your little bitch with us, did you, baby VP?” he hisses. “Well, fuck you.”
Pirate looms over Trinity, who’s still being held down by my brothers. Confusion fills their faces, eyes ping-ponging between me and their President—completely unsure of what to do. Prick silences the tattoo gun and the abrupt death of the buzzing leaves the room in an eerie silence.
“Turn that the hell back on,” Pirate says, his voice low and threatening. “Finish her mark. Property of the Demon Breakers. This bitch is going to serve the club with all her holes until I decide to put one through her head…just like her traitor father.”
Prick stares back at Pirate with ice in his eyes.
“Fuck you. I’m the VP. I claimed her so you can’t give her to them,” I shout over the screaming in my ears.
“I can do whatever the fuck I want. In this club, I’m the mother fucking king,” he snarls at me, amusement lighting his eyes as I struggle in Wolf’s grip. His arms tighten, slamming me hard against the table, and a startled moan escapes me as all the air whooshes from my lungs. My mouth opens, and I inhale desperately, but my inability to breathe has stolen my voice. Bucking my hips, I thrash, kicking at Wolf with all my might.
I need to get free. I need to save her if it’s the last thing I do.
“Do it,” Pirate grits his teeth, seething as Prick glares at him, crossing his thick arms over his chest. Hunter, Charming, and Shaka have all released my girl. No longer being held down, she twists, slipping along Venom’s cut until she’s fully on the table before sitting up and clasping my blood-splattered shirt to her breasts. Her eyes are wide with fear, wild in their uncertainty, like a cornered animal deciding to fight or flee. She doesn’t even look my way, too far gone. Or perhaps too angry.
“This isn’t the way we do things,” a gravelly voice speaks up from across the room, causing steam to billow from Pirate’s ears. No one speaks out against him. No one defies the deadly leader of our club and lives to tell about it. No one until tonight.
Tomb, our goliath of a Sergent at Arms, stands with his arms across his chest. The muscles flex and ripped cords of veins stand out. Never in my life has Tomb ever done anything besides back up the Prez. But the frown on his face shows anger instead of fear.
The room erupts into whispers of discontent, and hope leaps in my chest. With a hard shove, I finally lift myself off the table. “Get the fuck off me,” I threaten, twisting away from Wolf.
Pirate blinks hard twice
“Turn that fuckin’ thing on,” he snarls again at Prick, rage swimming in his eyes when my friend shakes his head. His hand reaches toward his back, sliding behind his cut to the Glock located there. No fucking way.
“What, you’re going to kill us all for having opinions?” I shout, trying to distract him. I can’t be the reason another person I love dies tonight. The brothers shift around the room, clearly uncomfortable that our President was considering shooting yet another brother. Especially one so many of us are close to. Prick’s tattooed everyone in the club and is loved by all.
Murmurs and grumbling break out among them. The tide of displeasure and discomfort cresting and slamming against everyone’s conscience. We ride under the guise of brotherhood—but we were never meant to be mindless foot soldiers for the Prez.
“Let’s put it to a vote,” Tomb tosses out calmly, drawing Pirate’s attention back to him. “We’re brothers. And a claiming is a claiming. We should have a say if the rules are changing.”
“Fine,” Pirate snaps, surging forward and grabbing Trinity by the leg before yanking her down the table. She lets loose a scream that will haunt my dreams forever. Chilling, blood-curdling, and filled with fear.
Her head cracks against the edge as he pulls her off it, dropping her to the cold cement ground so hard that the thud from the impact causes my brothers’ eyes to widen around the room. Dread pools in my gut.
This isn’t going to end well…
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
TRINITY
The floor rushes up to meet me, and I barely have a second to put my hands out to break my fall. Everything feels floaty, hazy—like it’s happening to someone else. Some poor girl who should have been smarter. Who should have steered clear of bikers and their murderous kind. Not the daughter of the VP of one of the most notorious bike clubs in the country.
People don’t fuck with me. Hell, it’s hard to even get people to talk to me.
