Tyrant (Satan’s Angels MC #1)

Chapter 19

Tyrant

I have to hand it to this band of fuckers, they sure have their torture down pat.

I’ve tried to keep track of the days. In this old, abandoned trapper’s cabin with the gaping windows and crooked door, it’s not hard to see the rising and setting of the sun, but I keep losing consciousness.

It became clear to me that this is the outcome my father wanted. I’m the example. I’m the message. Fuck with Zale Grand at your own peril. He decides if you live or die. It’s clear he wants me alive, but barely.

As soon as I was lifted like a limp sack into the back of that pickup, there was a huge bald man very aptly called Doc, who was there to make sure I didn’t bleed out. I’m not sure what he did because he gave me an injection I would have fought if I’d seen it coming. I was out until I woke up here, my finger bandaged. All I taste is blood, but I don’t know if that’s from the continuous beatings, cuts, and burns or not. Doc kept popping back in and out of this sagging one room cabin after the same two creepy bastards torturing me had their fill. He’d take care of their handiwork, keeping me alive for more.

It’s clear they’re doing it for the sheer fucking pleasure of it because they haven’t asked me a single question about the club.

The door bangs open, disturbing the way I keep slipping in and out of the fog. My one eye is completely swollen, but I have a bit of vision through a slit in the other. I have no idea what time it is. The sun isn’t quite gone yet. They’ve chained me to a sturdy chair—hands, chest, legs.

I make out the features of the one man who steps in through the sagging door. I expect the same two psychopaths who have enjoyed every minute of their work, but this man is different. Blond and tall, he looks more like a football quarterback than a biker.

“It’s your lucky day. We’re rolling out.” The blond giant strides over, grabs my blood caked hair and wrenches my head back.

Pain flares through my whole body, but nothing could hurt worse than the knowledge of what I’ve done to my club. To Lark and Penny. To Raiden. To Hart as a whole. I’ve brought the devil down on them.

The stupid part is that I know I fucked up, but if I had to do it again, I would. I’d just be better prepared. I’m still asking myself how this can be my father. How he could order this, how he could do this to me. How can this be the man who raised me? The man who looked me in the eye and gave his word? How could he even think about cutting down his own brothers?

“Prez said to leave a message, so here it is.”

He produces a stapler—something you’d see on an office desk—out of his back pocket. I close my eyes, the snap and crunch of paper unfolding is loud in the quiet ruins of the house. Knock Off Superhero Fuckface rams the stapler into my forehead three times. It should hurt like the devil, but all I get is a little twinge. Thank god it’s not the industrial kind. It’s probably shock that numbs me out. Maybe it’s because I’ve already had pliers and pincers, blow torches, a poker used as a brand, brass knuckles, and box cutters used on me.

Payment for saving my dad’s life, I guess.

“Don’t worry. They’ll find you soon enough. They’ve already been given coordinates and they’ll be on their way. Give your club and your woman our regards. That is, if they should want you back. You’re not so pretty now, not by half. See you around, junior Grand.” He hocks and spits on me. It coats my face, wet and warm.

I don’t even attempt to shake it off. It’s all I can do to try and stay conscious.

The loud roar of a bike kicks up after the bastard exits, but there’s only one. The rest have gone ahead of him or are waiting somewhere for him to catch up.

As the last of the weak sunlight fades, plunging the cabin into darkness, I listen to the cacophony of insects. There’s even an owl out there somewhere, hooting in the distance. I’m sure that I’m closer to the mountains than the city, because no one would locate a cabin like this near civilization. It’s late in the year for them, but a few fireflies rush in through the windows, since there isn’t any glass to speak of. I watch as they arc and dip, smearing light through the darkness.

My stomach contracts at that little miracle of light that makes me feel like I’m not alone out here. All I can do is hold onto the hope that my brothers will come for me, and they will still be my brothers.

What feels like hours later, I’m struggling hard not to fade out. My head is a mess. My mouth is thick and metallic. I can’t feel my body anymore and the numbness scares me. Is this what happens right before you die? Am I bleeding out somewhere and I’m not even conscious of it? Am I dying from my injuries? From infection?

I’m near delirious, the pain carrying me in and out of that little cabin to some place dark and sweet beyond, when I hear the first low grumbles of an armada of bikes in the distance. I’d know that sound anywhere. It’s been a part of me since I was in the womb and a part of my blood for three generations.

I try to hold onto consciousness, but I don’t get a decision in the dark closing in. Even though my brothers are coming for me, even though they’ll find me and take me back to Hart, to my life, to Lark and Penny, I still succumb to the blackness.

***

When I jerk myself back out of it, I know some time has passed because there are brothers everywhere. Denim and black leather, our lovely fallen angel weeping her tears for me, my brothers, rough saviors in even rougher bodies. Bullet is loaded down with guns, a rifle strapped to his back and several on his hips and front. He came with enough firepower for every single brother, but they’re all armed as well. Atlas with his Hollywood good looks, Scythe, Reckless, Crow, Gunner, Odin, Axe… they’re all here.

I search the room for Raiden, the brother I’ve loved more than my own self and wounded the most. I don’t see him.

After days of torture, his absence is what brings a wounded, horrific wail out of my mouth.

“Brother.” His voice in my ear is the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. “Just cutting these fucking chains off. Stay still. We’ve got you.”

Raiden’s behind me. That’s why I can’t see him. I hear it now, the snapping of metal. I feel the chains go tight and then slack.

“Fucking animals,” Bullet curses as he tears the note off my forehead. The staples come with it. He unfolds it as I struggle to get the rising nausea climbing my throat under control. The other brothers in the cabin freeze, the air thick with the scents of them. Familiar scents. They smell like home. It makes me want to weep. “When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be waiting.” Bullet’s deep voice gives life to my father’s words. “Jesus Christ. There’s a number and then they’ve listed everything they’ve done to him and what treatments and injections he’s been given.”

He crumples the paper in his fist, but Gunner steps forward, grabbing it. “We’re taking him right to Archer and he’s going to need that.” He pockets the paper and crouches down in front of me, putting his hand on my knee. I think we all know that Gunner is a legit psychopath, but at the moment, those cold dead eyes are the most beautiful set I’ve ever seen.

Now that the chains around my chest and hands are undone, I realize they’re the only thing that was holding me upright.

I sag forward, but Raiden’s suddenly there, replacing Gunner. It’s his arms that I fall into. I want to tell him that I’m sorry for hurting him. Betraying him. I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect Lark and Penny. They watched everything. What happened has probably scarred my daughter for life. They should run. They should run and run and never come back here. They should stay far away from me.

I make frantic noises that sound more like a wolf with its leg caught in a trap than a human man.

“Shhh.” Raiden talks to me like I’m a little kid, humming low under his breath. He heaves me up, supporting me with his shoulder and upper body, helping me like that day when he hauled my ass off to the clinic for those migraines, five lifetimes ago, before I knew how much was going to change. How much would be given back to me and how much would be stripped away. “Lark told me everything.” I can’t see his face, but the roughness in his voice betrays his emotion. “We’re got you, Prez. We had a meeting, you’ve paid whatever penance was deserved a thousand times over. We’ve lived in a time of peace where our club ruled, and that might be over now, but we’re ready for what’s coming next. We’ve got you.”

Hot tears flow down my cheek. Maybe both. I can’t feel the other side of my face.

Raiden’s arm bands around my chest and he pretty much carries me out under his own weight. I want to walk, but my feet are heavy and uncoordinated.

His truck is there outside, which means there must be an old corduroy road, mud and log beaten down, to this place. He made it through in that asshole of a truck that barely runs.

He made it through.

It’s what finally causes me to break down. I’m barely conscious, but I’m awake enough to sob. Loudly. The sounds chills my own blood.

Raiden cracks the door open and gets me onto the seat. He straps the belt over me to keep me in place. “Gray,” he hisses thickly, barely in control himself. His hands are warm and rough on my face. “You had better stay the fuck with me here. Lark’s waiting for you. Penny too. My sister needs her man, and that little girl needs a father. Don’t you dare even think about checking out.”

Christ, do I really look that bad?

Probably worse.

“I should hate you, but it’s not possible.” I can’t see, but his voice is wrong, it’s rougher. “Lark told me everything, but there’s a lot that needs to be said… fuck. We’ll figure it out. You’ve got the whole club behind you, and we will always be brothers, you hear me?”

I want to nod, but there’s a buzzing in my ears that turns into a different kind of roar, not the sound of bikes being kicked to life. More like an ocean crashing in around me. Waves and fire and then a black, deep, starless night.