Page 7 of All's Fair in Love & Wrath

“Fuck you. That’s all you’re getting from him,” the first one yells. Ooo, I wince, my face contorting. Bad decision, dude.

“Ohhh, Jason, you are not a smart man. That’s okay. Your buddy here can watch while I have my play time,” Malice taunts as he steps forward again. The slices and stabs start out methodical, but then something changes, and he loses all control and finesse. Sin and I shake our heads at each other, and I can’t stop looking down at the lack of drain in the center of the room.

The guy next to Jason vomits, as well as two other prospects, but it’s better they see this shit now so we can weed them out. While our club has legitimate businesses, and we do what’s right ninety-five percent of the time, this carnage is needed to keep things in check. We don’t shy away from it.

Malice doesn’t stop until Jason’s entrails are hanging out of his stomach and stretching down to the floor, his face a hollow sphere. I think the only part of him he left intact is his brain.

Sin steps up to the other guy who’s about to pass out. “You will die tonight, no matter what. But how you leave this plane is going to depend on what you know and if you’re willing to divulge that information,” Sin tells him calmly. Malice throws his hands up in the air like he’s irritated, and I have to hide my smile again. Crazy fucker.

“Rolo’s brother is the new president of the Kingsnakes. He wanted him dead. Our job was to get in and get out.”

Fucking shit, this just got a whole helluva lot worse.

“So why the fuck did you stick around?”

“’Cause you fuckingfeedus.” That piques my interest.

“You don’t get food where you came from? You thought you’d just come in here, kill our brother, and you could just stay so you didn’t have to go hungry? Fuck you. Where are they?”

“Clubhouse is a few hours west, on the coast, but I don’t remember where. I was a new recruit, not from around here.”

“Sure you don’t. That all?”

He nods, and then Chaos turns, his eyes meeting Saige’s, giving her a subtle nod. I know this is going to piss Malice right off. Ever since Chaos brought Saige and her stabby self into the clubhouse, she and Mal have hit it off. But they seem to be in a bit of a friendly competition when it comes to kills.

Saige walks up to him and runs her knife across his neck from ear to ear with a perfectly clean slice. Blood gushes from the wound, opening it up further and spilling down his chest. He gurgles and shakes, his eyes wide and scared.

“Always the same,” Saige mutters, unimpressed, rolling her eyes. “Evil men are the weakest.”

“Shave all their heads. Every single one of them is going to be bald by nightfall. I don’t care if you have to tie them down; check them all. We don’t sleep until we know everyone under this roof isn’t affiliated with the fucking Kingsnakes,” Chaos shouts as he grabs Saige around the waist and hauls her out of the room.

Alright. Let’s get this shit over with. Time to weed out the snakes and then get the prospects to clean up the fucking mess.

Chapter Three

SIENNA

Iknew my life would never be the same after what Cain did to me. Even after he went to prison, I knew he took a piece of me that I’d never get back. That’s what men like him do. It can’t be enough that they violently enter and use our bodies without permission, not enough to violate us in the most personal and intimate way. No, their egos and fragile male pride won’t allow them to walk away without making sure they leave a long-lasting scar on us, whether on our souls or our skin. Cain made sure I had both.

Evil tends to hide in plain sight, masked as a friend, a coworker, a sibling, a parent, a politician, or a priest. In my situation, he was a ranked member of the Kingsnakes Motorcycle Club, the club my father was the president of. The Kingsnakes aren’t one percenters, or at least they weren’t. That’s all changed now. They were a club our small town of Autumn Bay was actually proud of. Contributing members of society, good people who really just cared about our families and doing what’s right, serving our community the best they could.

That was before. And I guess to really understand what happened here, what happened tome. You’d have to go back to the beginning. Back to where envy and rivalry festered until it reincarnated something truly wicked and evil.

Before

“You are not going out there dressed like that.”

“Newsflash, you dumb fucker, I’m eighteen now. I can do whatever I want.”

“Yeah, but you’ll always be my little sister, and you look like a patch bunny, not the daughter of the president. Dad will freak the fuck out, and you’ll be lucky if you get to go to another party.”

“He can try all he wants,Saint; that’s not going to stop me,” I snap at my older brother. He stands at the door of my bedroom at a massive six foot-four, with his arms crossed over his big, broad chest, eyes squinted into slits as he glares my way.Idiot. He has no effect on me. I study my reflection in the mirror, the short denim skirt that barely covers my ass, my long, toned legs that lead down to a pair of espadrille wedge sandals, tied around my ankles. I’ve cut the neck straight off a black T-shirt so it hangs off my shoulder, giving an eyeful of some skin without showing too much. Because as much as my brother is annoying, he’s not completely wrong, and I don’t have a death wish when it comes to my overprotective dad. I don’t care if I look like a patch bunny. They’re independent, confident women, and that’s exactly the look I’m going for tonight. He says it like it’s a bad thing, but all I did was take it as a compliment.

I fluff my red hair, the curls already falling loose. I love my hair, the red makes me stand out, and I’ve always enjoyed how different it is from all the other girls. I look just like my mom,having inherited her bright-red locks, pouty lips, and light, sky-blue eyes. The older I get, the harder it is to tell us apart. As opposed to my brother, who looks nothing like either of our parents. Something I like to joke about and remind him of. He’s got a head of dark hair, and eyes so dark brown, they could pass for pitch-black. He’s strong and muscular, which all the girls love, including my friends, who have been fawning over him since puberty smacked us in the face.

Happy with my appearance, I swipe my lip gloss from my desk and head straight for the door, ready to face off with my meathead brother.

“Change,” he demands, his voice low and every bit as lethal as it sounds. Too bad I know how mushy he is inside, and he would never hurt me. Or any woman for that matter.