Page 78 of Where Angels Fall

“My club,” he murmurs through gritted teeth. “My men. My Angel.”

A gasp hitches in my throat at his words. The fear causes my skin to raise and a tremble begins in my hands. But as per usual, the fear causes a spark of excitement.

And that’s the scariest part of it all.

That I’m standing in room that smells like murder, and my pussy is aching to be filled by the man covered in blood in front of me.

I know it’s sick…I’m sick.

“This…” I pant, trying to find the will to do what any other normal person would do. “I can’t be a part of this…this world…I can’t…I’m just…” My breath comes out in fast, panicked heaves of my chest as I fumble for the right words, if there even are any right words for this scenario.

Ash’s eyes darken as his top lip curls with anger. “You’re just what? Just not brave enough? Not strong enough? What are you trying to say, Maddison,” he growls.

The distance between us feels like a stretching canyon, not a few metres of bloodied wood.

“I’m scared!” I whimper.

“Good. You should be,” Ash growls back. “Be scared...but just know, It’s too late. You are already a part of this world. You have been the minute you walked into the club, with your little heels and innocent eyes.”

A lone tear trails down my cheek as his words set in. Words I already know are true, deep down.

I can’t speak. My mouth is dry, my chest tight, and yet every nerve in my body hums. I feel myself inching closer to him, drawn in by his presence, his smell, the danger he radiates.

“Show me you’re mine…Prove to me that your fear only makes you mine. Get on your fucking knees,” Ash grinds out.

My nails dig into the skin of my fingers, my eyes dropping to the pool of blood on the ground before me.

“I said on your fucking knees.” His voice turns into something dangerous.

Two hands press onto my shoulders, gripping tight as they push me down. I turn back and see Griff behind me. He stares cold and unforgiving as my knees hit the warm life source of the man who just got dragged out. Pain flares in my knees and my stomach roils. The blood is still warm. It soaks into my skirt, thick and heavy, the smell clogging all of my senses.

“Now crawl,” he adds. “Crawl to your leader.”

My head shakes, eyes falling to blood in front of me. In it, I see my reflection staring back at me.

What am I doing? Why am I here? Why does every muscle in my body beg me to crawl to the predator in front of me.

When I finally look up, Ash is standing tall and foreboding, watching and waiting. Like he already knows that I’m going to do what he has asked. Dark hair matted with blood sticks to his forehead; blood splattered onto his face.

The neon light behind him illuminates him in a shroud of red. The Devil he is, on full display.

“I can’t,” I whisper on a sigh. Because I know what happens when I do, and I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to come back from it.

“You can and you will,” he grits out. “It's about fucking time you proved you were all in. I am your leader. I am the president of the Devils. When you're in this club, you'll do what I fucking say.”

His voice is lethal, and the darkness in his eyes has my hands falling forward into the sticky mess. A tear finally escapes past my lashes, as I place one hand in front of the other. My hips sway, as I slowly make my way to him, blood soaking my skin and clothes in a way that I know will stain forever.

Each hand forward feels monumental. Each knee sliding through the thick substance feels deadly. I crawl to him. To this killer. The leader. Stopping only when I see his dark boots in my vision. Yet, I don’t look up. I remain on my hands and knees; head hung between my shoulders as I fall apart on the ground before him.

“Look at me,” he murmurs softly, but I can’t.

I’m too weak. Too scared. Too lost.

A rough hand fists my hair, pulling me back until I’m on my knees, a pained cry falling past my lips. The man who I assume is Griff grips me painfully, forcing my neck to twist up so that my eyes are on the wild man in front of me.

In a haze of anger, I fight his grip, but it’s impossible, his fingers tightening in my strands until pain blooms over my scalp.

Tears stream down my face as I glare at Ash, finally a feeling other than fear blossoming in my chest. Anger has me gritting my teeth, hands fisting at my sides.