Page 5 of Diary of a Biker Queen

I hadn’t held a knife like this in so long.

But my body hadn’t forgotten how.

I plunged it into the side of Barclay’s neck once, pulled it out, and then watched the blood flow with the sick fascination of the man I’d once been.

Then did it again.

And again.

Blood spattered across my face, my hands, my chest. Hot and thick, but I couldn’t stop. Now that I’d started, there was no end.

Not until he stopped moving.

And when he finally did, I dragged my blade across his back, carving five marks in his skin.

The chaos fell silent. I glanced up, and every set of eyes was focused on me. The kid, whose fingers I’d threatened to break, stared at me in open-mouthed shock.

He stumbled back so far and so fast, trying to get away from me while he shook from head to toe. “They’re claw marks,” he stuttered, head whipping side to side, like he needed someone else to help him. “He’s carving claw marks in his back! Don’t you know what they mean? He’s the Lynx Killer.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, head pounding so hard it hurt to have them open. It was like my thoughts bounced off my skull, ricocheting around until every part was dented and broken.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” I all but growled. I stared down at myself, at the bloodbath I’d created.

I wanted more. And none of it all at the same time.

My grip on the knife tightened, and the overwhelming need to use it again rose so swiftly it may as well have been a noose around my neck, cutting off my oxygen.

I didn’t want to kill the kid. But he was the closest fucking thing still breathing. I lunged forward, stumbling over the uneven stone floor, my knife needing to make purchase on someone. Something.

“Lynx!”

I blinked, Nyah’s voice the only thing that could cut through the haze.

Everything else was a blur, unfocused shadows of people moving around me, but nobody daring to come closer. No one but her. She reached my side, and instinctively, I wrapped my free arm around her, her back to my chest, holding her close to me so no one could touch her.

“Stop,” she whispered, her warm breath kissing the skin on my forearm.

My body moved in time with hers. My chest rising and falling at the same rate hers did until I could breathe again. Focus. Actually take in the carnage I’d caused while a roomful of men stared at me, guns drawn, all of them waiting on their commander to give the order to shoot.

A slow clap broke through the silence, and MacGregor stood. His hands smacked against each other, over and over, quickening the pace until he was giving me a standing ovation I never wanted.

“Fucking impressive, lad. Fucking impressive. I am entertained.”

I spat on the floor between us, showing him exactly what I thought of his entertainment, the details of what I’d done already so hazy I couldn’t comprehend them. “Fuck you. Go to hell.”

He raised a bushy eyebrow. “After that little display, I think I’ll be seeing you there. Don’t you?”

I was well aware of where I’d end up after I took my last breath. For all I had been trying to turn over a new leaf since I’d gotten out of prison and joined the Slayers, I knew who I was. What I was.

Carlos stared at me with a new interest. Like he’d had absolutely no idea of the things I was capable of.

Nobody did. Nobody except the people who’d died at my hands. And Reaper, who’d found me in a similar state once in prison and had covered my tracks without me so much as even asking for his help.

But there were others, whose dead bodies bore my mark. Left to rot in shallow graves.

My gaze met Luca’s, and he held it for a second, before shaking his head. “I guess I know what you went to prison for now.”

It was almost comical that it wasn’t what I’d gone to prison for at all. That I’d evaded law enforcement after every kill, even though I could barely remember them. But the thing that had been my undoing was a fucking breaking and entering that should have been a simple in-and-out job.