Page 85 of Cruel Biker

“I figured,” Venom said.

“You can stay here, keep watching her, and when she’s awake, you’ll struggle to get everything right, or you can come with me.”

“Where?” Venom asked.

“To the ranch. The bodies are gone, but the mess is still there. Broken windows, some water damage to the floorboards. Also, I have a feeling it would help you to hunt for the Karamazov.”

“I ... left her,” he said.

“You were doing what you could to end the threat to her life. You had no way of knowing what they would do. None of us did.”

“It doesn’t make it right,” Venom said.

“And it doesn’t make it wrong. My daughter will not hold this against you. You need to get out of this hospital, have a proper shower, and some real food. Not hospital food.”

“It is real food.”

“You need more, Venom. You’re wasting away, and I will not have my daughter waking up from a coma, seeing you like this. You’ve got two choices—walk out of this hospital, or I drag you out, and you don’t have a lot of strength to fight me.”

Venom wanted to argue. But he looked at Gus. The ranch was a mess, he knew that because Bolt had tried to lure him out of the hospital.

“I can’t leave her. We know the Karamazov are still out there,” Venom said.

“That’s why I’m here,” Diesel said. “And we have a timetable. I will not leave this door. I promise you, I will protect her, and I will supervise every single doctor and nurse that comes into this room.”

Any new nurse or doctor had to present their arms, so he could see if they carried the Karamazov barcode.

He took a deep breath and nodded, but he didn’t feel relieved.

Venom got to his feet and moved in closer to Morwenna. “I’ve got to go and help the others. I’m going to put our house back to right, and I am also going to have everything prepared so that when you’re ready, you can marry me as soon as you wake up.” He pressed a kiss to her lips. “I love you, Morwenna.”

He pulled away, and as he did so, it was like a kick to the gut. He didn’t want to leave her.

And yet, he looked back, and Morwenna was still hooked up to machines and she was not moving, just her chest moving up and down. She was not dead. She was just not here with him.

****

One Month Later

Between dealing with different Karamazov, as well as the Romano Mafia, Venom had been able to narrow down exactly who Vincent Karamazov was. There was not a lot of information about him, however, there was a picture of him taken over thirty years ago, and he memorized that picture.

Vincent had been nineteen, with his whole life ahead of him, thinking he was going to be his father’s right-hand man. A beast by all accounts. Fearless. Willing to do whatever it took to kill.

He was a man with no moral code. No boundaries. It was why he had killed men, women, children, and pets. Venom drew the line at children and pets. They were still young, and so innocent. Vincent was not like him.

He snuck into the piece-of-shit’s apartment. It was a nice suite, with a view. Not only did the Karamazov annihilate entire organizations and families, they stole that wealth for themselves. They fed off of it, and everyone was too afraid to follow that scent, but Venom and the Evil Dwellers MC were not. The club was waiting for his call.

Vincent was a cocky bastard, even in his fifties, he thought he was untouchable. He didn’t have a wife or kids, because the Bortova Bratva had cut off his balls, literally. It was part of his sixteen-year-old punishment for being a bastard. Venom didn’t know how Gus had gotten his facts, but Vincent had been castrated like a dog. From what he was told, his father’s wife didn’t like the respect Vincent was getting. She was afraid of him, and to put him in his place, she demanded he not be given the same status as her own son. So, to stop the line of whore and husband, they castrated him. He still had a dick, but he was not firing anything to make a woman pregnant.

Vincent Karamazov was treated worse than an animal, and they had created a monster they were not able to keep in any cage. That beast had manifested into what he was today. Almost that of a ghost whose name instilled fear into anyone that heard it.

Venom was not afraid. Vincent Karamazov was still a man, a living, breathing man, but he’d gotten sloppy. He believed he was powerful, that the name Karamazov filled so many with fear that no one would come after him.

The apartment was in darkness, but Venom sat in the man’s chair as he entered his penthouse suite, wearing a suit. The man had just been on a date, blending in, making everyone believe he was a lonely businessman rather than a man whose army was gone. He was trying to build it up again. Recruiting rejects or disgruntled assholes that had some kind of revenge in mind. That is what Vincent offered them—follow him, and their dreams of sweet revenge would come true.

However, the power of the Karamazov had shifted. No one was afraid as they all knew the truth. The Karamazov were dying, piece by piece.

But Vincent was not taking any of it. He did not see his group of men dying out. He saw them as thriving.