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The Druid. And how to kill him takes my focus.
I open the throttle wider on my bike and roar through the night. My headlight flashes off the white stripes marking the center of the road as I hit top speed down the winding road leading back to the city. Each curve I lean into I can feel the tension and stress ease from between my shoulder blades.
Holding Asena through the tears tore at the hole in the center of my chest and did far more damage to me than the bullet I took there. It also gave me plenty of time to think about the many ways I can return the favor and sink a bullet into the Druid’s brain for all the shit he’s brought to her world. And mine.
But first I have to find him before I kill him and to do that, I need INTEL.
None of the Savages are holy men and we each have sins on our dockets that will be judged when the time comes to meet our maker. The lines we ride are gray at best. But between you and me, ridding this city of a man like the Druid is something I’ll do no matter the cost.
I open the throttle and embrace the bite of cool air on my face. Doc nearly fell over when I came downstairs and headed straight for my bike. I’ll have to remember to give Casanova a fresh bottle of his favorite vodka as a thank you for bringing my baby home from Asylum for me.
I was a fool to sit back and just let shit be. I thought I could step away from the violence for the most part but that has only caused more pain in the end.
I throttle down when I hit city limits. Cruising through New York at night is one of my favorite ways to bleed out the stress and just be in the moment. Between my legs, my baby purrs hard and heavy. Around me, I can feel the eyes of both men and women tracking my progression through traffic. The news cycle has yet to remove their teeth from our asses so the looks I’m getting are for the cut I’m wearing. Before Ares’ brother threw us into the limelight no one cared about the biker crew beyond getting into our casino or club. Now they throw up their smartphones hoping to get a snapshot of us everywhere we go.
I slow when Asylum comes into view. The large neon sign sends equal amounts of apprehension and comfort through me. The Druid isn’t someone I want to go up against without a plan in place. Our last surprise encounter will be the last time I’m unprepared.
Doc had a shit fit when I cranked up my girl and batted away his concern. He’s always going off about stitches and taking it easy. I’ll do that when I’m dead. A little pain lets me know I haven’t killed over yet. I take a quieter side road and roll up to a small keypad outside a garage door. Five minutes later I’m in the same elevator Asena dragged my bleeding body out of less than a week prior.
Pent up inside the metal box I’ve ridden in for years almost on a nightly basis, I am unprepared for the howl of raging memories when they grip my insides and yank me under.
Sweat coats my palms when I brace my hand on the wall of the elevator and try to breathe through it. But the abrasive cleaner used to clean up my blood weaves into my brain and I’m thrown right back into the night I witnessed my father steal a man’s life.
That night I stopped being a boy.
My chest tightens. I’ve had years to learn how to handle the flashbacks, but truth be told, nothing any doctor has ever told me helps. I just have to ride them out.
Blood pools on the wooden floor and like a maze rats run, the thick, dark liquid follows the grooves of the boards.
I can’t tear my eyes away from it.
“Take this boy. Clean it up before the badges come.”
Badges. People who should protect us.
I look at my hands. A plastic bucket, a filthy rag, and bleach are shoved into my hands, and the stench of the liquid under my nose burns. I stumble back, landing in the lifeblood of my father’s victim. Breathing becomes too hard to manage. White dots fill my vision.
Raging eyes turn on me. Wrath slams into my face and all I can do is take the blows.
“Fucking idiot. Snap the hell out of it. How do you plan on taking my place if you can’t handle some blood? Just like your weak mother. Don’t miss a spot, boy or you’ll be joining this one.”
The harsh echo of my father’s voice and painful fists chases me into the present. Restrictive bands keeping me from breathing in deeply slowly loosen. Cool air rushes into my starved lungs and I suck back as much as I can take.
“Damn it,” I roar and press the pads of my thumbs into my eyes, but nothing I do erases the dead stare of the man my father killed from my sight. Or cleanses the stench of blood and bleach from my memory.
“I am not him. I am not him!”
Fire shoots up my good arm as I slam a fist into the metal door. A growl lodges in my throat at patrons when the elevator doors swoosh open on the third floor. Lights are low, and the heady smell of arousal and booze slams into me.
Ares should have listened to me and made this section off-limits. Savages only, but he is all about keeping your friends close and the fuckers who want to drive a blade into your back closer.
Whatever.
“Get the fuck out of my way,” I snarl and push my way through drunk partiers who can’t hold their liquor. You’d think they were in the Big Easy on Mardi Gras instead of in the middle of the workweek getting plastered for no other reason than because they can.
Pounding music feeds through the whole place. Which normally doesn’t bother me, but tonight it feels like a jackhammer going off inside my head.
Shit. Maybe I should have stayed back at the compound and had Reaper meet me there. No, then Ares would be all up in my shit and frankly, I’ve had enough of him for a while.
