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I pull open the door, and my mother’s body slumps toward me. Catching her, I blink away the tears that threaten. They burn, and I want nothing more than to give my life for hers. The bastards were after me. Whoever they were, they wanted me dead, but instead, they stole the last good thing in my life.
The image of her blurs, and my vision is stolen when I drop my head against hers and shut my eyes. And I do the one thing I haven’t done in years–I pray. Never once did I think I’d be on my knees, calling out to a God who long ago had forsaken me, beggin’ for him to bring my mother to life. She always wanted me to join her in prayer. And it’s in her death I finally do.
I don’t know how long I’m on my knees, but when I feel a hand on my shoulder, I glance up, the sun momentarily blinding me. He steps into the light, and I see Rebel staring down at me. The look on his face tells me everything I need to know.
Today I become the President.
And today, I make a vow of revenge.
ONE
MONSTER
Present Day
Our warehouse is abandoned.Outside Belfast, it sits in an area where most sane folk don’t venture. They know it’s owned by the Royal Bastards MC, and they know to respect our privacy. The peelers don’t bother comin’ out here either, because they know they’ll get paid generously to turn a blind eye. We don’t give them a reason to pin anythin’ on us while we help them clean up the city. It’s the only reason they allow us to do as we please.
Flickin’ the blade open, I smile when the man before me cowers. I’ve spent a long time watchin’ these bastards. I want to find the man who killed my ma, and I know I’m getting closer. Today is the first time in years I feel I’m right on the edge, and I’m about to uncover the truth.
Since that day, holding my ma’s dead body in my arms, I’d been on a mission. Nothin’ coulda stopped me from this path I’ve chosen. I don’t know if she woulda been angry with me, watchin’ me torture and kill, but I need this. My blood boils every time I find out more information.
The confessions of fifty dead men still replay in my mind. It was the Irish mafia. Even though they came for me, for my family, I don’t know why. Da isn’t around to offer me answers, so I’m goin’ ta have to find them myself.
“P-please,” the bastard begs as he looks up at me with watery eyes. They shimmer in the darkness. Nighttime is when I work best. The shadows hide all sorts of acts. I’ve seen them all. As the President of the Royal Bastards MC, Belfast Chapter, I’ve taken the club my da left behind, and I ensured it didn’t fall apart. The men didn’t trust me at first, I was a youngen with no experience.
But now, ten years down the line, I’m the feckin’ king.
“Snivelin’ won’t get you free from this,” I tell him. “You give me answers, and I’ll think about endin’ you quick.” I lean in and get in his face. Allowing the blade to slide against his cheek, I smile when a sliver of blood trickles from the cut. His pained hiss makes me chuckle. “That isn’t the worst thing we can do to you,” I continue. “Now, tell me where to find the bastard in charge.”
I should be shittin’ myself in fear of finding Bragan. But I ain’t because the moment I do, I’m goin’ ta kill him. My focus has been to avenge Ma’s death. I left fear back on the street the day she died. Nothing prepared me for seeing her shot like that. And I’ve seen some bad shite in my life.
“I-I-I don’t know,” the bastard spits out, blood dripping from his mouth as he looks up at me. I can tell we’ve gotten all we can out of him, which only means one thing. No witnesses, nobody to run back to their leader to tell on me.
I don’t think twice about pressing the blade against his neck. The blood that slowly seeps from the wound drenches my fingers. It turns the metal red. Death comes to us all—there is no escaping it. And when you least expect it, you’ll end up six feet under.
“Any last words?” I can’t stop the smile from appearing on my face. I no longer feel anything. I’m numb to emotion, to guilt or pain, or even fear. I allowed heartbreak to hold me hostage for so long, but as the years went by, I shoved all those human feelings into a box and locked it up tight. I’m no longer a man. I’ve become a monster.
“P-please, Cathal,” he begs, using my given name. It’s the one my mother gifted me when I was born. Taken from the Celtic elements that bring together a meaning of battle and rule. I was brought into this world with violence in my veins. It ran through my blood, and it has become synonymous with how I run the club.
“Tie his hands down,” I order Rebel who smirks when he steps forward. My VP has an addiction to torture. I’ve watched him smile as he’s sliced a man’s mouth from ear to ear. There are things going on inside his head that worry me.
Once the bastard’s wrists are bound to the arms of the chair, I place my little device firmly over his hand.
“I-I-I can’t tell you anything,” he informs me, but I know it’s a lie. He can give me all the answers I need, but he won’t because he knows he’s goin’ ta die. So, whether he confesses now, or not, he’ll end up the same way.
The blade hangs waiting to be dropped. It looks like a mini version of a guillotine. But this one doesn’t decapitate; it chops off fingers one by one.
“Now,” I start. “Where’s Bragan?” My focus is on his watery gaze. The man is crying, he’s nearing his limit, and when he reaches it, I’ll push way past it if he doesn’t give me what I want. The only men I respect, I will die for, are my brothers. Anyone else means nothing to me. I’ve lived my life like that, with loyalty running through my veins. I won’t change. Nobody else will ever change me.
“I-I don’t know,” he sputters, and I tug on the string, which lets the guillotine drop, and his index finger falls to the ground in a wet splat—the concrete stained in red. “Fuck!”
“Like I said before, I’m not goin’ ta feck around,” I tell him. “Where is Bragan?”
He looks up at me, the plea in his expression evident. The bastard wants me to release him. He wants to ask me for mercy, but he knows that’s not possible. I don’t show anyone mercy, not when it comes to the fucker who killed Ma.
I’ve spent my life searching, and I won’t stop. All the soldiers who work for the mob will pay with their lives. It doesn’t matter if they give me the information or not. There’s no such thing as leniency when it comes to criminals.
I want to laugh. Some would call the Royal Bastards criminals. But we don’t go after innocent people. Those we do torture, those we do kill, they deserve it. As much as I hated Da for pushing me into this life, I vowed I wouldn’t turn out like he did. And I wouldn’t be six feet under before my fiftieth birthday. As I child, I looked at him and fear gripped me. I was scared I would become exactly like him.
