Page 1 of The Horror of Hell


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Prologue.

August 2020

Chance.

Chance glanced around the church. The meeting was winding down, but he knew there were several other important matters to discuss. Bear gazed at Chance, daring him to bring it up, and Chance stiffened his shoulders. His eyes landed on Levi, who’d been on a walkabout for the last five weeks. His brother looked healthier than when he’d fled for his hillside refuge. Chance was reassured Levi was home for a while.

“So, to recap what Celt just announced, a reporter will come to do a six-page spread on them and also on Celt’s multiple roles. The journalist will ask a shitload of questions that Chey and Celt can either answer or not. But I want some digging done on the interviewer. Make sure she’s kosher. Tiny, you got that job,” Chance spoke.

Tiny nodded.

“Okay fuckers, for the last few years, we’ve been discussing this, and you bunch of pussies wriggle out of it every time,” Chance said as silence fell.

Immediately, several brothers stared at the wall.

“Pres?” Big Al responded with a smirk. He knew what was coming.

“That shop we own, the former department store. I’ve had Apache and Rock come over and design plans to make it into units.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than resistance followed. Yeah, Chance had been expecting this. His glower descended, and while his brothers met his eyes, none of them looked happy. Well, those who weren’t about to be bullied didn’t seem bothered and actually appeared gleeful.

“Apache and Rock created exactly what I asked of them, and now you fuckers are going to step up!” Chance thumped the table and held Shotgun’s gimlet stare.

“The top floor is being changed into a gallery. Tati made the suggestion, and it’s a good one. It will showcase any sort of arty farty crap up there. The ground floor will have a workroom and a small shop for Shotgun to display his wares. The more expensive shit will go in the showroom,” Chance said, pinning Shotgun with a stare.

“I don’t want…”

“Don’t give a flying fuck what you desire, brother. You’re talented, fuckin’ skilled, and wasting it. I’ve let you lot swing in the breeze long enough. None of ya’s have a voice in this!” Chance bellowed and saw Phoenix smirk. He barely restrained an eye roll. That woman would never be frightened of him.

“Shotgun, how much space do you have left in your house? Your two spare bedrooms are crammed with stuff you’ve made. The dining room is jammed full, and the garage, which is your workroom, is being overtaken. Honey, you can make a fuck load of cake and pay into the pot,” Phoe said, and Chance nodded at her. Shotgun turned a stubborn glare at her.

“Phoe…”

“Shush, you’re a baby. Manny and Gunner didn’t want to display their woodwork, and now they pay a high wad into Rage’s account each month,” Phoe retorted.

Chance grinned. He loved it when Phoe was on his side, hated it when she beat common sense into him.

“And you!” Phoe spun on Celt.

Celt immediately looked elsewhere but met Bears, Chance’s, or Big Al’s eyes. Finally, he turned back to her with a glare.

“What! I’m on tour if not here,” Celt spat.

Phoe shook her head.

“Bullshit!” Phoe growled. “Chey has cut her touring down, and you know it. Chance will put a music studio on the ground floor, fully kitted out. It will primarily be for you and Chey, but we can rent it out to others. You have two storage lockers full of glass works. And they’re so beautiful. You need a workshop and to realise your only talent isn’t just singing; it’s working with glass to create lovely items. Chey agrees,” Phoe added, and the brothers knew that ended the argument.

Celt took on a pout that made Chance chuckle.

“Don’t even think you’re going to escape fuckers!” Chance turned to Diesel and Banshee. Both cocked their heads curiously. “You two are so disorganised you make the kids look OCD. You need offices. They’ll be on the third floor with some other office space we’ll be renting out. Organise your businesses properly!” Chance ordered.

Shee opened his mouth to kick off and shut it quickly with a stare from Phoe.

“You better not be planning to move my gym!” Tiny warned.

“Why would I do that, fucker? You are one of the most organised here,” Chance retorted, and Phoe and Bear snickered. Tiny glared before relaxing.

“Chance…” Levi said as Chance pinned him with a glare.

“Don’t bother. Apache designed a space for you, ripping out walls to let maximum light in. You’re getting a studio!” Chance snarled, and Levi squared up.

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