Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 52932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
We’ve left Racer and Hades in the room with Gordon. I don’t hear any screams, so I’m not sure if they’re just watching him, or if they’ve already killed him.
“I am so feckin’ proud of you, Harley. I didn’t envision this life for you, but you’ve stepped up and showed that you’re more than capable.”
“Thank you, Hadrian.” I’m grateful for his faith in me.
“Hades and Racer know what to do with that traitor for the next few minutes.” His voice sounds cold and harsh, but I know it’s directed at the bastard in that room.
We walk out into the cool night air, and the stars above are a reminder of the vast world beyond our struggles. We’re met by the group of men who remained loyal to me and my father and who came to fight alongside us tonight. I feel a sense of unity and resolve among them, and as each one, in turn, comes up to me to take my hand and shake it, I realise they respect me. There’s a shared commitment to rebuild and strengthen our organisation.
“I need to go back inside and help the others with Gordon and then confront my father,” Hadrian tells me, and I nod.
“I know.” Leaning up onto my tiptoes, I press my lips to his cheek and his beard tickles my face.
Hadrian has bound his long hair in a bun, which is a sure sign that more blood is about to be shed. He leaves me outside, but I’m not alone. The men are still with me, surrounding the perimeter, so I’m safe.
FOURTEEN
REV
The sensation of blood running through my fingers has always been a welcome distraction for most of my life.
I grew up in one of the worst council estates in England. At least, that’s what it felt like when I was a youngen. There were no second chances for Hades, and me. We did what we needed to do. We begged, borrowed, and stole. That’s what we were taught by the man we called our father.
We didn’t want to get involved in that shitty life, but there wasn’t any way out. Our father would send us on jobs so we could earn our keep, as he called it, and after Ma died, we didn’t have anyone to keep us on the straight and narrow.
My brother and I ran away from home when we were sixteen, but our innocence was already lost by then. We found ourselves in Newcastle, a city where we could disappear. Our father didn’t know where we were, so he couldn’t send his men to find us and bring us back. He may have been feared close to home, but outside the city limits, he was a nobody.
As I stand over the man sprawled on the floor, the air in the warehouse is thick with tension and the acrid scent of blood. The moonlight shimmering through the broken windows casts a ghostly light over the scene, illuminating the crimson pool spreading beneath him. My father’s breaths are ragged, each one a stark reminder of his fading life. My heart is pounding, and there’s a mix of adrenaline and grim satisfaction coursing through my veins.
This is retribution.
“You never amounted to anything, either of you,” Dad gasps. “I always knew you wouldn’t. Becomin’ a fuckin’ priest, Hadrian. What the fuck is that all about, son? Then both of you end up joining a fuckin’ motorcycle club.” His dark stare flicks between my brother and me.
I look down at my father, and all I see is a stranger. A bastard who doesn’t deserve to live.
“You’re going to pay for your sins,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice steady. I don’t want him to see how much control he still has over me.
“Aye,” he spits out. “Let me pay, then,” he challenges with a dark chuckle, but I can hear in his voice that he’s growing weaker and weaker.
He’s always claimed he’s not afraid to die. When we were children, he would often tell us he was ready for death when the time came. But as much as I hate this man, I waver.
Hades steps forward, and leaning over our father’s broken body, he spits right in his face. “You’re a feckin’ disgrace,” my brother tells him. “A poor excuse for a father. You should never have been allowed to have children.”
Our father’s eyes, once so full of menace, now flicker with fear and desperation. He tries to lift a hand, as if to plead, but it falls limply to his side, the strength sapped from his body.
“Hadrian,” he croaks my name, his voice becoming a weak, trembling whisper.
I take a step closer, my boots squelching in the blood-soaked concrete. The sight of him, broken and helpless, should disturb me, but all I feel is a cold, righteous fury. For years, he tormented us, cast a dark shadow over our lives. He tried to control us, to bend us to his will. But never again. Tonight, it ends.