Chapter One
966 Words
Lila – 18 Years Later
The streets of Tampa blurred around me as my Ducati tore through traffic at over a hundred miles an hour.
Car horns screamed.
Tires shrieked.
Engines roared.
None of it mattered.
My focus stayed locked on the motorcycle twenty yards ahead of me.
He weaved recklessly between cars, nearly clipping a truck as he cut across three lanes trying to lose me. Panic made people sloppy, and the president of the Black Reapers MC was definitely panicking now.
Good.
The night air whipped violently around me, my black helmet hiding my face completely while the leather cut on my back snapped in the wind.
Nobody knew who I was under the helmet.
That was intentional.
Fear worked better when people couldn’t put a face to the monster hunting them.
He glanced over his shoulder for half a second, and I saw it immediately.
Terror.
He knew exactly who was behind him.
The Ruthless Banshees.
I twisted the throttle harder, the Ducati screaming beneath me as I closed the distance between us.
He reached for the gun tucked at his side.
Mistake.
I pulled my Glock smoothly from the holster at my thigh and fired once.
The shot echoed through the night.
His back tire exploded instantly.
The motorcycle fishtailed violently before flipping sideways, sparks erupting across the pavement as the man was thrown from the bike and sent tumbling across the street.
I leaned hard into the turn, bringing my Ducati to a controlled slide before jumping off it completely.
By the time he staggered to his feet, I was already moving toward him.
“You crazy b***h!” he yelled while pulling a knife.
I said nothing.
He lunged first.
Predictable.
I sidestepped him easily, grabbed his wrist, and slammed my elbow into his throat hard enough to make him choke. The knife clattered across the pavement.
He swung wildly.
I ducked, drove my fist into his ribs twice, then planted my boot into his knee with enough force to drop him to the ground screaming.
He tried reaching for a second weapon.
I stomped his hand flat against the pavement.
Crunch.
The scream that ripped out of him echoed through the alley.
Still, I said nothing.
Fear was louder than words.
He scrambled backward, bloody and panicked, but I grabbed him by the cut on his vest and slammed him into the brick wall hard enough to crack it.
“You don’t understand!” he gasped.
I drove my forearm into his throat.
“Oh, I understand perfectly.”
I ripped zip ties from my belt and secured his wrists before forcing him onto his knees.
Blood poured from his mouth as he glared up at me.
“I didn’t do s**t to the Ruthless Banshees!” he shouted. “Why the f**k are you after me?”
Slowly, I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out a folded photograph.
The second I held it in front of his face, all the color drained from his.
A woman.
And a little girl.
“No…” he whispered.
I crouched in front of him.
“What you did to these two is why I am after you.”
He started shaking his head immediately.
“I didn’t—”
“Lie to me again,” I said coldly, “and I will carve the truth out of you.”
His breathing became ragged.
I stood and slowly circled him like a predator.
“Because of you, that little girl is going to grow up without her mother.”
My voice stayed calm.
Controlled.
That made it worse.
“I never made it to her in time to save her.”
The man started laughing, and I knew this was his true face finally showing.
Cold.
Cruel.
Heartless.
The sound of motorcycles suddenly filled the alley behind me, and I instantly knew my club was here.
The rest of them had stayed behind to finish wiping out what was left of this asshole’s MC.
Headlights flooded the alley as motorcycles rolled in one after another.
The man stopped laughing.
Good.
Fear had finally returned.
My Vice President, Siren, walked up beside me while my enforcer Marcus moved to my other side.
Marcus was one of only two men allowed in the Ruthless Banshees.
Trent was the other.
The rest of my club were women.
Including the prospects.
The man looked around at all of us before laughing again.
“If I’m going to be killed by the Banshees, I want to see your faces while you do it.”
I turned toward him slowly.
“As you wish.”
I reached up and pulled my helmet off.
My long blonde-and-purple braid fell free instantly, sliding over my shoulder as cool air hit my face.
The second he saw me, the amusement vanished from his expression completely.
Behind me, the rest of my MC removed their helmets as well.
Marcus and Trent stepped forward while Siren and Hex came to stand directly beside me.
“A bunch of women run the Banshees?” the man asked before laughing again.
I smiled.
Not kindly.
“Drake Webb, you have been found guilty of bribery, trafficking, and murder.”
I slowly pulled my gun from its holster.
“Your sentence is death.”
I fired once.
The bullet struck him directly in the head.
He dropped instantly, and I watched the light fade from his eyes without feeling a single ounce of guilt.
Monsters like him didn’t deserve mercy.
I turned toward my club.
“Call the cleaners to take care of this. I’m heading to the Underground. I’ll see the rest of you there shortly.”
Several of them nodded immediately.
I head back to my Ducati and take off towards home.
- Writer
