Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 96(@200wpm)___ 76(@250wpm)___ 64(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 96(@200wpm)___ 76(@250wpm)___ 64(@300wpm)
“I’m about to become a motherfucking artist,” I said softly, deeply. I could only imagine how psychotic I looked from his perspective, and I was glad for it. I wanted him as scared as my woman had been last night, to feel as weak as he thought she was before she bested him.
Then… I carved, starting at his identifying scar, letting the blade slide through his cheek like butter, and downward to turn his throat into a beautiful smile. But not too deep. I wanted him to suffer for a while. He screamed, gurgled, and clawed at me—giving me exactly what I wanted—and I kept him pinned to the wall, even starting to laugh as I watched him slowly bleed out.
After his throat, I sliced up his face until his skin peeled away from muscle and bone, falling to the dirty ground with wet splats.
He was dying but somehow still conscious, so it brought me great joy when, before he was good and dead, I got to watch the light leave his eyes as I shoved the blade into his mouth and twisted.
More blood gushed from his throat, coating his shirt and cut and spraying across mine.
Finally, his body sagged, now nothing but a corpse, but his muscles twitched one last time.
Behind me, Lachlan, another patch, started giggling like a lunatic. “You’re crazier than me, Knox. You sick motherfucker.” He laughed even harder.
I turned and faced my brothers, all of us covered in blood, chests heaving from the fight, and ready to go after the rest of this MC made up of rogue pieces of shit.
Kelsie was safe. She was mine. And now, I’d go take care of the other fuckers, so this was done and over with and would never happen again.
None of them would ever touch her or threaten our MC again, because there’d be no one left to retaliate against our vengeance.
I’d make sure all loose ends were tied up and watch as our enemies burned to ash.
11
KELSIE
Iwas in the bathroom washing up when I heard the door to the room I was staying in for the night slam open. The sound reverberated through the tiny room like a gunshot as the door hit the wall.
I jumped, a squeak leaving me, my heart pounding in my chest as I turned to see him stalk into the room. I was still in the bathroom’s entryway, and Knox stood right inside the bedroom, water dripping from his leather jacket.
His jeans were soaked through, and his hair was plastered to his forehead. The storm outside was relentless, and the steady drumbeat of rain against the roof was loud.
Next, it was the blood that covered him that caught my eye. It was everywhere—on his hands and his clothes… even streaked across his face. It mixed with the rainwater, creating dark but diluted rivulets that ran down his body and pooled by his boots on the hardwood floor.
This was my Knox.
His chest heaved, and his eyes were wild, like a predator who had just made a kill. And I knew he had. I knew he’d killed those men who cornered me. They’d made a mistake—the biggest one of their lives—and now they were gone.
“Knox,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the storm and the pounding of my heart.
He said nothing, but his gaze was locked on mine. God was it intense, unyielding, and it had something primal stirring deep inside me.
“Come here,” he said, his tone brooking no argument, but still, I hesitated.
The air between us crackled with tension. I felt it cover me like a second skin. It was this raw, untamed energy that radiated from him and speared right into the most feminine part of my body.
Knox was dangerous, feral, and I wanted him to fuck me right here. Right now.
I took a step toward him, leaving the bathroom but walking no farther. He reached behind him and slowly, almost silently, closed the bedroom door, engaged the lock, and stood waiting for me to come closer.
The silence that followed was deafening. Knox didn’t move and didn’t say another word. He just stared at me, his eyes dark, his jaw clenched, and his arousal pushing against his jeans.
And then, finally, he took a step forward. Then another. And another. Each step was deliberate, measured, like he was stalking me. And he was.
My breath hitched as he closed the distance between us, his presence overwhelming.
“Kelsie,” he said, his voice low, rough like gravel.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “Are you hurt?” I didn’t think he was, but there was enough blood I worried he might’ve been.
He shook his head, rainwater flicking from his hair. “No. The blood isn’t mine.” He reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek, and I shivered at the contact, my eyes wanting to close of their own accord.