Scartissue by T.L Hodel

Prologue

Logan

3 months ago;

The two most prominent horsemen visited this field today.

Death and war.

They hung in the air with the taint of blood and whimpering cries. I couldn’t see them, but I heard their silent call. I’d felt it tugging at the darkest parts of my soul since I was a kid. They were the monsters in my closet. The things under my bed that demanded to feed, and I answered. Because that’s what all it boiled down to, in the end. There was nothing else.

Just death and war.

I rode out the last spikes of my adrenaline surge and sucked in a deep breath. Minutes ago, this place was anarchy, filled with roaring bikes and a hail of bullets. Now, there was only a soft breeze blowing through the grass. Calm, like the eye of a storm. Except my old man wasn’t just any storm. He was a motherfucking hurricane. I could still hear his voice in the back of my head.

‘It’s time to pay the piper, boy.’

The Order of Ravens and Wolves thought they were infallible. That no one could touch the Kings. They ruled from behind their wall of secrets and golden towers. They seemed to forget one important fact. My old man was a King. There was no way he’d have started this shit if he wasn’t prepared.

While everyone else was patting themselves on the back, I waited for the punchline. The second-rate guns for hire we took out were nothing more than cannon fodder. There was a bigger picture here. That much I knew. My old man always told me, the best way to catch someone off guard was to let them think they won. Whatever his endgame was, this shit was part of it.

Lou wanted my old man taken alive. Micha’s dad was an idiot. The only way we’d have captured mine, was if he wanted us to. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have wasted his time taking Mase and Riley. He would’ve put a bullet in their heads from a thousand yards away. If Lou wasn’t so busy playing King of Kings, he’d see that.

I looked at two bikers lounging on their Harleys and scanned the scythe on the back of their leather jackets. Above were the words ‘Lost Souls, Miami, Chapter 11’. Gotta say, I’d thought Micha lost his damn mind when he asked their president for help.

Chase Mathers was Riley’s uncle—though he acted more like her dad—and according to Preston, the guy had a higher body count than Bundy. When Preston is sketchy about someone, that’s when you need to worry. I half expected him to slit our fucking throats when we walked into his tattoo parlor. We were the reason Riley was in danger, after all.

Instead of painting the walls with our blood, Chase came back from the dead and called his boys in. Not sure why he let people think he was offed with his wife and kid, and I didn’t really care. We all had the same agenda: rescue my stepsister, Riley, and my brother, Mason. My endgame was different, though. Eight years ago, I shot my old man and dumped his body in the ocean, thinking that was it. The boogeyman was dead. Saving Mase and Riley was a bonus. I came here for one reason. To finish what I started.

All this shit, the hired guns, taking Mase and Riley, was just my old man’s way of saying ‘surprise motherfuckers’. Riley was to make Micha suffer—he never did like him—but Mase… that shit was all for me. Another one of his twisted lessons. Like when he made me kill my puppy. I loved that fucking dog.

One shot of epinephrine and Mase woke up. Riley was still unconscious when the ambulance took off. I’d never seen Micha cry before. Not even the first time he had to kill a man, and most of us at least shed a tear for that test. My old man had finally broken the one person I never thought he could.

My eyes locked on the open wing doors and the staircase leading into the dark.

He’s down there right now.

“Shit kid,” Chase’s vice president, Tanner, pointed at the seeping wound in the left side of my abdomen. “You’re hit.”

I glanced down at one of my old man’s men groaning on the ground and popped one in his skull.

“I’m fine,” I said, shrugging off the dull ache crawling up my spine with the recoil.

Lou wanted to keep my dad alive, and the King of Kings word was law. Fucking Order hierarchy. Except Lou wasn’t my King. Micha was, and he’d want the son of a bitch dead.

Fuck the King of Kings, and fuck the Order.

I cocked my 9mm and marched for the stairs.

“Whoa kid,” Tanner pushed on my shoulder, “Where are you going?”

“To talk to my old man.” I pressed my gun to his head and growled, “Why? You gonna stop me?”

He held up his hands and took a step back. “Who am I to stand in the middle of a family reunion?”

A smirk tugged at my mouth as I stormed past him and down the stairs.

Stupid Lou. Leaving the bikers to watch me. There was one rule every MC I knew about had. You don’t fuck with family. Those assholes wanted blood more than I did. Lucky for them, I was more than happy to play avenging angel.

Torches burned in the sconces on the walls, casting the tunnels in a shadowy illumination. Some might find it eerie. I, however, didn’t need light to know where I was going. The only person who knew The Basement better than me, was Preston. Hence why he recognized the room Riley and Mase were being held in. I was usually too lost in what I was doing to pay attention to the details of my surroundings. When the Order wanted someone to disappear, they called Preston. When they wanted them to suffer, they called me.

“Do yourself a favor, Ryker,” Lou’s voice echoed down the hall from the branding room, “And tell me. Where is he?”

My brow rose. He?

“An eye for an eye, old friend.” It’d been eight years since I’d heard my old man’s voice, and that cocky drawl still grated on my nerves.

“Tell me where he is,” Lou demanded again, “And I’ll give you a quick death.”

My finger twitched on the trigger

Don’t worry, Lou, I got that covered.

My old man laughed. “You might let me slip quietly into the night, old friend, but Dean won’t. How is your lovely daughter?”

“Motherfucker,” Dean growled.

The resounding sound of flesh hitting flesh rang through the air, followed by a grunt. Dean Whitley wasn’t like the other Kings. He was a hard bastard—had to be, to raise a kid like Preston. Unfortunately, my old man knew exactly which buttons to push. He’d raped Dean’s daughter with a pool cue when she was ten. Now, Ava couldn’t have kids. I know he did this, because the sick fuck made me watch. I was seven.

“You should learn to control your emotions, Dean.” My old man tsked and I could almost see the grin on his face. “Like your son. Then again, Preston doesn’t feel much, does he?”

“Keep talking, dickhead,” Preston’s voice was just as calm as ever. The fucker didn’t get angry often, but when he did… “You’re only digging yourself a deeper hole.”

A hole I planned to drop his body in.

“Perhaps I should’ve taken Parker instead? Mason was such a disappointment. But your brother…”

He was asking for it now. If Preston had a weakness, it was his baby brother. He stabbed one of their nannies once. Because she spanked Parker.

“Quit stalling, Ryker.”

“Smart boy.” My old man said.

“Let me guess,” I heard Preston sigh, along with the click of a gun cocking, “You’ve got back up coming?”

“More like… deliverance.”

I rounded the corner and saw him. My old man on his knees, with his hands cuffed behind his back. Blood streaked his blond hair and stained his shirt. A lot more blood than what would come from the minor bruises and cuts on his face. More like claw marks. Though my blood was boiling, I smirked. My stepsister didn’t go down without a fight. Bet the fucker didn’t see that coming.

Lou stood on one side of my old man, with Dean on the other. The second I walked in, they all stopped and turned my way. Lou and Dean eyed me warily, while a smile spread across my old man’s face.

“Ah, and here it is now,” he said, nodding at the gun in my hand. “Come to finish the job, boy?”

“What is it you always told me?” I looked him dead in the eyes and raised my hand. Finger ready and on the trigger. “It’s time to pay the piper.”

“Calm down, Logan.” Lou’s gaze shifted to my 9mm. “Think about what you’re doing.”

“Oh, I think I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Preston push off the wall and stand up straight. Dean muttered under his breath, and Lou took a cautious step closer. They were all ready to pounce. Muscles tense and backs straight, with their alert eyes focused on me. I almost laughed. Did they really think they could stop me?

“Put the gun down, son,” Lou coaxed, while taking another step in my direction.

“You need to back the fuck off, Lou. I will shoot you.”

He’d survive a leg shot.

Tension rolled off us in heavy waves. They all knew I’d do it. The only question was how far they’d have to go to stop me? They could put a bullet in my head for all I cared. As long as mine struck it’s target first.

In true shrink fashion, Lou kept his voice calm and even. “It’s forbidden to kill a King, Logan.”

I snorted. Fucking Lou.

“A King can’t kill another King. You were the one who told us that, and I’m not a King yet.”

Lou’s face dropped.

That’s right asshole, I pay attention.

“That’s it, boy. Don’t let anyone get between you and your prey.” My old man’s eyes sparkled with amusement. I hated those green fucking eyes. The same brilliant color girls swooned over was a curse to me. A constant reminder of whose nut sac I spawned from. I couldn’t wait to watch the life bleed out of them. “Just don’t fuck it up this time.”

“Can’t fuck up if I hit you between the eyes.”

Goodbye, you piece of shit. Hope you enjoy hell.

Someone crashed into me, slamming my back against the wall and making my shot go wild.

Fucking Preston!

“Get the fuck off me!” I snarled in his face.

He grunted and pinned my armed hand to the wall. A smart move, considering I’d have shot the bastard.

“You don’t want to do this.”

“The fuck I don’t!” I struggled against his hold. Preston might be the shortest of us, at six foot even, but the prick was deceptively strong. “He deserves to die.”

“He deserves to suffer,” Preston argued.

Okay, he might have a point. Why give the bastard a quick death, when he can live in agony for a while? My eyes locked on one of the scars on my arm. This one a cigarette burn he gave me when I was six and fell off my bike. Because boys don’t cry. There were dozens more blended into the ink covering my upper body. People didn’t notice them, but I knew they were there, and remembered how I got each and every one.

“Still a disappointment, I see.” My old man sighed and shook his head.

Fuck letting him live in agony. My old man needed to die!

Rage burned, flowed through my system, giving me the strength to push Preston back.

“Fuck,” he grunted, struggling to maintain his hold.

Lou and Dean’s mouths were moving. They were yelling something, but I couldn’t hear them. All I could see was that smug fucking smile I needed to wipe out of existence.

“Come on, boy,” my old man taunted. “Better stop me before I get ahold of your mother.”

“You’ll never fucking touch her again!” I roared.

I almost had my arm free. One more good tug and this motherfucker would be done.

“Perhaps the sheriff would like to watch his second wife suffer. Though they’re not really married, since I’m still here and she’s my fucking wife!”

“I’m gonna rip your fucking heart out!”

For years after he was gone, Ma walked around on eggshells. She hid in the house and jumped at her own shadow, afraid he would come back from hell for her. I couldn’t stop him when I was a kid. I wasn’t a kid anymore.

“You always did have a soft spot for your mother. Is that why you shot me? To protect her.” My old man tsked. “You didn’t do a very good job, boy. Here I am, and I will get my hands on her.”

“Shut him the fuck up!” Preston called out over his shoulder.

I tore my arm out of his grip and lifted the gun.

“I’ll shut him up.”

Preston reared back and punched me in the gut, landing his strike right on my bullet wound. I grunted and flinched long enough for him to slam me into the wall.

“Fuck you!” I growled, glaring in Preston’s cold steel eyes.

“You’re giving that fucker exactly what he wants.”

I looked over at the delight on my old man’s face, and sighed.

Fuck! Preston was right. Still, I couldn’t force the tension out of my body. I needed to see his brains on the floor. Needed it so bad, it made my skin crawl.

Preston lifted his hand and slapped me. “Tell me where she is.”

Despite the burning need to hit him back, my eyes snapped up to his.

“What’s she doing? Are you playing with her?”

And just like that, my mind was on something else.

Shelby fucking Grace.

My walking, talking, wet dream.

“Close your eyes, Logan. Tell me where she is.”

My lids slowly shut, allowing me to picture the blonde that’d been taunting me with those long legs and perfect ass. “She’s in my room.”

Arms strung up over her head, with red welts marking her creamy complexion. My fucking marks.

“What are you doing to her?” Preston’s voice urged me deeper into my fantasy.

I could hear the slap of leather. The resounding echo making my dick swell. I could see the tears dripping off her face, streaking her creamy white skin. Fuck, I wanted to taste her tears. Lick them off her while she pleaded for mercy. Too bad Shelby was still a little girl. Her room was full of frilly pink and white crap, along with a pile of stuffed animals. Including three unicorns. Fucking unicorns! That girl could never handle what I’d give her.

“Is she crying?”

I licked my lips and nodded. “Yeah.”

“No one else will touch her, because she’s your little doll to play with, isn’t she?”

“My fucking doll,” I growled, wanting to punch him for reminding me about something I could never have, but his trick worked. By the time I opened my eyes, I’d calmed down enough for him to let me go.

Preston cocked his head at me, “You good?”

Yeah, I was good. Still wanted to kill my old man, but I didn’t have to anymore.

“Give me a fucking smoke,” I barked out.

I should’ve known my old man wouldn’t let it go. Two puffs in and he opened his fucking mouth.

“First thing I’m going to do when I get out is pay the Grace girl a visit.”

Preston tackled me before I could pull the trigger.