Page 59 of Sinner's Storm
“Don’t fucking threaten me, Storm.”
“Not threatening. Just stating a fact. And here is another fact,” I said, looking directly at the man. “I control the money, you sick fuck. Fuck with my family again, and I’ll bankrupt your ass.”
Later that night...
Sliding out of the blacked-out SUV, I stood looking at the large clubhouse on pier 81 as he came to stand beside me. Neither of us said anything as we looked at the home of the Soulless Sinners Motorcycle Club.
“You sure about this?”
Nodding, I reached around my back, wrapping my hand around the butt of a gun. Flipping the safety off, I pulled back on the chamber, loading a bullet.
I’d never been surer about anything in my life. I was done with this shit. I wasn’t going to let an innocent woman suffer like I had. I knew this history of corruption would never end with those currently in power. They would never see the bigger picture.
No matter how I looked at it, the fighting would continue for generations, and the blood would continue to flow.
That was something I refused to allow.
I was tired of burying friends, family and loved ones.
This shit show needed to end now.
“You sure everything is off?” I asked.
“He said it was.”
“Good.” I nodded.
“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?”
“I’ve got this,” I stated firmly. “Just keep the vehicle running.”
Walking in the dark, I headed toward the clubhouse, surrounded by the darkness of the night. Not a single star in the sky shined brightly. The moon, vacant, leaving the night pitch black. It was the perfect night, almost as if the darkness welcomed what was to come.
Pushing the front doors of the clubhouse open, I moved methodically toward my destination.
I was so fucking tired of this shit.
My whole life, I had to fight my way through the darkness. I’d been beaten, used as a bargaining chip, manipulated, tortured, raped, and torn apart for others’ sick fucking perversion.
No more.
Walking into the mailroom, I didn’t bother looking at the other men sleeping in the cells. The one I wanted was at the far end, and when I stood before the bars, seeing him sleeping peacefully, I raised my gun and whispered, “This is for my fucking family, you piece of shit.”
Then I emptied my clip into George Stone.
Fucking piece of shit.
I hope he rotted in hell.
Turning to walk away, the other men in the cells all stood, staring at me, saying nothing as I smirked, walking out of the room with my head held high. I didn’t give a fuck if they told Montana what they saw. It wouldn’t matter. Because by the time they uttered my name, I would be long gone. They would never find me.
My family would ensure that.
As I stepped out into the night, I smiled as the darkness surrounded me, when I heard a familiar voice yell, “Drop!”
Doing so immediately, a silver blade flew past my face.
As if time stood still, I turned just in time to watch the long blade slice into Shame, who stood behind me, holding a gun in his hand. Blood bubbled out of his mouth as he stood there, staring at me in shock.