My Dark Knight (Kings of Hell MC 2)

“No. And you fucking changed. This is bullshi—”

Martin didn’t have to invest half of the power in his massively thick arms to punch Elliot’s face hard enough to make him spiral to the floor. The slim body dropped like a cut tree, with a bang that had Knight’s own bones aching in sympathy.

“I said get on your knees, and I might consider letting you see the sun tomorrow,” Martin growled, and Knight couldn’t wait any longer.

Squeezing his hand on the pipe, he burst in through the door and charged at Martin, aiming at his head. The guy’s eyes went wide, but he ducked and Knight swung the pipe in the air, hitting a shelf full of tools that fell to the floor in a jangle of metal. Nails spilled out of their boxes, and a heavy screwdriver managed to roll against Martin’s foot.

“Get out of my house, motherfucker!” Martin’s face was flaming red, and he reminded Knight of a rabid hog. He dipped his hand into a drawer, and Knight had to act fast, because there surely was a gun in there.

He used the pipe to force Martin against the rickety wooden chest, but when steel flashed in Martin’s thick hand, Knight let go of his weapon and grabbed the man’s wrist, barely catching it in time before the firearm could be aimed at him. While not a weak man himself, Knight was somewhat shorter and less of a human tank than Martin, so he found himself struggling against his opponent’s pure physical strength. His muscles screamed as he tensed them against the pressure, but Knight wrestled Beast often enough to know his chances against Martin’s physical power.

“Get the fuck out,” he called out to Elliot, not wanting him anywhere near gunfire.

Elliot was a weasel caught in the headlights and only started scrambling to his feet at Knight’s words. He looked like he wanted to say something but then rushed for the door, almost falling over when he slipped on the beer.

“I’m gonna fuck you up, Prince Charming!” Martin shoved Knight hard, but at least the gun fell to the floor. “Who the fuck do you think you are, huh?”

Knight clenched his teeth and headbutted Martin with his all. Despite the experience he had with that move, their height difference did not play in his favor and left him with a violent thudding in his skull. “I’m a King of Hell. This is my town, you piece of trash!” he growled, but when Martin pushed at him again he made a dash for the forlorn gun. It shone in the light, tempting him with the promise of ending this farce.

He threw forward his entire body weight, but the moment his foot touched the wooden floor, it sank in with a loud crack, throwing Knight off balance and sending him stumbling face-first to the dusty planks. His stomach clenched even before his chin met the rough wood, but the reflex didn’t stop blood exploding to his tongue.

The gun rattled, pushed farther away, but Knight found it hard to focus with his head ringing from the dull blow. Everything slowed down, muted and sluggish, only for time to pick up as Martin pounced on top of Knight like a grizzly bear about to pull apart its victim. His thumbs went straight for Knight’s jugular.

“That’s what you think, pretty boy? That you can barge into my house and tell me what I can and cannot do?” Martin yelled with fury as he pressed his fingers tight against Knight’s neck, pushing down with his entire body weight. “I know who you are! I tracked you down all the way to your little trailer trash family. Your mom’s a really fine piece of ass. She could charge more with lips like that.”

Lightheadedness was almost instantaneous, and Knight grabbed at Martin’s fingers, struggling to pull them away. Rage boiled inside him and fueled his strength so that it wouldn’t run out yet. He choked, trying to shout back, but he couldn’t make any noise apart from a weak growl.

But then Martin screamed out and let go.

“Get off him, you asshole!” Elliot hopped on Martin’s back and wrapped his arm around Martin’s neck.

Fighting for breath, Knight watched the next few seconds unfold in slow motion. When Martin’s body twisted, a plastic handle emerged from his side, and Knight realized Elliot must have stabbed their opponent with one of the scattered screwdrivers. Roaring with fury, Martin no longer acted like a man but rather like a wounded animal, and he backed away, squashing Elliot’s body between his thick bulk and the wall. Elliot screamed out and let go, dropping to the dirty floor, but Knight was already there, his hand squeezed on a wooden handle he grabbed on the way. He swung the hammer at Martin’s bald skull.

Bone dented slightly under tanned skin, and Martin’s eyes glossed over. But as he fell on a nearby table and grabbed onto it in a mindless attempt to save himself, Knight was by him within a split second and brought the hammer down again and again, until blood and bits of brain were sprayed over the surface and Martin finally slid off—first to his knees, then collapsing to his side.