King's Wrath (Sydney Storm MC 5)

She watched me for another moment before saying, “Get off me, King. I can’t stand looking at you for another minute tonight.”

I ignored her attitude. All I cared about was that she’d come around to my way of thinking. She’d get over whatever anger she felt soon enough.

She didn’t waste time leaving the room, and as she went, she glanced back at me and said, “Don’t bother coming to bed tonight. There’s no way I’m letting you anywhere near me.”

3

King

Six Months Later

* * *

“You’re with me, King.”

I eyed Jethro, watching him closely as he walked towards his bike. It had been just over six months since I was made a prospect, and today I’d been voted in as a full patch member.

Ghost scowled at me. He’d made it clear how unimpressed he was that Jethro had moved me up so fast. Usually, it took Jethro over a year to agree to a vote on a prospect.

Ignoring Ghost, I followed my president.

“Stick close to me,” he said as he got on his bike. “We’ve got business to take care of, and then we’re meeting Breaker.”

Breaker, the Black Deeds president. That surprised me, because Jethro usually took his VP with him when he met Breaker, but I kept my surprise to myself.

Just under an hour later, we pulled into an out-of-the-way construction site. A lone car waited for us, the owner perched on the hood. He turned as he heard our bikes rumble in.

“Dash,” Jethro greeted him. “You’ve got the package?”

Dash narrowed his eyes at me before glancing back at Jethro, distrust clear in his gaze. “Who the fuck is this? We have a deal, Jethro. You come alone.”

“King will be with me from now on.” His tone signalled he wouldn’t get into a discussion on this.

I had no idea who Dash was or what the fuck was going on, so I kept quiet.

Raking his fingers madly through his hair, sweat forming on his brow, Dash muttered, “Fuck, this changes shit, Jethro. If they find out—”

Jethro grunted his displeasure with the conversation as he scrunched a handful of Dash’s shirt into his grip and pulled him close. “King’s not spilling a word of this, but yeah, if they find out some other way, you’re dead. If you don’t do as I say, I’ll fucking make sure they know about our little visits, so give me the fucking package and get on board with this.”

Dash crossed his arms, a smug expression on his face. “You’re full of shit. You’ve got nothing worth shit on me, and without the info I’ve got for you today, you can’t prove a thing about Breaker.”

Jethro bared his teeth as his lips pulled back in a sneer. “Show him what happens to men who don’t honour their commitments, King,” he barked.

Over the past six months, I’d been called upon numerous times to deal with assholes who tried to fuck the club over, but this was the first time Jethro had personally asked me to step up.

Not wasting a second, I swapped places with Jethro and landed my first punch. Adrenaline blazed through me, and my lust for violence took over.

I smashed my fist into his face repeatedly, barely registering his cries of pain as bloodlust filled my mind. While every one of my senses picked up on his pain, I needed only the visual and touch to keep me locked into what I was doing.

It was the blood, the agony on his face, and the feel of inflicting pain that got me off.

And that made me want more.

So much more.

Most days I walked the tightrope of controlling my urges. They had grown over the last six months since I’d deepened my ties to the club. If it weren’t for Ivy and my family, I’d give in to the

m completely. My love for a few kept my madness in check, but it was in these moments with the club that I could surrender and own my insanity.