Battle Hearts (Storm MC Reloaded 3)

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Striker comes through for me one fucking time in his life; he tells me who shot Max. It was the brother of the girl he got pregnant. He took aim at Striker, but Max got in the way when he tried to push Striker to safety.

King comes through for me when he cancels the meeting with Torres and backs me on whatever I want to do to avenge Max’s death.

We take fifteen men with us when we go looking for the shooter. I won’t need fifteen men, but Ransom insists. “I know you plan to kill him with your bare hands, brother, but I want back-up to ensure you get that chance.”

I don’t just plan to kill this motherfucker; I intend to torture him and fucking gut him. I intend to look my brother’s killer in the eyes while I fucking dismember him. I intend to drag his pain out until he’s begging me to take his life.

A bike is parked outside his house when we arrive. I wonder if it’s his or if it means we’ll get two for one with this.

Without bothering to knock, I kick the door down and force my way in. The asshole is sitting on his couch watching fucking TV while smoking a joint, like it’s any old fucking day rather than the day he took Max’s life.

His eyes come to mine and flare with hostility. He doesn’t have a chance to move before I’ve reefed him off the couch.

“Hey asshole,” he snarls. “He fucked with my sister. He deserved everything he got.”

I pull him close to me so our faces are inches apart. “Wrong. You killed the wrong man. You killed my brother.”

The hostility in his eyes turns to panic. “Fuck.”

I grip his shirt hard so I can shove him with force against the wall. When he lands on the floor with a thud, I crouch in front of him and punch him. I then yank him back up and let King secure his hands behind his back, and allow another club member to gag and hood him. I then drag him out to our van waiting in his driveway.

Except for the grunts coming from the motherfucker we just nabbed, we drive in silence to our storage warehouse where I haul him inside and thrust him to the ground. Ripping the hood off, I grasp his hair and stretch his head and neck back. Bringing my mouth close to his face, I growl, “It was too fucking easy finding you, Ricky, and that’s a damn shame. I would have preferred to fight harder for you; would have preferred to get my hands

dirty. So we’re gonna do that now before we get to the part where I gut you.”

His eyes go wide and he madly shakes his head while trying to speak. The gag prevents him from forming words I can understand; all I hear are garbled grunts.

King reaches for Ricky’s hands and pulls him up. He holds him in place for me and I punch the fuck out of him. Repeatedly.

As I settle into a rhythm, my mind fills with images of Max sprawled on the ground, dead. I see the blood. I see his lifeless eyes. I see the life he never got to finish. The marriage he never got to have. The future torn from him.

My punches become more brutal.

More relentless.

I need him to feel what I feel: pain like I’ve never known.

And he does. By the time I’m finished getting my hands dirty, his body is limp in King’s arms and he’s almost unconscious. His cries of agony stopped a good ten minutes ago, but I kept going. I needed to keep going.

He’s almost as lifeless as Max was when I stop, breathless, sweaty, and covered in his blood.

King lets Ricky fall to the ground. “Time for a break, brother. We’ll get him strung up ready for you.”

I step outside. I’ve lost track of time and day; all I know is what’s behind me and what’s directly in front of me. Max’s death and my vengeance. Nothing else matters right now.

When I go back inside, Ricky is hanging from the roof, face down, gag removed. This is one of King’s preferred ways of inflicting torture. For the first time in my life, I understand King’s need for it. Max’s death has stirred the demon residing in the black pits of my soul.

I grip Ricky’s face and crush it between my fingers. The pressure rouses him and he jerks before crying out in pain.

Bringing my face close, I rasp, “Keep screaming. It’s the best fucking sound I’ve heard in my life.”

He tries to move out of my hold, lurching to the side.

I grab him again when he swings back. Holding his face with one hand, I punch him with my other fist. He screams again and my demon howls with pleasure.

We play this game for a while. Until I need more to sate my beast.