Outcasts (Badlands 3)

“Look what just happened a few months ago—our own fucking informants were turning from the inside. Ask yourself why, and then take into account Beth just happened to come around when that crazy bitch, Tiffany, did. She spontaneously ran away, making it out of The Kingdom, and Noah’s working with Romero out of the kindness of his heart?”

“No one with even a quarter of a brain would fuck with the Savages. Yet, now these Venom fucks are involved. Noah isn’t controlling them, so that tells us someone they feel is just as big as Romero is. And they have to be selling a pretty convincing dream.”

I waited for them to catch on; it only took Cobra a minute.

“Well, fuck. Do you think Rome knows?”

“Knows that he could never trust Noah? Yes, no one is fucking trusting Noah. Does Rome know Venom is involved? No, me and you didn’t even know that, which means it’s on the DL.”

Cobra ran his hands through his hair, letting out a deep breath. “So the coach is throwing a tantrum because he just lost his QB?” He spoke in code, shooting a subtle glance at Brat, saying all I needed to know without saying a word.

“Hold up a sec. Why would my father do any sort of business with Noah or the…snake dudes? What they could possibly offer him?” Brat asked.

She’d caught onto a good gist of what I was saying, but not the most important parts.

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you on the road.”

“I’ll go find a signal to call Rome. You two get your shit,” Cobra said, already zipping down the hall. “Meet me in the old chapel!”

Brat stared up at me with an expectant look on her face. She wanted answers to all the questions I knew she had, and I didn’t want her to know about any of this. Now, I understood why Rome had kept so much from my sister. The truths, the lies, and the secrets all had the ability to destroy in the right hands.

I wasn’t him, though. And Brat wasn’t Cali. We were our own people. This relationship was just me and her. She hadn’t held anything back from me, and I was going to give her the same benefit. Ignoring our reality wouldn’t bury or erase it.

I reminded myself she’d blown someone’s brains out, watched me gut someone, and made me come like a little fucking boy all within the past few hours. Without giving her a warning, I reached out and grabbed her by the throat.

Her small gasp of surprise was the only emotion she showed.

Forcing her to walk backward, I made her stand right on the edge of the old elevator shaft. If I dropped her, she would die, or break majority of the bones in her supple little body.

Keeping my grip as it was, I waited for her to yell, delving straight down the front of her shorts with my other hand, sliding her back a little more. Now, the back half of her boot was over the ledge.

I pushed two fingers inside her tight cunt, and she moaned. I began to pump them in and out, ignoring how hard my dick was, how fucking beautiful she was, and I waited.

I waited for her to demand I let her go, tell me I was a sick psycho, scream, cry—show any sign that this was all some mental fluke.

I’d want her all the same, but maybe it wouldn’t be to this extent. Every time I fucking looked at her, I

was ready to get down on my knees and worship at her alter.

She made me feel, made me care, laugh, joke.

I made promises to keep her safe and make her strong, show her how beautiful hell was. She said I kept her grounded. Even if this were inevitable, it was happening faster than I thought it would.

She humanized me, and to some people that was no big deal, but when you spent damn near nineteen years dehumanized, killing every women you fucked or didn’t fuck for sport, it was unnerving.

It was having all my don’t give a fucks come back at once in the form of a woman.

Whose bright idea was it to give death the seed of life? Didn’t they know what I’d do to her? Make her a sinner. Be like my brother and think of myself as a king. Crown her my queen of everything dark and dead.

The intense fucking sunlight in her eyes was a siren’s song that would tempt the strongest man.

I wanted to fuck her again and again until a red river was flowing from between her juicy thighs.

“Grimm.” She swallowed audibly, flooding my fingers with her pussy’s arousal, as if she’d heard my last thought aloud, getting more turned on the harsher my grip got.

I could end this all right now and let her go, try and go back to how my life was before. I couldn’t, though. Swinging her away from the ledge, I pressed her into the wall, shoving her shorts down far enough that I could get my dick inside her.

She fumbled with the top button on my jeans, gripping my cast-iron dick and damn near forcing it inside all on her own. I knew she was sore from just twenty minutes ago, and how rough this would be with a wall of peeling paint and half spread legs to accommodate my size. I slammed in to the hilt.