Devil's Vengeance (Sydney Storm MC 3)

Griff’s voice crackled over the handheld radio. “We’re in position. You?” He was with the other group of eight members in the third van positioned on the other side of the clubhouse.

“Good to go,” King spoke into his radio.

The helicopter pilot’s voice filtered through. “Two minutes for me.”

Adrenalin flooded my body as I gripped my rifle.

I was ready.

Ready to finally annihilate the club that had caused ours so much pain and loss.

Time ticked by slowly while we waited out the two minutes. My breathing slowed when the helicopter finally came into sight. I followed its lights and watched, with deep satisfaction, as it dropped the satchel bomb over the clubhouse. I couldn’t see the bomb, but I knew it was there. And when it detonated forty-five seconds after it was dropped, I almost held my breath waiting for the fire that was our goal to blaze through the building.

“Go, go, go!” King roared into the handheld radio, and Kick drove the van out of the bush where we waited.

He planted his foot, driving like a mad man to get us closer to the clubhouse. When he skidded to a stop, Scott yanked the back door open, and we all jumped out, rifles in hand.

Fanning out into a line, we stormed the perimeter, ready to shoot anyone who exited the building. The team led by Griff were doing the same thing on the other side.

Fire had consumed most of the clubhouse and had begun to spread. We didn’t have long before police and fire would arrive, but the short time we did have would be spent making sure there were no survivors.

King raised his hand, and at his signal, we all lifted our rifles and fired into the clubhouse. Screams and chaos had taken over the Silver Hell compound, but not many members had tried to flee. We gunned down the few that did, and hopefully our bullets that we sent into the building took care of any remaining members who were still breathing.

Kick signaled with the horn when our time was up. Everyone stopped firing and turned to head back to the van. As I turned, I caught sight of Dragon stumbling out of the building.

He has to die.

No fucking way was I leaving the Silver Hell president alive. I deviated from the plan and ran towards Dragon instead of towards the van.

“Devil!” Scott yelled, but I ignored him.

Running as fast as I could, I met Dragon within a matter of a minute or so.

“You fucking cunts will pay for this!” he roared.

I pointed my rifle at him. “How do you figure that, asshole? Your club is all dead, and I’m the one standing here with a fucking rifle.”

“You didn’t kill everyone,” he spat.

“Just fucking shoot him!” Scott called out from behind me, getting closer.

My finger hovered over the trigger, ready to squeeze. However, I wanted more from this moment than to simply kill him. I took a step forward right as the first siren sounded.

“For fucks sake,” Scott yelled. “Take him out, Devil, so we can get the fuck out of here.”

Ignoring him still, I closed the distance between Dragon and me. Blood roared in my ears as I got closer. It was finally time to end this madness.

“You’re a fucking pussy.” Dragon tried to provoke me, but I was focused on my outcome.

More sirens rang out in the night air.

I dropped my rifle and took a swing at Dragon. My fist connected with his face, and I knocked him down with one punch. Automatic pilot kicked in then, and I was on top of him without realising it, landing punch after punch onto his face and body. It wasn’t until hands slid under my shoulders and pulled me off him that I came to my senses.

King’s voice filtered into my consciousness. “He’s almost dead, Devil. Take your fucking rifle and finish him off so we can get the fuck out of here before the cops turn up.”

He shoved my rifle at me, and waited for me to do as he’d said. I turned the gun on Dragon, squeezed the trigger, and ended his shitty life.

27