I was tired of shit people thinking they could get away with doing the evil of the world. I was tired of good people dying for their cause. I was tired of burying people who should be living while evil fuckers roamed and wreaked havoc wherever they went.
Looking at my brothers sitting around the table, I knew they wanted blood. I didn’t blame them because I wanted it to. Yet something was still holding me back. I could still see her face clearly, her eyes pleading with me. I may not remember much about her, but she was kind, and she did me a solid.
“Phantom, how long does Gadget need before he can leave?”
Gadget came to the club via Phantom. He was a strange kid but intelligent as hell. He could blend into any surroundings and never be seen. He was a chameleon and my best shot at getting Aariaani out alive.
“Ten minutes, maybe less.”
“I want him to scout the area, get pics, names the works. We need to know how many and exactly who we were dealing with. Mainly I want eyes on Aariaani. I want to know where she is at all times.”
“Will she cooperate?”
“I think so. In my dream, she seemed scared but nice. She didn’t want to be there. I can’t really explain it, but I think she wants out and can’t leave.”
Phantom closed her laptop and got to her feet, heading for the door as she said, “I will tell him to leave immediately.
“Massacre gather the team. We leave within the hour.”
“We’re short one member, boss.” Massacre said, getting to his feet.
Turning to my brother, I asked, “Feel like a road trip?”
Grimm nodded, then left with Massacre.
“Chaos, you take Grimm’s place until we return.”
Chaos grinned, looking at Reaper, who rolled his eyes and sighed. “I don’t need a fucking babysitter.”
“It’s either Chaos or Vicious, brother. Take your pick?”
“Fucker,” Reaper growled the added. “You do what you need to do out there and stay alive.”
“Will do.”
Reaper stood, slamming his gavel down on the table. “Meeting over.”
Six
Aariaani
“Aariaani, have you made your decision?”
I looked up at the man I called Uncle and cringed. The man I once loved and adored. Now, all I saw was evil. A sinister soul determined to make me bend to his will. He was nothing but a bully—a mean, hateful man who craved what he couldn’t have. I would rather die than let him have me.
This man was supposed to be my family. My only family left in this horrible world. He was supposed to protect me, love me, and yet, he wanted to destroy me. My family was something nightmares were made of. How any one person could be so cruel, I would never know. I’d seen the work of the devil himself, and not even God could save him.
When my mother was still alive, I liked to believe at one point, we were normal, like everyone else. My parents were honest people, who worked, paid their bills, attended church on Sundays. We were just your average normal family. We had family dinners, laughed, talked, and enjoyed our lives. We were a typical American family.
Only we weren’t.
At first, we were happy. I remember my mother laughing and enjoying the life we led. That was until she got sick. I still didn’t understand how she could be perfectly fine one day and dead the next. Her death gutted me, and I leaned heavily on the church afterward, trusting in God and his teachings to see me through her grief. My father, not so much. Almost overnight, he remarried a woman in our community, leaving me with my Uncle. He was the leader of our church, and according to him, a daughter not of the womb of the mother must live with relatives until she is wedded herself.
It was hard at first, but after a while, I learned to accept my fate. My father was remarried and happy with his new wife. He was pleased with his new children. When he saw me, he would say hello, but never the fatherly hugs I once received, nor the loving kisses or praises. For all intense and purposes, he was a stranger to me now.
As for my Uncle, he was pure evil. I learned that firsthand last year when my Uncle killed a woman refusing to submit to the Lord. It was hideous, and I still can’t sleep most nights. Her screams still keep me awake, knowing that soon, I will receive the same fate.
If I hadn’t seen the ceremony with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it either. Nothing says God is Love like my Uncle dressed in a long black cloak with an actual goat’s skull on his head with horns, chanting about servitude to Satan. But what really hit it home for me was when I saw my Uncle plunge a ceremonial dagger into the woman’s chest and drink her blood.