Page 15 of Crave

My cell chimed making me jump. I grabbed it from my jacket and glanced at the message.

Unknown:Enjoying the Order?

What. The. Fuck?

My pulse kicked, then raced as I spun around, strode back into the hallway and scanned the empty hallway. That eerie feeling in the pit of my stomach grew colder. I looked down, punching out a reply.

Who the fuck is this?

Send.

Beep.

Unknown:You’ll find out.

“Fuck you.” I spat, rage moving in to replace fear.

I needed to get out of here…and now. I started walking back the way I came…until I stopped at that larger room.I’m sure her training will be done by then. Those words from the video surfaced. It sounds like Angelica is quite the natural when it comes to giving head.

The cells.

The doors.

The blood…and this room, big enough for training. This place made me want to run from here and never look back. My boots ricocheted as I hurried, fighting the urge to fucking flee. The moment I slammed out of the front I sucked in hard breaths. I’d been so thankful to see my bike.

I yanked on my hemet, started the machine and took off, punching it hard until I slowed at the gate. The moment I was through I was out of there…desperate to get back to the blaring, rush of the city.

But I didn’t go home. I couldn’t…instead I headed for the Lair, slowing the bike as I cruised into the side street and turned, catching sight of the boys sitting in parked hard. One leaned out of the open driver’s door, nodding at me as I passed.

He’d call in, letting them know it was me. Couldn’t be too careful lately. There was some strange shit going down, even here. I slowed the bike, pulling into the derelict compound, past the smashed down brick wall, and parked.

Illegal fights.

Street racing.

Raves.

We had it all.

I parked the bike between a cherry red Lamborghini Huracán and a lime green Nissan GT-R, switching off the Ducati and climbed off. Iron’s men patrolled the grounds and crowded thedoorway. I stepped up, raising my arms. The pat down was fast, swiping the wand before the big guy ran his hands over me.

“Silas.” Iron called as the thud…thud…thud of his cane echoed before the old guy stepped out from around the ruins. “What do I owe this pleasure?”

I gave a shrug. “Who’s fighting?”

Iron squinted. “A couple of punks from out of town, mostly foreplay really.”

“So not like Carven St. James.”

Iron grew cold suddenly. “No. Not like Carven.”

I gave a nod and stepped past, heading to the right where their homies gathered around. I was here, but I wasn’t here.

“Something you need?” Iron asked.

I shook my head. Yes, that voice whispered. I glanced at him sideways. He waited, not pushing.

“What do you know about the Order?”