Page 8

Reaper

I couldn’t breathe.

The darkness suffocated me.

She was everywhere, but nowhere.

I could hear her voice surrounding me.

See her in the shadows.

Smell her fragrant scent through the musty, stale air.

She haunted my every waking moment.

Locked in this room, I ignored everyone. Not that many came to see me. It had been weeks since I’d seen Montana. I knew that motherfucker wouldn’t show his face for a while.

He fucked up and he knew it.

They both did.

Because of them, the love of my life was out there, somewhere, believing she had killed me. God, I tried not to think of the turmoil Remi must be feeling. The despair and anguish that it was causing her soul. I didn’t blame her. Never her.

I blamed them.

It was all their fault.

I knew that.

I could have told them to go to hell, but I didn’t.

My woman consumed me and before I knew it, all I could think about was making sure she was safe. Dead or alive, I would spend the rest of my life ensuring that.

Pictures of that bitch fucking me filtered in my head.

Fuck. My woman thought I was like all those other nasty fucks that hurt her. That I was no better than the men who raped her. Her whole life, she trusted no one. For a brief time, she trusted me, but not anymore. All because of one fucked-up decision on my part.

Why did I agree to work with them?

More importantly, why did I align myself with the fucking Soulless Sinners? I fucking knew what they were about.

I wasn’t stupid.

Yes, the Soulless Sinners were the biggest MC in the world and there was a reason for that. Had nothing to do with loyalty, that was for damn sure.

The reason the Soulless Sinners had amassed the clubs they had was because the sick fucks stole them. Offering their help when asked, the Soulless Sinners would do the bare minimum, and when a club couldn’t maintain, defend, or fulfill the marker required of them, the Soulless Sinners would come in and take everything. They blackmailed a club brother into killing the President before giving the others a choice.

Join or die.

I wondered which of my brothers Montana ordered to kill me?

Oh, on the outside, the Soulless Sinners seemed like a good choice. The club was notorious for its charitable contributions, community service, and eagerness to help, but that was all for show.

The truth was the Soulless Sinners MC was a one percenter club that made its own rules.