Page 30 of Property of Necro (Kings Of Anarchy MC: Illinois #1)

Then again, I don’t have any tattoos. Who needs those when I’ve got scars? Lots and lots of scars. Also, I’m not a rapist, racist prick who sells women to the highest bidder. That’s all him.

This collection of criminals I plan to snuff out came from Kade.

A biker in the Sacred Sinners, Texas Chapter.

He and his old lady Rosie take down sex trafficking rings and the like.

She usually lets him have his fun with their finds, but when they collect too many, they send the scraps our way to make disappear.

We’re good at that.

Out of the goodness of their hearts, they also send a woman or two to slake Coffin’s hunger.

Kade’s also one of my many Red Room subscribers. So he gets to see his benevolence firsthand.

I hope he likes what I have planned next.

Why is he just sitting there?

Is Necro really going to let this man touch me?

What’s his play?

I’m going to kill Coffin and Rot for putting me through this.

Assholes.

Such fucking assholes.

The skinhead with a short, coke-can-sized cock licks his lips obscenely as he advances on me.

If he thinks he can stick that thing anywhere near me, he has another thing coming.

I’ll rip it off. I’ve never done it before, but it can be the first dick I’ll add to my trophy room that Coffin was going on about.

Not that I want one of those, a severed cock or a trophy room, but a single prick in a jar.

Just one. Sure. That might work. Maybe Coffin would let me put it in his trophy room—my single win.

Ugh.

I gotta get my act together and do something.

Necro’s as useless as a mannequin. Oh. I can feel his eyes on me, but he hasn’t moved an inch. Unfortunately, thick-thighed, could-eat-me-for-breakfast Nazi dude has.

He slips closer, and there’s precum glistening on the head of his cock.

I sure hope Necro’s followers are paying a lot of money to watch because I don’t like this one bit.

I also expect some of that money to end up in my bank account.

Consider it me cashing in on pain and suffering. I think I deserve it.

“Come on, honey. Spread those legs. I can see the carpet matches the drapes.”

Ew.

Who says that?

Swallowing the sudden throw-up in my throat, I tug my t-shirt down so he doesn’t get any view of any of my private parts as I glare at him. “Fuck you.” I spit at his feet.

The man laughs.

It’s brash and echoes in the small room, ringing in my ears .

He strokes himself harder, like me fighting him is a turn-on.

Gross.

He peeks over at Necro to see what he’s up to.

Nothing.

He’s up to nothing.

“I look forward to keeping your severed cock in a jar,” I taunt the man, my voice sounding a whole lot more confident than I feel.

He scoffs and steps a foot closer. “Oh. Yeah? How ya gonna do that?”

“Rip it off.” I snap my teeth at him and fake snarl, sounding pretty convincing if I do say so myself.

Some jackass in the corner who’s pretending not to exist snorts. It’s low, but I hear it. I whip my head in his direction. “You have something to add?”

Pacing around Rot’s office like a bear hopped on the best coke, I can’t stop watchin’ the feed.

Twenty-six thousand views and counting. “She’s hot.

Right? That’s hot. Fuck.” I grip my erection over the front of my jeans, damn near close to whipping it out and jacking off.

There’s already a stain forming from how turned on I am. My balls ache.

I look down at my damaged pec.

She marked me.

Fuck.

That’s hot.

Those little tooth imprints and the blood, I wish I would never have to wash them off.

“Yeah. She’s hot, but Necro needs to get up. That sick fuck is gettin’ too close.”

Stepping next to Rot, I slap him upside the head. “No. Shit. This was your dumbass idea.”

“Why is he just sittin’ there like that?” Rot slams his fist on the desk. “Get the fuck up!”

“Did you hear her say she wants to keep his severed cock in a jar? We’re gonna do that, right?” Pride blooms in my chest.

“Fuck yeah, we are.”

“Good.” I nod and continue to pace. ‘Cause I can’t sit still. That’s our woman in there, and Necro’s decided to nap on the job.

“We should’ve run this by him,” Rot throws out.

“No. Shit. Sherlock. He’s pissed. He already said we’re gonna pay.”

“As long as he makes us pay and not, Sola, I don’t give a fuck.”

The Nazi crowds into Sola’s corner, and she shrinks to the ground. Rot clicks a million buttons on his computer, trying to see what’s happening. “Fuck! Come on.”

The guy shakes his cock, and precum lands on Sola’s mask.

Oh. Hell no!

That’s it .

Slipping my knife out of the side of my boot, I storm to the door. If Necro wants to sit this one out, so be it. But I’m done. He needs to die.

Rot grips my shoulder and spins me around just as I reach the handle. I shrug him off. “I’m not lettin’ this fuckin’ happen. This is your fault!” I boom and shove the asshole in the chest, and he stumbles back.

Snarling at me, pissed I put my hands on him, Rot shoves me harder in return. “I didn’t know, okay?!” Rot’s gaze bores into mine with such intensity. “Trust our prez, brother. Trust. Him.”

And then what? What if he doesn’t step in? What if we can’t trust him…. What… Sola’s blood-curdling scream severs my thoughts… and my heart… it fucking explodes.

A horrified scream burns my throat as warm, penny-scented blood rains down my hair, my face, my shirt, and into my lap.

It pools on the floor beneath me. Slick.

Gross. Desperate to see, I frantically wipe at my face, but the mask gets in the way.

I want to tear it off, but I know I shouldn’t. Not with the live feed.

Is that blood on my lips ?

Rubbing them together, the taste seeps into my mouth, and I gag, spitting what I can onto the floor.

This can’t be happening.

The scent of carnage suffuses the air as I yank my shirt up and wipe what I can from my eyes. By some miracle, I find a spot not soiled.

I blink a million times…and finally, the world focuses as my heart thunders like a thousand horses in my chest.

The squelch of mutilating flesh fills the air.

Gripping my stomach, I swallow down my need to retch.

Necro’s on the man.

The man who dripped precum on my face.

I’m pretty sure he’s dead as Necro straddles his hips with his back facing me.

Is that a severed dick on the floor?

I scramble to stand and slip a dozen times on blood not of my own as I use the wall to gain purchase and find Necro brutalizing the corpse of what used to be the skinhead.

His eyeballs are gone. Plucked out and tossed against the wall, leaving little dots of gore where they must have collided.

Necro’s scarred back rises and falls as he savagely tears into the man’s chest with what looks to be a knife.

Where did that come from?

I step around them, not wanting to disturb his… whatever this is.

Wait. He’s carving into the flesh, not tearing.

The word M.Y. spans the man’s pecs. Below it, Necro carves the letters S.O.U .

Pausing the blade, gripped crudely in his fist, Necro looks up and locks those intense blue-white eyes on mine. He nods to the man whose throat he slashed. That must be why there’s such a mess. It’s half severed from his body. That takes a lot of force—a lot of anger.

He sets the knife on the center of the man’s chest and lifts his hands like he wants to say something, then drops them just as quickly, realizing I can’t understand him. His brow furrows, and he looks down. Shaking his head, he picks up the knife, and my gut sinks.

He’s sad.

I can feel it.

I don’t know how, but I do.

Necro’s thick shoulders hunch forward as he cuts away at the man’s stomach with less fervor.

Needing him to know that I can understand him, that I see him, and that I appreciate him standing up for me, I step closer and cautiously lay my hand on Necro’s shoulder, knowing he hates to be touched.

He jerks in surprise, and I tug my hand away, not wanting to offend him.

“I can understand you,” I whisper, meeting his gaze as he looks up at me again. Cautious. On edge. With a quirk of his brow, like he doesn’t get what I’m saying.

To show him what I mean, I give him a little piece of myself that I never share with anyone, and sign, I understand you.

His eyes widen, soft and innocent like a child’s—adorably hopeful. Stabbing the blade into the man’s cheek, he replies, You sign?

My mother was deaf , I reply .

Something passes over the half of Necro’s face I can see. Tears well in his eyes, and a violent shiver ripples through him as little goosebumps sprout all over his blood-cloaked form.

Sighing, he sits back on the man’s thighs, and his shoulders sag as if the weight he’s been bearing for ages no longer exists. I have so much I want to tell you.

My stupid, mixed-up little heart gives a hopeful thump.

It’s nice to hear from him for once. Seeing his words directed at me, not someone else, I didn’t realize how lonely it was to spend months around him, without ever getting to talk.

Apart from the few bits and pieces I’ve picked up over time, I don’t really know a whole lot about him.

Considering my reason for being here, I figured he didn’t want me to.

Playing it cool, I force myself not to smile. “I’m happy to listen,” I say aloud.

With a simple dip of his masked chin, he nods, gaze locked on mine.

The heavy door to the room opens. Rot steps inside before Coffin fills the frame, curving his fingers over the top edge, legs spread wide, a clear outline of arousal in his pants.

“Come on, Prez. Let’s get you showered.” Rot waves for Necro to get off the corpse.

Glaring up at his brother, Necro flips him off.

“Yeah. I know you’re pissed at us.”

Necro swings his attention to me. It softens around the edges. Meet me in my bedroom. Please.

“Your bedroom?” I ask, shock evident in my voice.

Next to yours. I left the door unlocked .

Twisting my hands in front of me, I nod.