Page 7 of Savage Possession (Savage Reign #3)

ASH

T he night air in Haven always tastes different when there’s trouble brewing. It’s got an electric tang and tastes like metal and ozone right before a bayou thunderstorm. I feel it crawling up my spine as soon as the first rumble of Harley engines splits the hush on Main Street.

I lower Isa to the floor and hold her until she finds her balance. “Is that your crew brothers?”

There’s innocent hope in her voice.

“No, angel. That’s not the Savages. The cadence is all wrong.”

I slide Isa to my side, keeping my arm possessively around her waist for a second longer than I should. Her torn satin dress clings to her petite frame, making her look breakable, almost ghostly through the slits of light coming in from the streetlights.

But the stubborn tilt of her chin and the blue fire in her eyes say otherwise. That’s the first thing that drew me to her, that contradiction of soft and fierce yet scared and stubborn as hell.

“Stay here,” I tell her, my voice rougher than I intended.

I don’t wait for her argument. She’s shivering from adrenaline or fear—maybe both—and has no business in the middle of whatever is about to go down.

I push her behind me with a hand splayed across her delicate hip, feeling how tiny she is compared to the monster I’ve become in this life. I flick the lock and step into the street, the clang of the bookstore’s bell still jangling.

Neon from the Broken Chapter sign throws jagged light over the cracked pavement.

My boots make a heavy thud that syncs with the thuds of my heartbeat.

No one rides into Savage Reign territory without an invitation, and tonight their welcome crew is little ’ol me.

I’m outnumbered and in a mood to bleed if it means keeping Isa safe.

A small hand settles between my shoulder blades.

Isa.

Of course, she doesn’t listen.

I feel her behind me, her touch burning the middle of my back through the leather of my cut.

She’s stubborn, but her courage makes my chest ache in a way I never expected.

I never saw myself as the kind of man who’d fall—much less fall first—but I’d walk through fire for her, and I don’t even know why.

Maybe it’s the way she looks at me, like I’m the only man in the world who can save her, even though she’s apparently survived more than her fair share of shitty situations.

The Vultures roar to a stop five across, hogging the center of Main like they own it.

Their president, Grudge, peels himself off the back of one bike and throws a shit-eating grin my way.

Streetlights glare off the gold in his teeth, making him look even more like a villain from an old New Orleans ghost story.

I push Isa further behind me, shielding her with my body. “Angel, if I don’t make it out of this, you run. Lock yourself in the bookstore safe and set off the alarm. Reaper or one of my brothers will come for you. You hear me?”

She opens her mouth to protest. “But, Ash?—”

“No arguments.” My voice is rough with regret and rising worry. I’m not arrogant enough to think I can take on six guys with two guns. I risk a glance over my shoulder, meet her wide, terrified eyes, and lower my voice. “Promise me.”

She nods, lips trembling.

I step forward, letting every one of those Vultures see exactly who they’re dealing with. My shadow swallows Isa. I want her as far from this as possible, but she clings to me, her hand still on my back, grounding me, making it clear she’s not running unless I’m dead.

I scan Grudge and his men. They look cocky, like the kind of bastards who think numbers mean power. They’re wrong. Haven belongs to the Savages, and even if I’m alone tonight, I’ll make them remember why they steer clear of our parish.

“I see you’re finally someone’s little bitch, Grudge. What happened to get you on the back of your VP’s bike? Lose a coin toss?”

Grudge’s eyes narrow.

He swings his leg off the bike, jaw jutting and his head thrown back with that damn chin of his begging to get cracked with a solid right hook.

The fucker has his hand hovering near his piece, but I see the tremor. The Vultures might be mean, but they’re not fearless. They know if I put a bullet in them, their bodies disappear.

“Better yet, did you lose something?” My voice cuts through the night, low and mocking.

He sneers, glancing past me at Isa, who stands defiant in her ruined dress. “Give us the Fontaine bitch, Draven, and we’ll leave you in one piece. No harm, no foul.”

I bark a laugh, letting the street swallow the sound. “Those are big words for the likes of you given where you are standing.” I shake my head slowly. “Nah. Doesn’t work like that, man. You crossed a line. And you brought your boys for backup? That shit is what gets you in a grave and you know it.”

One of the Vultures pipes up, voice cracking under bravado. “You ain’t got nobody here who’s gonna help you beat six guns to your one, Ash. Be smart. Give our prez his bitch and we’ll be on our way.”

He’s swinging his gun like it’s a laser pointer and we are at a corporate meeting.

I ignore the idiot and address the only one of the Vultures who has half a brain. “Grudge,” I say, flashing a wolfish grin, “maybe you should reconsider.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, I shrug off my cut just enough to flash my holstered weapons beneath my arms. My favorite pieces. Polished steel. Heavy, reliable. Gifts from Reaper for my birthday a few weeks back. I’ve been eager to try them out.

“Reaper says the hole these girls leave in a man’s chest is big enough to put your fist through. I’ve been curious to test the theory. Who wants to volunteer?”

A hush falls. Even the cicadas and frogs go silent.

Isa, bless her wild heart, is still behind me, but I feel her small hand slide under my shirt. Skin on skin distracts me for a minute. Her touch is warm and steady.

“Angel, take the phone out of my back pocket. The security code is nine, eight, two, five.

I feel her take the phone.

“Okay.”

There’s a soft tremor in her voice. I keep my eyes on the danger in front of me.

“Pull up a guy named Storm and give ’em a call and put it on speaker, woulda?”

“Done.”

I hear the faint hum of the call going through. “Storm’s on the line,” she whispers, holding the phone high.

“Good girl.” I throw a wink over my shoulder and tell my brother the problem in a nutshell. “So. Um…I just kidnapped a Vulture bride. Long story. Shit is about to go down.”

I could laugh if it weren’t so fucking real.

“We’re in front of the bookstore and they think I’m going to give her back. If you don’t hear from me in a few, you might wanna check on me.”

“Okay, angel.”

She ends the call while I keep my eyes glued to Grudge’s twitchy hands.

“You sure you don’t wanna reconsider your stance, Grudge?

” I call out, tilting my hand so the streetlight glints off my gun.

“Ride away, and I might forget you crossed Savage territory. Stay, and my Prez will hear about it. Remember the last time he paid you a visit? How many men did you lose that night?”

Grudge’s hands clench around the handles of his guns, and his men shuffle nervously. They remember the ones who met Reaper’s wrath and didn’t make it. And the ones who did can’t walk properly after a couple of bullets to their kneecaps.

Don’t judge. They had it coming.

“You’ve got my bride. That makes her my property. I can cross any line I want to get her back.”

“Actually, no, you can’t.”

A new voice slides out of the darkness behind the Vultures, smooth and beautifully lethal.

“Fuck brother. I didn’t think you were ever gonna step in and give me a hand.”

“Just watchin’ the show.”

His smile makes me think Venom has a bit of crazy in him. Venom steps from the shadows of the bookstore entrance and presses the barrel of his gun to the back of Grudge’s head. The click of the hammer is loud enough to make everyone flinch.

“You know that guy?” Isa whispers, her nails biting into my arm.

“Yeah, angel. You’re in good hands.” I keep my eyes locked on Grudge as the whites of his eyes grow big.

Venom is a lethal motherfucker on a good day and the Vulture president knows it.

Put a gun in Venom’s hand and a reason to pull the trigger and the crew's medic turns into stuff that nightmares are made of.

He says he had a good childhood, but playtime in a sandbox and cool birthday parties do not put ghosts in people's eyes like his. The man has suffered. He just won’t share, but that's okay.

I need his darkness tonight because one way or another my angel walks out of this little standoff, even if it takes my life and my entire brotherhood.

Venom gives me a curt nod as a silent confirmation that we’re in this together.

I raise my voice, cold and clear. “Toss your guns in the gutter, get back on your rides, and get the fuck out of Haven. You so much as twitch, Venom will paint the pavement with your rotten brains.”

Venom slides a second gun from his holster, leveling it at another Vulture. Even in the poor light, I see panic bloom across the punk’s face.

Grudge glares and thinks if he heaves like a beast one of us will cower. “You think this is over, Draven? You think you can keep her? She belongs to me. Her father gave me that bitch and I plan on collecting her.”

“Not tonight,” I say, grinning. “Tonight, she’s under Savage protection. You come for her again, you’ll leave in a body bag.”

The tension hangs in the humid air.

Then, Venom fires a single, deafening shot and I swear I see Grudge’s soul leave his body for a second. His scream echoes off the brick, blood spraying as the bullet tears through the top of his ear. He drops to his knees, clutching his head, howling.

I welcome the instant satisfaction of drawing blood. I only wish it was with my gun. “Get moving or the next one will pierce your heart.”

The other Vultures break, scrambling for their bikes. Within seconds, engines snarl and they roar off, red taillights swallowed by the night.