Page 13 of Sons of Hellfire (Hellfire Society #1)
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Riot
T here’s a moment in every man’s life when he has to decide whether he wants to be a hero or a villain in his story.
The hero does good. He saves the day, helps old ladies cross the road, stops crime when he sees it, and says please and thank you.
The hero will find a woman worthy of his name, have a family of do-gooders and have picnics in the park.
He will work long, hard hours, probably complain about it, but knows he is a good, caring, and faithful man who provides for his family.
Then there is the villain. He does very bad things, but for what he thinks is a good reason.
Hell, sometimes he doesn’t even need a reason.
He couldn't care less about the old lady but still helps her. He plans the crimes and hasn’t said please or thank you in years, simply takes what he wants.
The villain is the man who will find a woman, place her on a pedestal, and worship the ground she walks on.
He will come home covered in blood just to show his wife he is keeping his family safe and provided for after a long day’s work.
I’m a villain.
I’ve always known it. I was raised a heathen and told I could rule the world if I set it on fire myself.
See, I learned early on that people are afraid of crazy.
They act like it’s contagious or something.
If you get too close to someone insane, you might catch it yourself.
It’s not true. You can’t catch crazy. No, if you get close enough, you end up dead.
I imagined a lot of things could have been happening when we heard a feminine yelp.
None of the things were good, which is why we came to check it out.
We all might not blink at cold-blooded killing, but harming a woman is crossing a line in our book.
Yes, even criminals like us can have a moral compass.
Arsen’s family deals in skin and doesn’t currently give women an option.
Which is why we want to officially take over.
We have an entire plan on how to rebuild the Hellfire Society.
Our fathers won’t approve, but they won’t be able to do anything once we take our rightful thrones.
Before rushing in, we waited to see what was really going on.
We can’t go getting ahead of ourselves in the middle of death games.
For all we know, it could be a trap. What decent man, with actual balls, wouldn’t rush to save a woman?
But then the voice that’s haunted my dreams since last night spoke, and my entire body tensed, ready to rush in without a thought.
Arsen, being the rational one, had us wait, which is irritating but understandable. We don’t know what we are up against.
Play it smart, Riot. Our wife could be in serious trouble if we don’t play this right.
I tried to hold back, kinda. But when I heard one fucker threaten my woman, zippers undoing and the sound of someone being hit, there was no holding back. I was going to slaughter every single last one of them for even looking at my little beastie.
I race around Arsen and enter the doorway. I immediately count six men, all in an array of undress. One already has his limp dick hanging out.
You know, I thought nothing was possible of boiling my blood, getting me to the point of seeing a pure red angry haze.
I’ve always been the reckless, crazy one, yeah, but I’ve never been blacked out with rage.
But as I take in the scene before me, that is what I feel.
Like the fires of hell are surrounding me, but not burning me. No, giving me power.
Arsen and Cash come rushing in after me, and everyone is still. Them taking us in; us taking them in. Ali is lying on the floor, her body covered in grime and small smears of blood.
That better be someone else’s blood.
All six men are wearing suits and what I think are president masks, if the top hat and Lincoln-looking beard is any clue. The George Washington-looking guy is the first one to speak.
“Who the fuck are you and what do you want?” he asks, turning to face the three of us and steps slightly in front of Ali, as if trying to hide her.
Arsen shifts next to me. “Her.” is all he says, and my fists clench in anticipation of what this fucker is going to say.
Honestly, even if he handed my wife over with no issues, he wouldn’t be leaving this room alive.
None of them are, but it’s Washington’s next words that have every frayed fabric of my sanity snapping.
He chuckles, glancing down at Ali before straightening his posture towards us. “You can have a turn after me and my boys.”
The knife Ali stabbed me with earlier is out and flying through the air within seconds.
Its blade hits home, sliding through Washington’s head like a hot knife through butter.
The moment the man’s body slumps to the ground, chaos ensues.
The three of us have the advantage of not having our pants around our ankles, literally and figuratively.
Three of the soon-to-be-dead again presidents have weapons, but me and the guys are faster.
Fists collide as we disarm the weapon holders.
Arsen grabs a bat from one and starts swinging away.
Cash doesn’t even bother using a weapon, diving headfirst into a fist-to-fist fight with two of them.
We force them to shift back, away from the unmoving Ali, still unconscious in the middle of the room.
I approach the one who already had his dick out.
He is scrambling to pull his pants up as I unwind my stolen chain and swing.
The non-semi clean chain wraps around Richard Nixon’s head right before I yank him to me.
He stumbles forward before losing his balance and falling to the floor.
Being partly smart, he turns over to face me head-on, but that’s where he makes his mistake.
He never got his pants up in time, and his dick is still shriveled up in the wind.
Before he can process what I’m doing, my foot is up, and I’m stomping on his tiny micropenis.
Then, like music to my ears, he screams as I grind my booted foot into his groin.
I don’t stop until I hear a small pop, and blood gushes under my boot.
Nixon has already passed out from the pain, pussy, so I step back and glance down in disgust.
I must have zoned out the rest of the room because when I finally turned, the last four presidents are dead again. Cash and Arsen are breathing heavily, but no worse for wear. Knowing the threat is now gone, my eyes snap to the whole reason we are here. Ali.
“Fuck, baby.” I rush back to her, kneeling down and swiping the hair away from her mask and face.
My assessment of dirt was right. She is covered, like she might have slept in it.
She needs a bath. I wonder if she would let me join.
Maybe I could tell her I can wash her back.
I shake my head at those thoughts. I run my hands down her body, making sure she’s not seriously injured.
The blood I noticed before is dried, and there are no obvious cuts, so I don’t think it’s her blood.
I frown when my hands run down her back and I can feel raised, rough marks.
Marks that feel familiar. The rage that was dissipating starts to simmer. Who the fuck did this to her?
I feel Cash and Arsen shift behind me. Probably making sure our guests stay dead and checking them and the room for supplies.
I shift Ali so that she’s tucked in my arms, something softer than this hard, uneven floor.
Her head plops against my chest, and I see these assholes gave her a busted lip and bruised cheek.
If they weren’t already dead, I would torture the ever-loving fuck out of them. Damn me and my impulsive choices.
“Alright, let’s get her back to camp. I’m sure she will wake up swinging, so let’s get her comfortable, and then two of us can go out for more supplies.
She might react better if only one of us is there when she wakes up.
” Cash says, stepping up to me. I cradle Ali tighter against my chest, letting him know I have her.
He gives me a nod before leaning down and grabbing the knife still stuck in Washington’s head.
It releases with a slurp sound, but none of us bat an eye.
With everything gathered and ready to go, we make our way back to where we camped last night.
Glancing back down at my little beastie, I take her in.
She looks so serene right now. Nothing like the feral woman I first laid eyes on.
A thought occurs then. We finally caught the feral little thing.
That means she’s mine. Ours. Leaning down, I press my lips to hers for a second.
I think I see her eyelids flutter, but she remains unconscious.
“Finders keepers, Ali.” I tell her. Soon she will wake up and realize what that truly means.