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Chapter thirty-three

Pain.

It’s going to be my companion for the next twelve minutes as my brothers dole out my punishment for my crime against the brotherhood.

Earned every second of it, no doubt, but fuck, ain’t looking forward to going up against my club brothers.

It was always a possibility when I chose to help Bailee. Fucking knew that, but making sure my woman was safe would always be worth it.

When I step outside the clubhouse doors and into the lot, I inhale deeply, pulling the fresh air into my lungs. Gonna be smothered with the sharp tang of blood before long.

Scent of fumes from the bikes, cigarette and weed, and excitement tinge the air around me as I head toward where the crowd is congregated. A lot of the members don’t know why I’m receiving punishment, so they just clap me on the back as I pass, but I expect that to change when Wraith lays out my charges to the watchers.

Once I reach the “ring”, the members part and allow me to step in. The ring is basically a fenced in area off the side of the compound. The “floor” is concrete, and it’s been cleared of anything that could be a hazard. Other than my brothers’ fists, anyway. Wraith stands in the middle with his arms folded over his chest. His torso is bare underneath his cut which he’ll remove when it’s his round with me. His face is blank as he watches me step toward him.

When I come to a stop in front of him and lift my chin, he gives a small, stiff nod before facing the watchers.

“Steel,” he booms, his voice reaching to those toward the back of the lot. “You’re here to face your jurors in Court for the actions you’ve taken against the club. Instead of trusting your brothers to have your back, you chose to keep your woman a secret at one of our properties. Your secret has brought us the attention of a rival club and damage has been done because of it. You are to serve a three-month probationary period for the stripping of your rank. At the end of those three months, a vote will be taken that you will not be present for to decide the future of your spot in office. You are also sentenced to twelve minutes in Court. You will face your jurors in a three-round pyramid. Smokey is your first juror. Should you make it through your round with him, you’ll move on to round two, where your jurors will be Gremlin and Jagger. This is where many would fail.” He smirks. “We know you won’t, which means you’ll move to your final round. Your jurors will be Crow, Tweek, and myself. Don’t worry. We’ll leave you breathing, brother.”

His lip curls on that last word.

Fuck.

He’s going to make sure I’m feeling this by the time they’re done with me.

“I always find it fun to play with my food before I eat it,” Jagger drawls, flicking his knife opened and closed.

I don’t say anything, knowing he’s trying to get under my skin.

If I was facing any other people, I’d be leery. These are my brothers, and I trust them with my life. They won’t go so far that I won’t go home to my girls. They’re just going to make sure I do it in the most painful way possible.

Weapons aren’t allowed. It’s just bare skin meeting bare skin.

“Are you ready to face your jurors?” Wraith asks.

Pulling my cut from my shoulders, I hand it to Kiwi, watching as Keaton steps forward and does the same. “Ready to serve my sentence, Prez.”

He turns to Keaton. “You ready to hand out his punishment?”

“Fucking right I am,” the prospect replies in that gravelly voice of his before turning to smile at me.

We both step into the middle of the ring.

“You must serve your two minutes with Prospect Keaton. You’re given permission to return hits, but you’re not allowed to protect yourself from the hits coming at you. If you retreat, you have the choice of either being stripped of your rank immediately or returning to Court with added jurors,” Wraith explains.

“Won’t retreat,” I state.

He nods. “Didn’t assume you would.”

Wraith pulls his phone from his pocket and sets a two-minute timer. Then he lifts his head and smiles wickedly at me. “Let your sentence begin.”

Keaton doesn’t even give a warning before his knuckles meet my jaw, sending my head to the side. Much as I want to retaliate and defend myself, he doesn’t give me much of a chance to. He starts swinging on me, landing hits wherever his fists find skin.

Face.

Kidneys.

Stomach.

Back.

There’s not a spot on me that he doesn’t land a hit to.

My natural reflexes start kicking in after the first few hits and I swing back.

Pain engulfs my body as blood runs down my face, painting the world around me red. The scent of it fills my nostrils, and the bitter metallic tang of it lands on my tastebuds.

I spit the mouthful I have at his feet as we back away from each other for a breather. His dark, smokey eyes are full of fun malice, telling me he’s enjoying this a little too much.

Crazy fuck.

The crowd of bikers, club whores, and Old Ladies goes wild. Screaming and jeering fill the air, urging on the fight.

A glint lights his eyes, and I brace as he comes hammering at me again, his taunting laughter filling my ears as he jabs over and over.

“You’ve served your time with this juror,” Wraith yells out, ending the fight.

I stumble away, my back falling against the fence behind me. Dropping my palms to my knees, I lean over and suck in deep breaths. Agony shoots through me when I do, giving testament to how many hits I’ve taken from Keaton.

Blade steps up to me as Phantom grabs the prospect as he walks out. He’s quick in checking me over.

“These won’t kill you,” he declares. “Just cause you a whole lot of pain.”

He foregoes cleaning the wounds since it would defeat the purpose of going to Court.

I’m meant to feel it all.

Jagger and Gremlin enter the ring, both removing their cuts and passing them to Kiwi, who carries them to her Old Man.

Gremlin bounces on his feet, popping his neck from side to side while Jagger just stands in place, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. His empty stare holds mine, and I know he’s holding in his beast.

I’m more leery of him than I am of Gremlin, and that’s saying something because Gremlin is a motherfucker in a fight.

Wraith steps in front of me again, his eyes roaming over me before he nods. “You ready to face your jurors?”

I take in a deep breath and straighten from my perch against the fence. “Ready to serve my sentence, Prez.”

“Do you choose to face them one-on-one or together?”

“Together, Prez.”

He nods in confirmation. “Four minutes then.”

These two are more methodical in their hits. Gremlin attacks first, his hits landing randomly over me. He’s not the one I’m saving my energy for. It’s the quiet motherfucker who continues to circle me, landing hits in places that are going to inflict the most hurt.

Jagger’s fist aims for my kidney, landing up under my rib cage for maximum result, leaving me choking for air.

I defend against Gremlin’s attack, but as my arm is in the air, Jagger lands another jab to my armpit, deadening my arm and leaving it useless.

Fuck.

These two aren’t letting up, intent on making me retreat to face this all again or lose my position in the club forever.

Not . . .

I land a hit to Gremlin’s jaw, and he stumbles to his knees, so I swing again to hit the other side of his jaw and watch as he falls to his hands.

. . . fucking . . .

Jagger doesn’t allow me to go at Gremlin again. He strikes me on the chin, and my body seizes as jabs of pain spread through my face before I land on my knees next to my brother. Jagger backs away calmly, giving me the space to climb to my feet.

. . . happening.

Once I’m standing, I go on offense and rush Jagger. I don’t think he’s expecting it because I catch the widening of his eyes before my strike lands on his nose. There’s a loud crunch, much like mine sounded when Gremlin broke it before I put him to the ground. Not that it matters to this fucking sociopath in front of me. He just smiles and reaches up to pop it back into place, his tongue poking out to lick up the blood that was pouring down over his lips.

Neither of us get a chance to go at each other again because Wraith steps in and calls the fight.

Jagger and Gremlin both hold their fists out to me.

I curl my fingers, wincing at the pain that shoots through my hand, and bump mine gently against theirs.

The club gives me time for Phantom to check me over. He pops my nose back in place and secures a butterfly bandage over it, but that’s the only thing he does for the wounds I’ve sustained so far.

This time, Thrasher steps into the middle of the ring, his cellphone in hand. “You will now face your final round of jurors. You have your choice of all three at once or one-on-one. Make your choice.”

There’s no fucking way I’ll be able to make it through the round going up against all three at once after that last round with Jagger and Gremlin.

“One-on-one,” I croak.

Thrasher smirks at me, nodding. “One-on-one, you will face your next three jurors for two minutes apiece. If you’re still able to walk out of the ring at the end, your sentence will be served. Are you ready to serve your time?”

I lift my chin, keeping my eyes off the fucking psycho bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Ready to serve my time, SAA.”

Tweek bounces into the ring with us, shooting me a toothy smile and brushing his blue hair from his face. He rolls his head along his shoulders and shakes his arms out.

The twinkling in his eyes freaks me the fuck out. Fucker is enjoying this way too much.

“I’m looking forward to this. Your blood is going to look so pretty when it paints my knuckles,” he taunts.

Around and around, we circle each other as I wait for him to make the first move. Should have fucking known he wouldn’t come straight at me. Fucker likes playing too much.

“Crazy fuck,” I mutter.

Tweek dances on his tiptoes, coming closer and aiming a few fake punches at me before backing away with a laugh.

I’m good with him wasting time. Less fucking hits I have to take.

My thoughts drift for two damn seconds, and Tweek takes advantage, slamming his fists in a one-two followup to my goddamn kidneys. Acid flies up the back of my throat, and I have to fight to keep from spewing all over as I back away from his wicked fists.

“Retreating already?” Tweek taunts, his body springing around the ring.

“Fifty-nine seconds,” Wraith calls out.

Tweek’s face empties of his normal playfulness, his eyes darkening with the impending storm coming my way.

I only have time to prepare myself for the pain before his fists are raining down on me. He doesn’t back off after the first two hits like previously, and I barely get time to hit back.

The mixture of saliva and blood fill my mouth as his latest hit lands against my lips.

My knuckles meet his jaw, causing him to stumble, but then this motherfucker just tosses his head back and fucking howls before breaking out into laughter.

“Whoo boy. That felt good,” he shouts.

Tweek prances around me, his knuckles striking my body too fast for me to respond, but it’s the one that cracks against my chin that has me falling to the ground.

Fuck.

The world around me tilts and my vision blurs. Drops of bright red land against the ground between my palms.

I struggle to get to my feet, but it’s harder than I was prepared for. My energy is waning as the agony begins to take over the numbness I’d been holding on to since the start.

Thank fuck Thrasher’s timer goes off.

Blade rushes over to me, dropping to his knees and lifting my head from my chest so he can examine me.

There’s not much left to my vision as my eyes swell, but I’m still able to make out the grim expression on his face.

He cleans the blood away and swipes petroleum jelly around my wounds so it’s easier for the hits to glide off them instead of landing in the same place.

“We don’t want you dead, brother. Just want you to hurt. You take too many more hits to this pretty face and you won’t be going anywhere except in the ground.”

I let out a groan mixed with an agonized laugh. “Feel like I’m already there.”

“I bet,” he says, his tone full of amusement.

Once Blade is finished looking me over, Thrasher waits until I’m standing on my feet before going through the whole spiel again.

Crow stands in front of me, and the fucking blank look he always carries sends a shiver scurrying up my spine. As soon as Thrasher calls for the sentence to start, Crow wastes no time in his attack. His hits are vicious as they land against my body, and I’m left with no time to think or defend myself. His aim is maximum destruction in the two minutes he has to punish me.

By the time Thrasher calls an end to my time with Crow, I’m on the ground again, broken and bleeding. Hell, I’m surprised I’m fucking breathing.

Every breath I pull in is pure agony due to the fire inside my lungs.

My chin rests on my chest as I fight through the waves of nausea and fatigue that crash over me.

Crow grabs a handful of my hair and pulls my head back so I’m staring up at him through puffy eyes. “Love you, brother, but next time, use your head instead of your heart.”

“Would you? If it was Sage in danger?” I croak, the rawness in my throat sending flames licking up the back of it.

His violet eyes flash with something dangerous before he gently releases my head. “One more round.”

Crow reluctantly helps me to my feet and makes sure I’m steady before stepping away. “Retreat or continue?”

I smile at him, tasting the bitterness of the blood that coats my tongue. “Ready to finish out my sentence, VP.”

Pride shines in his eyes, and I’ll be damned if it doesn’t have me straightening my shoulders to stand taller. It’s not often you see something like that from Crow. He’s a stoic motherfucker and refuses to let anyone outside of his pretty Little Dove know how he’s feeling. She’s the only person other than Wraith’s son, Hendrick, that I’ve seen him go soft for. If only he’d get his head out of his ass and claim her already.

Wraith comes at me much like Crow did. Brutal and unrelenting, he uses his two minutes wisely. I’m wavering, my vision going in and out as he lands hit after hit to my body. He’s calm and collected as his blows thunder against me, the face of my President looking back at me instead of my longtime friend.

His knuckles land with cold precision, and I’m fighting with everything in me to stay present.

Finally, the timer on Thrasher’s phone rings out, calling an end to my sentence.

Wraith pulls his punch as soon as the tone peels through the air.

I stumble, my legs giving out and my body intent on shutting down. Just when I’m sure my face is going to land against the ground, my President catches me in his arms.

“I’ve got you, brother,” he murmurs. “I got you.”

Wraith turns us to face the bloodthirsty crowd.

“Can you hold your head up or do you need help?” he asks quietly.

“Help,” I choke out.

He slides his fingers into the hair at the back of my head and grips it tight. Despite the violence that just took place here, his touch is gentle when he lifts my head to face everyone.

“Steel, Road Captain of the Dirty Mavericks, you have completed your required sentencing. Live to ride another day, brother,” he intones loudly.

A round of cheers and fucking howls go up around us.

“Now, let’s finish this shit with a fucking party,” he yells.

Everyone starts walking away while Crow steps up to my other side, sliding his arm around my waist.

Together, with the rest of my club at our backs, they help me inside and up to my room.