Chapter 1 Grim

" C hurch is in session," I growled, banging the skull-headed gavel on the wooden surface of the table. "Listen up."

Every member inside the chapel straightened in their seats, and more than one reaper pushed a little closer to the surface of the faces that watched with rapt attention. If I wasn't the grim fucking reaper and I didn't know the secrets we held, I might have been a little afraid of the ghostly, skeletal visages that stared my way.

But nothing much scared you when you already struck a bargain with the devil and wielded a scythe that reaped the darkest of souls. I wasn't afraid of death. I was death. The men in this room shared that morbid, powerful connection.

"Razr is out of prison," I announced, glancing at Mammoth, my V.P., who had yet to hear the news.

He arched a dark brow and sat back against his seat. "Fuck."

Yeah, fuck.

Until this moment, only Rael knew of Razr's release. I ordered him to keep it on lockdown since Mammoth married Rowen. Less than two fucking days for a honeymoon. I couldn't give him longer. I needed my V.P.

It wouldn't be the first time that the needs of the club trumped our personal relationships, and it wouldn't be the last. Every ol' lady understood the sacrifice she made when she supported her man. Did that mean we loved them any less? Fuck no. Every choice I made ensured the safety of our members and their families. Even if I had lacked in that department, our reapers would never have allowed it. They were obsessed, possessive, and overprotective when it came to our women. We often had to stifle the reapers' instincts because the demonic entities liked to fuck, fight, ride, and hunt. Rael's was the worst.

My Trish experienced the darkest aspects of MC life before we ever got serious. It almost broke us apart, but we fought every single fucking day to stay together.

"You should have told me sooner," Mammoth sighed.

"Not when you just got hitched, brother," Rael responded. "Pres wanted to wait. We fucking waited."

The left corner of Mammoth's lip lifted in a snarl. "Don't fucking piss me off, Rael."

Our S.A.A. and shit-starter shrugged. "Just sayin' the truth, old man. Besides, shouldn't you be happy after puttin' a ring on Rowen's finger?"

I shot Rael a look. He knew what the fuck he was doing. Crazy fucker got off on stirring the goddamn pot. He loved to fuck with Mammoth. "Knock it the fuck off, or you'll be cleaning the toilets after Mammoth shits."

Rael made a gagging sound. "I just threw up in my mouth a little."

"Grow the fuck up," Mammoth growled.

Christ.

Rael blew him a kiss.

"I swear to fuck," I began, "I am not in the mood for this shit."

"Just tryin' to keep things light, pres."

"Don't then," I hissed, turning to the rest of the members who had watched the exchange with humor.

We all knew how Rael acted when shit grew serious. He used humor to deflect because his reaper was an asshole. Also, because he cared as deeply about the club and its members as he did about his ol' lady Nylah and his twin sons, Gavin and Gage. He was my Sergeant at Arms because of his loyalty and dedication to the club. There was no obstacle that would prevent him from protecting our way of life, a brother, or an ol' lady.

Exorcist ticked his chin my way. "Tell us what you want, pres. No one wants to sit on this and allow Razr to make the first move."

"I vote we pay him a visit and end shit now," Wraith added.

My reaper agreed. "We hunt. Tonight."

"Vengeance," Hannibal shouted, pounding his fist on the table.

"Vengeance," I agreed. "For Keys and Lockjaw and all the brothers we've lost. For every fucking time we've had to lockdown this clubhouse and protect our families." A growl left my throat. "For the things we can't recover, and the time wasted, for the members no longer with us, and the cuts that hang as a reminder of our fallen brothers."

Thoughts of Trish and the baby we lost because of her stepbrother Moby and his vicious attack, the separation Razr caused, and the heartache—all the grief surfaced. I had to see him suffer.

My Reaper needed to reap his fucking soul.

Mammoth slammed his fist down, giving the room a wide grin. "Sharpen those scythes, brothers."

Rael tilted his head back and let his reaper howl. Actually, it was probably the berserker inside him. "I won't show mercy. The berserker won't allow it. Not with my Nylah and twins."

"I would expect nothing less."

"You're the Grim," he grunted. "The fucking Grim Reaper. We'll have our revenge, pres."

Yeah, we fucking would.

My gaze flicked around the room, taking in the framed leather vests that hung on the walls. A giant grim reaper, molded from steel, suspended on the farthest wall and loomed over us. In the middle of the table, a skull with a beard and crown had been etched into the surface, forever reminding us of our allegiance to the Royal Bastards MC. The patch that brought us all together and formed a sacred brotherhood.

"I can help."

I jolted, pushing back from the table as the men around me scattered. It wasn't fear that spurred on that reaction. We weren't afraid of what he could do because he fucked with us, but he didn't hurt us. The Reapers wouldn't allow it.

Of course, the asshole lounging in the center of the table in front of us could do whatever the fuck he wanted, and he often did. He just liked the element of surprise. The devil got off on that shit.

My gaze focused on him, watching as he sat there, right on our fucking emblem, and draped a hand over his knee.

Lucifer fucking Morningstar. I never trusted a word he spoke since the day I signed his contract in my blood. Lucifer always pushed his interests and agenda ahead of business. The only thing he liked more was his endless games.

I didn't have the time for his bullshit.

"You're interrupting church," I growled.

"Yes." He waved my words away like they were unimportant, and I felt my Reaper grow annoyed. "I came to offer my assistance."

Mammoth gave me a slight head shake. Rael grinned. It wasn't one of his teasing smiles. This was one of those dark grins that caused most people to cower in terror.

Sick. Twisted. Depraved. Downright sinful.

Lucifer lazily crooked a finger in Rael's direction. "Come play with me if you dare."

I didn't give Rael a chance to get worked up. "Enough. Why are you here?"

"As I said, to offer assistance." He swung his long legs over the table, slithering like a snake to the edge before hopping off.

I had to blink a few times to be sure I saw that right. His legs had become loose as spaghetti noodles and slightly wobbled, moving his body over the wooden surface with a tiny hiss.

As I stared, he stood, his body appearing normal—or as close as he would ever get to being human.

"Ah, yes. Down to business?" He glanced at Rael and winked. "Or not. Your choice."

"Business," I grunted, gesturing to a chair. "I assume you want us all present."

"I do."

No point in trying to end church until he vanished. He would leave when he was ready and not a fucking second before that.

"Why do we need your assistance?" I asked, taking my seat.

"I never said you needed it," he pointed out, lifting a bottle of whiskey from the table. He tilted the bottle toward his mouth and sucked the liquid from the amber glass. A forked tongue slid between his lips to lick the edge clean.

Fuck. I couldn't help the shiver that ghosted my spine.

A dark chuckle escaped as he sat back, snapping his fingers.

The bottle disappeared.

"Okay. Why are you offering?"

"Let's just say it's an attractive option."

For who? Him? I snorted. "I'm sure it is for you."

Rael snickered.

Mammoth shook his head. "You're toying with us. We all know it."

"Stop the games," I ordered. "Tell us what we need to know."

"It's no secret I have a vested interest in your success." He shrugged. "That was part of the agreement, Grim."

Yes. He never let us forget it. "And?"

"This is my effort to ensure things go smoothly."

Smoothly? Nothing ever went fucking smoothly with my club unless we let our Reapers free to harvest souls.

"You're telling us nothing," Wraith spat.

Exorcist cracked his neck. "I don't like where this is going."

I held up my hand to silence them. The added commentary would only piss off Lucifer. I really hated that he could manipulate us so effortlessly.

"Are you declining my assistance?"

Refusing his help? No. His interference? Hell yeah.

"It's hard to know how to reply when I don't have the knowledge to make a decision."

"Wise," Lucifer concluded. "You're the leader this club needed since Scar began this war. You have all the tools you require to end this feud."

Then why the fuck did he show up?

Frustrated expressions littered faces around the chapel.

Laughter spilled from Lucifer's mouth as he pushed to his feet. "Such a serious lot. Reapers never change."

Mammoth sneered in his direction. "We're exactly as you made us."

"True," Lucifer agreed, "at least partially. There's still that pesky bit about free choice and individual personality. Keeps things interesting."

I scrubbed a hand down my face and over my short beard. His visits were tedious and mentally exhausting. "And the point of this?"

"Whatever the fuck I want it to be," Lucifer hissed. A demonic, horned visage briefly flashed before his features returned to their handsome, flawless norm. The devil loved to appear in control, impeccably dressed, and always one step ahead of us.

His midnight tailored suit, bright white button-up shirt, and shiny black crocodile leather oxford shoes completed the look. He almost passed for a wealthy, self-absorbed businessman except for the sardonic grin and black nails that ended in sharp points. I had to give him credit for remaining as mysterious, unpredictable, and cocky as the day we first met.

The devil was a master, and we remained nothing more than pawns.

He reached out and gripped my shoulder, giving it a hard squeeze. "You never disappoint." His hand dropped. "When you need me, I'll be enjoying a walk in the desert."

Before I could reply, he fucking vanished. Just like I predicted.

"Motherfucker," Mammoth mumbled.

"That sick fuck enjoyed this," Rael added.

Lucifer's visit changed nothing. "Lucifer's games don't affect our choices. We have a murderer to bring to justice. Reaping his soul is all that matters."

Fists pounded the table in agreement as my brothers took to their seats.

My gaze flicked around the room, noting their determination. We would end this war and send Razr to hell, where he belonged—no more delays.

"Mammoth."

"Yeah, pres?"

"We still have that box of fireworks?"

A wicked smile curled the corners of his mouth upward. "We do."

"Rael?"

"Anything you want, pres, I can get it."

"Smoke bombs. A lot of them."

"No problem."

"Wraith?" I asked.

"Pres?"

"Feel like pulling a little disappearing act?"

Wraith could pass through walls. It was a handy trick.

"Sure. Always ready for a little ghostly action," he joked.

"Shadow?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell the shadows to be ready to play."

"It'll be a pleasure, pres."

Good. "I need everyone ready to leave at dusk."

Something in the room shifted. An unforeseen force that had seemed to bog us down now disappeared. Shoulders squared and backs straightened. Several nods followed my words. Tension fizzled. Eagerness sprang into the eyes of my brothers. This was a historic moment for the club.

"Church is dismissed," I announced, rising to my feet to slam the gavel down. "Tonight, we ride."