Chapter 2 Grim

" Y ou familiar with the Grim Reaper? What he does?"

Yep. "Like killing people with a scythe?"

He smirked. "You could say that. A true reaper harvests souls. He sends them to hell for eternity. It's the soul that matters." He knelt before me, careful not to get a speck of dust or sand on his suit.

"For you, I'll throw in a little something special. Auras are the true reflection of the soul. You want to know who's worthy of the Reaper's blade? The darkest souls. Those covered in ebony shadow."

The devil laughed and stood, snapping his fingers once more as a piece of parchment appeared out of thin air. An invisible pen began writing words in onyx ink quickly down the page, leaving two blank lines at the bottom. He lifted his other hand and bit off the edge of his finger as blood dripped from the digit, and he signed the bottom line in his dark crimson blood. The wound healed immediately.

"Your turn."

He thrust the contract close enough that I could read the contents from top to bottom. A twisted smile curved my lips. I was bound to the individual who signed this contract. Lucifer Morningstar.

Given carte blanche, my only requirement was reaping souls and handing them to the devil to fulfill the contract. No specific number was written down, but explicit instructions for recognizing souls that were to be reaped.

If I failed to take out those marked, I'd violate his contract. Punishment could mean revocation of my abilities and immediate death. If that happened, my soul was Lucifer's. Either way, he won.

Brilliant. There was no way to trick the devil. He was a master of deception and had already proved it. Lucifer was ensuring he received exactly what he wanted. If I didn't sign his contract, he would simply find another soul that would. It wasn't complicated to understand.

"My club?" I asked, taking an unsteady breath.

"You will take the position that Keys wanted. The president of the Royal Bastards MC. The devil's instrument."

At the devil's urging, I took on a new identity to cement my leadership and allegiance to my club.

It wasn't hard to come up with a road name that instantly evoked fear. A name that perfectly described my transformation. I wanted vengeance, the suffering of my enemies, and the calculating ability to rain down hell upon those who deserved it. A name that symbolized the cold, hard bastard I'd become.

Grim, the Reaper.

I blinked, jarring into awareness as I realized I must have dozed off. Strange. I didn't remember closing my eyes. The last thing I did was enter my office and sit behind my desk, planning how to take out Razr tonight.

My gaze locked on the window and the setting sun. Fucking Lucifer. Another round won in his sadistic games. He purposely put me to sleep so I would remember the contract I signed and his requirements. Not like I could ever forget. That moment was burned into my memory, scarring it forever.

Knowing my club waited, I pushed from the desk and strode toward the door. When I opened it, I found Mammoth waiting.

"We're all ready."

I gave him a crisp nod. "Good."

We left The Crossroads, and I approached my bike. The same bike that belonged to my father, Raptor. A beauty that still ran as perfectly as she did when he bought her.

A long row of rumbling engines formed behind me as I sank onto the saddle. Pulling on my gloves, I settled, focusing on the task ahead. Blood would spill tonight.

As if Lucifer couldn't resist, a blood moon hung low and full in the sky, casting a scarlet hue over the horizon. Around us, the desert stretched for endless miles. Predators slowly began their nightly hunt, unaware that the deadliest of all would soon rumble down Hwy 95.

My Reaper rose to the surface, and I welcomed his presence. When he joined me, I knew his protection would prevent any injury or harm. That was the bargain struck by Lucifer. I reaped. The Reaper protected. It wasn't his only duty, but he never failed. Invincibility lasted only as long as his presence. When he receded, it went with him.

But I could call upon my Reaper anytime I wanted.

He felt my restless energy. The rage that still lingered as a result of Keys' death and the other brothers we'd lost. The agony I kept behind locked doors because it was too painful to expose the loss I suffered with Trish.

He felt everything as keenly as I did.

I grew to love the vicious Reaper that intertwined with my soul. We were one thought and entity. There was a hunter's drive in his monstrous thirst for vengeance—a predator's stealth and sick enjoyment. I wanted my enemies to suffer and bleed, and so did my Reaper.

Which led us to this moment as a long line of bikes left The Crossroads. We narrowed down Razr's location and knew he had to be at one of three different compounds. It turned out we weren't wrong.

About half a mile from the Scorpions MC clubhouse, we stashed our bikes and made our way on foot. My guys spread out, surrounding the perimeter.

That was when I spotted Razr on his cell, arguing with someone. He sounded pissed.

Good. His day was about to get a hell of a lot worse.

Fucking Razr and his family had plagued me and my club for over twenty years. Razr's father Scar began this war when he took my old pres Keys and Lockjaw. They were tortured, beaten, and left to die. I couldn't save either of them. I'd been taken, too, but I managed to fight them off long enough to escape.

That was when Lucifer found me in the desert. One simple contract promising vengeance. I never hesitated to accept his offer or the presence of the Reaper. When I took my place as the new president for the Tonopah, NV, chapter of the Royal Bastards MC, I did it with one goal: to avenge my fallen brothers and the man I loved like a father. Keys' death set in motion a chain reaction of events that included murder, mayhem, blood oaths, and hatred. A war that would only end when the last of Scar's bloodline had perished.

Razr was a dead man. He wouldn't escape the Reaper.

The club had gotten a little justice with Scar and Acid's deaths, but after all the shit with Razr, it wouldn't be settled until he was in the ground. Or, preferably, suffering eternal torment in hell. I'd be fucking happy to send him to Lucifer.

I'd come close to taking out Razr on multiple occasions and lost a couple of good brothers along the way. Several cuts were framed and hung in the chapel. Keys, Lockjaw, and Vector all had a place of reverence on the wall. Each man was a casualty in the war with the Scorpions. Raptor's cut was up there, too. He didn't die because of Scar or his sons, but another rival had taken him out when I was young. Another casualty in the endless war we seemed to wage since the club's conception in Nevada—at least, our chapter.

We'd paved the way with blood, and it never fucking ended.

Those framed cuts were a reminder nothing was permanent. Even with our Reapers, we weren't invincible.

My old man Raptor died when I was only twelve. He'd been a big part of the Royal Bastards and the SAA. I swore that once I was old enough, I would join the club my father loved and died for. I'd carry on his legacy.

There wasn't any other choice for me. It was my destiny to wear the skull and crown of the club, proudly giving my loyalty to the brotherhood. I'd die for that patch.

And I didn't hesitate to get the retribution we needed.

We never had a reason to use those smoke bombs or fireworks. Wraith didn't have to enter the compound. Shit went down fast once we approached the gate.

I didn't waste time. "Razr."

His gaze narrowed. "What the fuck do you want?"

That was an odd reaction. "Your surrender."

He scoffed. "Get the fuck away before I rain down bullets on your idiotic skull."

My Reaper chuckled. I let him out to play.

"Wrong choice."

Razr's eyes widened. "What the fuck are you?"

"Judgment."

He took a few steps back, hollering for help.

Pathetic.

I hovered off the ground, gripping my scythe. Around me, I felt the presence of my brethren. We formed a circle of death that stretched around the outer gate. No one would escape.

For so long, I dreamed about dragging out Razr's suffering. I wanted him to feel pain for days, or even weeks, before he died, and his soul was sent to Lucifer.

Now, I just wanted it over.

Bloody Scorpions MC members rushed from their clubhouse with guns, thinking they could harm us.

Dark laughter echoed around me.

"It's time to harvest."

We left no one alive. Screams filtered into the hot night air, rising into a cloudless dark sky. Stars populated in a giant sea of onyx, twinkling above.

When I separated Razr's soul from his body, I held him in the air, watching him tremble with fear. "You will die. Payment for your sins."

"Please," he begged. "You have the wrong—"

I cut him off, ripping into his oily, inky soul. So foul. As evil as I knew it would be. Lucifer would enjoy him for all eternity.

His cries fell on deaf ears. With a sharp cut, I slashed through the last of his essence, grinning when I saw it sucked into the earth, sinking into the pits of hell.

There was a part of me that thought this was too fucking easy. He'd gone down way too fucking fast with hardly any resistance. Almost like he didn't know who we were or why the fuck we hunted him down. Fucking ridiculous.

I didn't care what his thought process had been. He couldn't be allowed to live after all he'd done. We got our retribution and vindicated the men we lost. It was a good fucking day.

When the sun rose in a few hours, it would be a fresh start.

And I couldn't fucking wait to begin this new chapter of my life with Trish, expand our family, and discuss the future of the Tonopah Royal Bastards MC with my brothers.