Chapter Nineteen

Malice

She was mad again, and this time it wasn't my fault.

I don't know why that made me happy, but it did.

I was still fucking pissed at Sin for calling her, more so than sticking me in a room with a trained submissive.

I knew what he was trying to do. I wasn't stupid.

The situation was completely fucked up, and the one individual who would have comprehended and offered aid was now deceased. The absence of Father Dominic left me feeling uncertain and at a loss for what to do. There was no one else that knew the real me. The part of me I kept hidden. The part I never showed the world. Well, Sin knew, but he was being a cunt right now. I could talk to Torment, but that would mean reliving all that shit all over again.

Maybe Ivy could help? Our pasts mirrored each other.

Well, mostly.

Getting up from my chair, I stepped out of the clubhouse and immediately noticed the chirping of birds and the distant sound of laughter. While waiting for my sister to pick up the call, a black limousine effortlessly glided past the gates. Without hesitation, I swiftly ended the call and casually slipped my phone into my back pocket. Then I let out a piercing whistle to signal to my brothers that we had company.

I stood motionless, my eyes fixed on the black limo as it smoothly pulled to a stop.

The driver's side door opened, a large figure clad in a black suit stepped out, his silence adding an eerie aura to the moment. Moving unhurriedly, he circled the car before opening the back door. The sight that greeted me was the last thing I could have anticipated. Their smiles were both unexpected and sinister.

"Hello, Malice."

Growling, I reached for my gun.

"Oh, my fucking day just got a hell of a lot better," Montana sneered as he walked out of the clubhouse, gun pointed at the man. "Give me one fucking reason why I shouldn't put a fucking hole in your head right now, motherfucker?"

"Because I'm here to give you the information you will need to take down the fucking Golden Skulls. Plus, my driver has a camera pointed at you recording everything. If you so much as touch me, the person on the other end of the camera has been instructed to call the police."

"You think I give a fuck about that?"

"No," Benson smartly replied. "But you will care when the police arrest your wife for aiding and abetting a criminal and they put your son into the fucking system."

Montana chuckled. "Grew some fucking balls, did you?"

"Benson?"

All heads turned in unison while Tessa stood unmoving at the entrance.

"Hello, Tess," Benson Graves smiled. "How have you been?"

"Good," she muttered, cautiously looking at Montana.

"Babe, go back inside. Find Largo. Now."

Tessa didn't argue. She turned and left.

"That wasn't very nice, Montana. I was only catching up with her. I mean, I had a hand in raising her, with her momma being sick and all. Did she ever tell you I taught her to ride a bike?"

"Keep my wife's name out of your fucking mouth, asshole."

Benson Graves sighed. "Fine. I'm only here to help."

"And why should I trust anything you have to fucking say, Graves? You sold out my fucking club to work for Petrovitch."

The slimy fucker grinned. "Yes, I did, and it was a profitable union, too. But alas, my funds are running low, and I know you will pay handsomely for what I can give you."

"And if I fucking refuse?"

As Benson Graves stepped to the side, we all watched in anticipation as he extended his hand towards the person emerging from the limousine.

There, standing not ten feet from me, was Iris Hughes.

Arianwen's mother.

In the fucking flesh.

"Oh, I must have done something good in a previous life," Montana said before throwing his head back and laughing while brothers filed out of the clubhouse, all pointing guns at the visitors.

Payne and Torment moved and positioned themselves on either side of me, creating a protective barrier.

I knew why, and I didn't care.

This bitch was dead.

In my mind's eye, I could already visualize the exact moment when my bullet would enter her forehead, causing her brain to erupt in a grotesque display resembling primordial ooze. I planned on eviscerating her body until nothing was fucking left. Then I was going to flush her existence down the motherfucking toilet.

"Malice, take a breath, man," I barely heard Torment say. "You're scaring me."

Payne chuckled. "He's picturing her death. It's normal."

"It is not fucking normal," Torment seethed.

Iris Hughes flicked her long, dark hair off her shoulder, a mischievous smile played on her blood-red lips, adding to her evil allure as she adjusted her suit. With a gaze that made me feel like a prized piece of meat she was eager to sink her claws into, she provocatively blew me a kiss.

I growled, taking a step forward.

She fucking laughed.

"You don't talk much, do you?" the cunt taunted.

"Malice," Montana clipped. "Not a fucking word."

"It's nice to see that your father trained you well." She grinned, a sly expression crossing her face, before effortlessly transitioning into pure fucking evil. "Good doggie."

And that was all it took for Payne and Torment to grab me, because I was going to rip her fucking head off her shoulders with my bare hands and shit down her fucking windpipe.

Chaos ensued when my brothers all rushed to stop me from killing the bitch. Never in my entire life had I ever wanted to kill someone so badly. I could taste the hatred, the resounding need, the desire to end her life for the betterment of humanity.

Mainly I just wanted to watch the cunt bleed.

Blind fury distorted my vision. All I cared about was getting my hands on that bitch. She was a dead bitch walking and if it was the last thing I did on this earth, I would make that a reality.

"What the hell happened?"

"Silver's mom showed up, and the fucker lost it."

"That still doesn't explain this!"

"I don't know what to fucking tell you, Sinclair. She taunted him and he fucking lost it."

Rocking back and forth, I gripped my head tightly, trying to drown out his voice inside my head. Nothing I did would make him go away. He was in my head again, shouting at me, cursing me, taunting me like he always did. I could feel him slithering around in my body like some sick, demented parasite, waiting for just the right moment to attack when everything went dark.