There will be blood.

  Buckets of it.

  Ripping a chunk of bread from the corner of my sandwich with my teeth, I lean back in the chair, my legs spread wide. “We ride at dusk.”

  “Shit yeah, we do.” Eyes wild, Kade twirls his blade with far too much delight. “Dead fucks at dusk,” he sings loud and proud.

  Blimp snorts. “Dead fucks at dusk.”

  On a yawn, White Boy parrots their sentiment.

  You heard ‘em… Dead fucks at dusk.

  Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna puke in the comfort of our grimy shithole bathroom.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  GUNZ

  Brick and steel stretch as far as the eyes can see. It all rests in the middle of a well-lit, black-topped lot, surrounded by dense tree cover on all sides. A single road leads in and out, a lane in each direction. Trucks, vans, and buses are parked everywhere—new, old, creepy white pedo types, expensive sleek beauties, and everything in between. This is the place. Their East Coast headquarters. We’ve hit the motherload. Big had better hope he sent enough reinforcements because we’re not going in tactile and quiet like we usually do. This is brute force infiltration. There are far too many of us to stay under the radar.

  Blimp parks our bulletproof SUV next to another one similar in size and style. A line of us roll in single file, each riding in our version of an armored truck. Hell, some of us are in actual armored trucks. Nobody’s fuckin’ around. We’ve got a med van standing by a few miles out as my brother, Bonez, has a fleet of vans waiting for whomever we free. This is the biggest operation I’ve been a part of… ever.

  An incoming text vibrates on my lap.

  Prez: Be smart. Stay safe. Bring them home.

  Popping a Dum Dum into my maw, I snicker around the stick, shaking my head in amusement. “Prez says for us to be smart and stay safe,” I announce to the brothers riding with me.

  Blimp chuckles, stroking his beard, on board with Big’s sentiment.

  “Says the giant fucker who stayed home,” Kade singsongs from his bucket seat in the back as he double-checks his arsenal of pointy weapons.

  “Yeah… annnd Bear or Ghost aren’t here either,” I tease. Big might be our national prez, but Bear and Ghost, Kade’s chapter prez and VP, are also sitting this one out. I’d say it was their advanced age, but who the fuck am I to talk. I’m closing in on sixty, year after year. So is Blimp. Maybe they’re the smart ones. ’Cause any brother riding with us today is out for blood. Trust me, nobody becomes a Sacred Sinner because they’re normal. We don’t do normal.

  Deciding not to reply to Prez, not that he expects me to, I wait for the rest of our brigade to surround the warehouse on all sides—sixteen armed to the nine’s vehicles and their inhabitants. Lace, a clinically insane brother from Texas, waves at us, having the time of his life, hanging halfway out of a rolled-down window as they pass.

  “He’s gonna have funnn.” Kade two-finger salutes in return to his fellow chapter brother.

  I smirk over my shoulder. “So are you.”

  White Boy clucks his tongue. “It’s quiet. Too quiet,” he observes from the rear bench seat.

  “That’s how all the places have been. The calm before the storm.”

  “Nobody’s mannin’ the guard shack. Nobody’s out on patrol,” he whispers more to himself than us.

  “We expected this. Remember? All these vans and trucks aren’t parked like this just ’cause it tickled their fuckin’ fancy.” It’s strategic. Some of ‘em are likely loaded down with explosives. Some might even have men inside, ready to engage when given word. With Remy’s reach and how important this location is to his operations, I’m sure one of his minions caught wind of our not-so-subtle plans. The hotel and other raids haven’t gone unnoticed. He knows what we’re hunting. If he’s smart, he’s kept our women alive as a bargaining chip. Only time will tell.

  Once our final pickup has taken its spot, all headlights shine like hot bacon grease on the side of the warehouse—the taunt of a biker. The promise of death. A welcome to Hell—Sacred Sinner style.

  Setting wheels in motion, Blimp flashes our headlights twice, and everyone in our SUV places a tiny earpiece where it belongs. To make sure they function as needed, I test mine. “Coal, can you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear, Gunz,” he replies from somewhere in the parking lot. Coal and his crew rode in all the way from the West Coast for this.

  One thing down, about a dozen more to go. Closing my eyes, I inhale the deepest, calming breath. This is what we’ve been waitin’ for. We’re here to save my woman, my family, and my friends. Today, we will reunite together. Death is part of life. The lives I may take are necessary. On a long exhale, a bone-deep Zen I’ve been missing for weeks enters me. For the first time in forever, I feel more like myself—ready, steady, and in goddamn control.

  Palms flat on my knees, I reopen my eyes and look at Blimp. “It’s time.”

  He nods.

  One by one, I unleash war on the scum we’ve come to terminate. Brothers exit their vehicles in time with my instructions. Many scout the surrounding buses and vans while others set up shop in their posts, protected by tree cover. Gunfire bellows into the night sky as we quickly locate and eliminate our enemies from their hiding spots. No mercy is given, nor is it sought.

  In teams of three, our Corrupt Chaos brethren break through every exterior door to gain us safe passage inside.

  “Is it time yet?” Kade vibrates in excitement.

  “Almost. We’re the second wave.”

  This afternoon, I spent hours on FaceTime with Sniper, the Corrupt Chaos president I’ve mentioned to you before, to flesh out their involvement in today’s war. I couldn’t have done this without him, or any of the key players in today’s raid.

  “We’re in,” Smoke’s thick, Scottish brogue confirms. “Lots’a bloody fuckin’ bodies.”

  Out of my peripheral, I watch Kade ready his door handle. “Now?”

  I turn to Blimp, then all the way around to see my brothers in the back. “Stay whole. Follow orders and stay in the truck, Blimp.” I clap his shoulder.

  Knowing his role as getaway if needed, Blimp dips his chin in understanding as the rest of us pull our weapons to fight. In front of us, lit by headlights, is an open doorway, ready to enter, flanked on either side by our armed Corrupt Chaos brothers. This section of warehouse is our closest guess to where they’d hold the captives. Whether or not our calculations are right makes little fuckin’ difference. The three of us are on a mission.

  Calling out my final round of orders through the comms, I smile wickedly over my shoulder to Kade.

  The hunt is on.

  Stepping into the unknown, the echo of gunfire greets us. High-octane adrenaline dumps into my system. Sweat beads on my brow. My muscles prime for a fight. Ready for anything. Kade and White Boy protect my six as I lead us into the bowels of our enemy’s camp. Lights flicker overhead as gray hallways lead us down more dingy gray hallways. Room by room, we search, uncovering little more than stolen car parts and electronics.

  “Need Doc. We’ve been hit,” comes through the comm as we progress, focused on our task. I clear a room, Kade clears the next, then White Boy. Like a well-oiled machine, we remain alert.

  At another bend in the hall, Kade presses his spine against the corner. A demonic smile parts his goatee, and he tucks two blades to his chest as a round of voices carry. I ready my gun. Our gazes catch in a don’t-get-dead comradery. We chin lift as one. It’s showtime.

  “Come out, come out, you dead motherfuckers,” he taunts.

  Four young douchebags dressed in black jog around the corner. Bypassing Kade altogether, they come guns blazing, straight for me, and I’m ready. Dropping low, I avoid the spray of bullets as they chip away at cinderblock walls, clouding the air in chalky smoke.

  In a masterful ballet of blades, my Texas brother engages, slicing and dicing in a blur. Crimson coats him, the concrete floor, and walls as I masterfully unload into our enemies. One thigh, two thighs, three thighs, four. Five thighs, six thighs… ooops, they’re dead on the floor.

  Not quite done, Kade plants his feet on either side of a corpse, slices open the man’s cotton shirt, and removes his innards with far more precision than I care to witness. Heavy wetness slaps the ground as Kade performs whatever surgery his dark soul hungers for. It’s not my place to judge. Not today. The guy’s already rotting in Hell. Let bygones be bygones.

  On a groan, I stand to my full height and dust off my knees.

  “Mother wouldn’t like this,” Kade hisses to himself as I take his spot at the corner, to make sure we don’t encounter any unwelcomed guests.

  In a nearby room, White Boy whistles to get our attention. “You good?”

  To be sure, I peer down the hall. It’s clear. “Yeah.”

  “Well… I think I found something.”

  Leaving Kade to his devices, I join White Boy in a room close to our collection of corpses and…

  What the actual fuck?

  Hospital beds full of women line both sides of a long, dimly lit room. Down the center, there’s a narrow path wide enough to roll a gurney through. Machines beep and chime their greeting as I pause long enough to soak in the scene. Over my shoulder, Kade observes the same and wipes his blades clean on the backside of his jeans.

  Nose scrunching in revulsion, I shake my head. “What the hell is this place?” The angry vein in my forehead throbs.

  On the other side of the space, White Boy aims his gun at two females lying face down on the floor, fingers threaded behind their heads. “Ask them.” He gestures to the bodies with his weapon.

  So, I do. Without moving. Because I don’t wanna see this shit. I don’t wanna be near it. I don’t wanna think about it.

  “Explain. Now,” I growl.

  This had better be good.

  “It’s our job,” one croaks.

  Right. Their job.

  I scoff.

  “To do what?” I know what, but I’m askin’ anyhow. Consider me interested, ’cause we haven’t come across this style of sick fuckery yet. Not from Remy, anyhow.

  “Keep them alive,” the other explains, less emotional than her counterpart. If I had to guess, she’s the leader here. Her voice is far too steady to be anything else.

  “They’re pregnant,” I observe aloud for no reason other than to cement this is real life in real time.

  Fuck.

  Positioned on their side, each victim is exposed from the waist up. Each wears a cannula for oxygen, an array of wires, and IVs. I can see their tits, their distended bellies, the stretch marks, the bluish tint to their skin. Nothing more than a thin, white sheet covers their bottom half in a room chilly enough to raise goosebumps to flesh.

  “Yes,” the composed one confirms.

  “They’re sedated.” A statement, not a question. Bags filled with piss hang down the side of their beds as their eyes remain eerily shut. It doesn’t take a genius to see what’s going down here.

  “Yes,” the same woman confirms with cold detachment.

  Unable to stop the questions from forming, I ask what I need to know… things that mean fuckall right now. ’Cause what is, is. Still, my brain needs to digest the ugly facts. “How long do you keep ‘em like this?” I watch the rise and fall of chests as their bellies move with life.

  “We get them close to delivery.”

  Christ.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose and breathe before the Zen I’ve acquired goes poof.

  “And then what?” I force through gritted teeth, jaw aching.

  “He doesn’t like used goods.” More of that matter-of-fact monotone crap from the short-haired brunette.

  Behind me, Kade curses and takes a walk to get some space. Can’t say I blame the man.

  The squelching of entrails resumes noisier than before from the hallway.

  “You’re gonna have to elaborate.” I gesture for the woman to keep talkin’, even though she can’t see me.

  “We perform c-sections, and he sells them.”

  Sells. Yeah, you heard her as clear as day. He sells babies.

  Babies like Dom.

  Babies like Leech.

  I stow my gun and shove both hands into my front pockets before I punch something. “What about the mothers?” emanates more as a growl, than words.

  “They are—” The redhead hiccups on a sob, her body shaking with emotion.

  “They’re, what? Say it!”

  “W-we cre-cremate them,” she finishes.

  “It’s quick. They don’t feel any pain,” the cold-hearted bitch tacks on as if that justifies anything.

  I should throw her in with them, still conscious and breathing, as flames scorch her flesh and heat turns her insides to dust.

  “And that’s okay?” I seethe.

  “We don’t have a choice,” the bitch defends.

  Lies.

  “Everyone has a choice.”

  “Are you gonna kill us?” comes from the one with a soul.

  My head shakes, even though they still can’t see me from their spot on the floor. “Not today. Not until my brother decides what to do with these women, then what to do with you.” Once he speaks to the brunette, he’ll come to the same conclusion I have. Death. If I’m lucky, I’ll be there to watch. Male or female, evil is evil. Not caring that you take part in murdering new mothers… Well, that’s evil as fuck, don’t ya think? Only Bonez will be nice about it. Quick. Painless. Bleh. Boring. She deserves a nice long visit with Kade.

  Knowing it’s the right thing to do, I text my brother. He needs to know what kinda shitstorm they’re walking into.

  For an accurate figure, I tick off each woman bed by bed.

  Twenty-two.

  One less than the number of hours I spent with Kit the first time we met.

  The night we conceived Adam.

  Balling one hand into a fist, my head hanging low, I sigh.

  I miss her.

  I miss… fuck… no…nope… I don’t have time for this. We’ve got a job to do. One thing at a time.

  To ground myself, I yank a Dum Dum from my cut and devour the sweetness as I text Bonez.

  Heads up. We have twenty-two sedated pregnant women.

  Just as I hit send, Runner’s voice cuts through the coms. “We found ‘em.” My phone pings with a location not far from us.

  “On our way.”

  I’m comin’, love.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  KIT

  Gunfire. Yelling.

  A cacophony of ugly and violence. For a moment, I wish they’d stop, so I can think. So my ears could stop ringing.

  Exhaustion erodes a trail straight down to my marrow. I sag into a stiff chair. Too heavy to hold it up, my chin bounces off my chest as I drift in and out of consciousness.

  Frigid air bites my bare flesh. Gooseflesh pebbles.

  I’m tied up.

  No. We’re tied up.

  My sisters.

  My friends.

  Exposed.

  In pain.

  Blinded by whatever they’ve knotted around our heads.

  The awful cotton in my mouth makes it impossible to swallow. Dry. It’s so dry.

  I try to move to get comfortable. It’s futile. Abrasive rope holds me hostage—my tether to this horrible place, wearing divots into my ankles and wrists.

  I hate this.

  For me.

  For us.

  Again, I try to swallow.

  Ugh.

  I want to scream.

  I want this to be over.

  No more.

  Please.

  No more.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  GUNZ

  The heels of my shitkickers scrape across concrete as I pass brother after brother in the hall. Our chins lift in mutual respect as I’m guided from one corridor to the next, through a double doorway, and into a large office where a group of us have taken up arms, ready to kill whatever motherfucker gets in our way.

  Next to a whiteboard, I leave Kade with Lace as I scope out the space alone, to get a clearer vision of what’s about to go down.

  Tables are pushed to the far walls. In the center of the room, each woman is naked and bound, seated in a row of chairs. A couple of feet separates one from the other. That seems to be the going trend around these parts—incapacitate. Above each of them, a single bulb sways to-and-fro in a morbid display of debauchery. Leaving little to the imagination, their vaginas are visible, bare tits splattered in what I assume is dried cum. Thanks to the fabric tied around their heads, they can’t see a thing. Nor would I want them to. Not since Remy’s crew has sheared their hair clean off, leaving them bald... as bald as me.

  A growl rumbles viciously in my chest as my molars grind. Nostrils flaring, I do my best to keep my anger in check. Foolish action breeds deadly consequences. It could get them killed. It could get her killed. My Kit. The furthest from me. On the end. Chin resting on her chest in defeat, purple hair gone, skin pale.

  I’m here, love.

  I’m here for you.

  In hopes she’ll sense my presence, I channel the unspoken words in her direction.

  Not much longer, sweetheart.

  She doesn’t move.

  If it wasn’t for the shallow rise and fall of her chest, I’d think she was dead.

  I continue my perusal of the space. Calm, as if I’m bored. As if there isn’t a line of brothers impatiently waiting for their moment to unleash. Many already coated in blood from battle. They bounce on the balls of their feet, necks cracking, as if they’ve taken a fresh snort of coke, and the world of death is now their oyster.

  Fifteen, possibly twenty, men wait in the darkened recesses of the room, a mirror of our own. They’ve planned this well. If I wasn’t here to destroy them, it might impress me. Only I’m not. Because you don’t do this to innocent women. Women who’ve done nothing more than be a part of our world, nothing more, nothing less.