Both he and Gwen apologized, begged to be spared, all the usual things someone in their position knew would never work but tried to wager with anyway.

  It was too late for apologies. They’d created the grave I would lay them in.

  Looking past Butcher at Maliki, he gave me a slight nod, and I pushed Butcher’s body closer to Gwen’s.

  We’d figured out fairly early on these two had legitimate feelings for one another, so this was the least we could do. He brought his blade to the back of Gwen’s neck, shoving it straight through the center of her throat.

  Butcher yelled some obscenities, made a few useless threats, and stupidly allowed Gwen’s blood to find its way into his mouth.

  “You can’t use your legs, you’re tied to the ceiling, and you’re letting your girl’s blood run into your mouth. I don’t think I need to be worried about you coming after us, but keep hold of that hope. In the next ten minutes, it won’t matter.”

  “I say five,” Maliki corrected, reaching up to unhook Gwen.

  “It’s going to be ten.”

  “We’ll see.”

  He dragged her limp body across the floor, and then used his boot to roll it into the hole we dug.

  “You’re next,” I said to Butcher, stepping back when Maliki approached.

  With the same ease he’d used with Gwen, Maliki removed Butcher from the hook in the ceiling and proceeded to drag his naked body across the dirt. By the sounds he began making, I assumed this meant his dick still had feeling in it, even though his legs did not.

  Maliki rolled him in on top of Gwen, and then stepped back. The muscles in his back flexed with the small movement. When he turned, I could see the dribbles of sweat trailing down his abs.

  It was hot as hell in here even with the fans. We’d removed our tops hours ago, but I was beginning to wonder if we had time to remove anything else. I had no shame about being fucked beside an open grave.

  In fact, knowing our traitorous exes were just a few feet away made the idea even more enticing.

  He cleared his throat to get my attention, a knowing grin spreading across his face when I looked up.

  “I asked if you wanted to add the cement now or later, but I think I already know my answer.”

  I shrugged. “Making him wait isn’t going to kill him any faster.”

  “No, but it will get you fucked harder.”

  “Doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

  He pulled his delectable lower lip between his teeth and stalked towards me. I waited, keeping my gaze locked with his predatory one.

  In front of me, his hands reached out and grabbed hold of my ass, lifting me up so my legs wrapped around his waist.

  I pressed my mouth to his, lips parting to give him access. Our tongues tangled, teeth clashing as the urgency built.

  Carrying me to the workbench, he swiped his hand out and knocked all the tools to the floor, tossing me down on top of it.

  Flipped onto my stomach, shivering in anticipation, he dragged my jeans and panties down, spanking my ass right where he marked me the night before.

  My pussy clenched, a soft groan unfurling from my throat. His zipper went down and one hand wrapped around the back of my neck, pinning my face against the metal our bloodied tools had sat on seconds ago.

  His smooth head rubbed up and down my pussy before moving to my ass. Feeling his hand pumping it had another wave of arousal washing over me.

  Grabbing hold of my right globe, he spread it wide and lined his cock up with my sensitive hole.

  With no foreplay or whispered words, he flexed his hips forward, fully burying his cock inside my ass, making me scream and tears jump to my eyes.

  He withdrew and came back in, causing an intense burn, soothed when his bloodied fingers found their way to my clit. With us both still partially wearing our bottoms, my legs only had so much room to spread, making for a tighter fit.

  The bench wacked into the wall with his every thrust, his fingers found their way inside my greedy pussy, and he forced me to arch further so that he could claim my mouth.

  Every hole was full of him.

  I felt and tasted him everywhere.

  Hand snaking up into my hair, he grabbed a fistful.

  He proceeded to fuck my ass until my legs gave out, and my pussy clenched around his digits.

  He came all over my back with an animalistic growl when he was done, swirling some into my skin and bringing the rest to my mouth to suck off his fingers. Our taste combined was sweet and salty, something I would happily consume.

  Gentle as ever, he held me from behind for a few minutes, trailing kisses across my bare shoulder to my jaw line, laughing as softly as my body continued to shudder.

  We were sweaty, bloody, and all around filthy. These we were the good times we grabbed hold of in the midst of the bad. It would always be wrong to some people, but for us it felt incredibly right.

  We were both made up of jagged edges and empty spaces, tragically perfect for one another.

  I wasn’t entirely sure why Zane and I were required at this meeting, but Nyx wanted me here and so did her dad, so here I was.

  Zane and Addy were on my left. The asshole was being somewhat respectful and not feeling her up in front of her father.

  Luce, Ice, and Cam were there too. So was some small brunette I had never seen before. Demon was here too, sitting beside Addie’s sister, which was fitting since both of them were like a pair of fucking zombies these days. Neither would talk about what happened.

  Zane and I were giving Demon space, letting him work through it in his head and then come to us when he was ready.

  It was still hard seeing him like this. He was always a lively kid who carried a dark side like the rest of us. That liveliness was gone, leaving a darkness I was well acquainted with. Not to mention I had my own shit to work through still.

  I hadn’t dealt with losing Trix yet, or that Greer was missing along with Darrian. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to fucking process she was gone, that Greer could end up like Ace, or that Darrian was another Gwen. So for the time being, I ignored it, focused on other shit.

  Like the current discussion.

  Listening to the first generation speak, I began to get an inkling of where they were going with this.

  “There are too many variables we don’t know,” Cobra voiced, eyeing each of us.

  The man looked put together for someone who had to be going through hell inside. That may have had more to do with the Blue-haired woman holding his hand.

  “That’s an understatement,” Addy scoffed, earning a look from her mom.

  I smothered a laugh and tried to follow along when Romero started to speak.

  “Until we know exactly what is going on with this A.R.C faction and what part they play in all of this, what the status of the Stags are and what the fuck Sam thinks he’s doing, we’ve decided collectively it would be best for you all to get away from here for a bit.”

  His dark stare looked towards Zane and I. “All of you.”

  I didn’t give two fucks what he wanted. I would go with Nyx regardless.

  She shifted beside me, returning her mom’s small smile from across the room. Damn, the two of them could be twins.

  “And where exactly are we going?” Zane was the first to ask.

  Luce smiled first, matching the smile now on his father’s face. Cam smiled next, which was creepy as fuck because he’d been sitting here this entire time barely blinking.

  “Of course they knew about this already,” Nyx muttered.

  Addie’s mom was the one who announced it.

  “You’re going back to where it all began.”

  Lecherous. Diabolical. Savages

  RENEGADES

  Blurb

  Of the devil’s flesh and bone, the prince is ready to claim his throne.

  I want power.

  Cam wants penance.

  I've got a black cult backing my decisions.

  He's got demons hungry for carnage.

  Everything was going smoothly.

  Until her.

  She's the forbidden fruit we're supposed to beware of, but something carnal is growing between us.

  Now, with tensions mounting between various factions, a bloodbath looms on the horizon. Chaos and destruction start to erupt across the Badlands. Everything comes down to one thing.

  Survival of the worst.

  Forewarning, this isn't a cookie cutter romance. This isn't about love. This is a story of brutal possession in a world without morals. Enter at your own detriment. ;)

  DEDICATION

  To everyone that’s been here since Savages, thank you for loving the Badlands and all its sinners as much as I do.

  Playlist

  Three Days Grace—World So Cold

  DeathByRomy—No More

  Being As An Ocean—Alone

  Slaves—Heavier

  Came As Romans—Learning to Survive

  Carrie Underwood—Renegade Runaway

  Dream State—Hand In Hand

  Ryan Caraveo—Ghost

  Savage After Midnight—Heartless

  Fire From Gods—Right Now

  Breaking Benjamin—Dance With The Devil

  Ali Gatie—Moonlight

  I Prevail—Let Me Be Sad

  Fire From Gods—American Sun

  Badflower—Ghost

  Juice Wrld—Empty

  Gabrielle Aplin—Losing Me

  Billie Eillish—Everything I Wanted

  Ozzy Osbourne—Under The Graveyard

  Written By Wolves—To Tell You The Truth

  Palisades—Erase The Pain

  Kerli—Savages

  Family Tree

  Romero + Cali

  Adelaide

  Lucifuge

  Belladonna

  Grimm + Arlen

  Nyx

  Samael

  Blue + Cobra

  Braxton AKA Butcher

  Cameron

  Lilith

  EPIGRAPH

  ROMERO

  Poor preparation leads to poor results.

  I was exactly the kind of asshole to rub in the fact that I had been right all along. Which wasn’t anything new because I was always right. I didn’t achieve being the King of the Badlands based off how extremely good I looked. My mind had always been my sharpest weapon.

  Now that things were falling apart, those in my innermost circle were counting on me for a solution.

  But this wasn’t my battle or theirs. It was our children’s.

  We couldn’t hold their hands or solve all their problems for them. Our job was simply to make sure they not only survived this world but thrived in it. They were fortunate enough to have been given a solid foundation. Now was the time to begin constructing their empire upon it.

  Having a mass of acolytes at their back wasn’t enough. It was an undeniable asset, sure, an irrefutable extension of our family. However, quantity meant nothing if there wasn’t any unity. There had to be respect and trust, not needing constant reassurance that the person at your side would always look out for your best interests, even when that meant making the difficult decisions liable to piss you off.

  They needed to do what the original Savages had: move as one.

  To do that successfully, they needed someone who would put them on the right track and ensure they stayed the course. It couldn’t be me.

  My story was now revolving around them, and before things could spiral any further out of control, I was going to activate my trump card. I would bring in the one person I knew could do what needed to be done.

  I’d spent years cultivating, molding, and teaching him all he would need to know. His aggression and selfishness would be what pulled this band of degenerates together and prepared them to reign over a world that would never be kind to anything with a heartbeat.

  He was one of the few people I trusted to protect the legacy my queen and I had created.

  With recent tragedies turning out to be a blessing in disguise, he would no longer have to do it alone.

  Things couldn’t have worked out any better.

  Two cunning boys that had grown into savage young men.

  One was full of pain and rage.

  The other had an unquenchable thirst for power and blood.

  Both were of the devil’s flesh and bone, and it was time for them to step up and claim their rightful throne.

  They could, and they would, bring into existence the type of Savages the Badlands had never seen before.

  ONE

  Wickedness with beauty is the devil's hook baited.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The room was stuck in a state of suffocating apprehension, the ticking of the clock not unlike the timer of a bomb. Every swish of its tiny second hand brought the beasts in the corridor a little closer. There was no way to stop what was moments away from happening.

  Marcy pressed into my side, seeking comfort and protection. I understood her need to feel safe. We all craved security, even if it were just an illusion.

  Claire and Dasia had joined us on our corner bunk only minutes ago, and now we all squeezed together on the bottom mattress.

  “They’re going to take me,” Dasia whimpered, drawing further into herself.

  “They won’t,” Marcy reassured her. “You were chosen at last selection.”

  Keeping my doubts to myself, I purposely avoided Claire’s knowing gaze, flexing my muscles to rid them of their soreness. Had Dasia truly been selected for assimilation to the final phase of A.R.C, she would have received her branding within two days.

  We were now at the end of four, and no word had been sent.

  The remaining three girls assigned to our room huddled together in a similar fashion on another bunk.

  Two of them were marked, making them as safe as they could be in this hellish covenant. The third trembled with fear, having foresight of what would happen to her.

  As door after door was thrown open, the sound of steel slamming into stone echoed through the old asylum. Terrified screams followed each one swiftly. They got off on this, the guerillas of A.R.C. There wasn’t a need to go into every single room, yet they did it anyway for the simple fact that fear excited them.

  The idea of terrifying the girls made the monthly cleansings something they eagerly looked forward to. These men were cowards given too much power, lacking balls and spines.

  One last bang, and I knew our room was next.

  My hollow stomach twisted into a painful knot, beads of sweat gathering on my nape. I wasn’t afraid. I’d been in this life too long for that and seen this one too many times.

  I was angry, dreading the outcome for my friend. When the door of our room met with the wall, Dasia grabbed hold of my hand, her grip smashing my fingers together painfully. I gritted my teeth to keep quiet, swallowing down a whimpered protest.

  Four heavy-footed men entered, all donning the A.R.C’s navy hued uniform. Light from the hall dared to creep in behind them, illuminating General Hendrix’s thick head of silver hair. His stocky form seemed to fill the open space entirely. His hands on his hips and the slight twist of his lips was telling for how much he was enjoying himself.

  “Dasia Jane. Emily Jane. You have been named for cleansing,” his second in command announced loudly.

  A few tense seconds passed with no one speaking or moving. The world itself felt as if it had stopped turning and was now holding its breath. This was the part where both parties named were to stand and obediently go along with the night’s itinerary.

  However, unlike the younger girls or those newly acquired, the ones that still had pitiful naivety, each of us within these four walls knew that once Dasia and Emily left this room, we would never see them again.

  Dasia being selected had given me hope all would be well. We were going to assimilate.

  This evening was no longer supposed to be a possibility.

  Now, facing the inevitable, I found it impossible to idly sit by and watch one of my only friends being dragged away and punished for doing something as natural as aging.

  “You’re wrong,” I objected.

  “Star,” Claire hissed in warning.

  Forcibly untangling my fingers from Dasia’s, I gritted my teeth and scooted my aching body forward, ignoring both Claire and the sharp pain radiating up and down my back.

  Hendrix’s lips lifted in an amused grin, and he nudged the man beside him. “She must not have gotten enough last night.”

  I ignored that jab. I’d been subjected to crucifixion more times than I could count on both hands, no pun intended. I was above the taunts.

  His timeline was off, anyway.

  Technically, I had been delivered back to my room a mere six hours ago, directly after my wounds were tended. Not last night.

  Standing from the bed, I straightened my spine and stared into Hendrix’s brown, beady eyes. Flesh feeling as if it were going to split open more than it already had, I locked my legs to prevent myself from sinking back down.

  “Dasia was selected by Exarch Mosley, personally. Your chart is wrong.”

  Hendrix stepped forward, lining steel-toed boots with barren feet.

  “No, little girl. You’re the one who is wrong. Moss changed his mind and wisely chose Bridgette, the blonde with the peach-shaped ass. So, you’d best go on and step out of my way.”

  With a slight shake of my head, I refused.

  I was unable to willingly let her go no matter how stupidly futile this was. I was pushing it, practically begging to be severely punished once again for my insubordination.

  I didn’t care.

  “Star, it’s okay,” Dasia whispered, her voice breaking.

  Unable to affix the mask I wore so often to hide my emotions, Hendrix was able to see my small ember of hope fading right before his merciless eyes. I knew he took great pleasure in snuffing it out.

  “Take them,” he commanded, slamming a fist into my midsection. I doubled over, choking out a “No,” and clutching my stomach. Pushed aside with ease, I lifted my head just as one of the soldiers took hold of Dasia’s forearm and began to haul her towards the exit.