Page 821 of The Tempted
Pulling up my zipper, I stand on my feet. I slide back the curtains leading to the common room and make my way to the stash of coke on the bar. Pretty soon this powder will decorate Brooklyn and make me a shit ton of money.
But first I had to kill anyone with a reaper on their back.
I cut the coke and push it into a fine line. One rip and I’ll be good, then I’ll call church and we’ll finish the job these faceless pricks started, and when I’m done wiping out the Knights, I will hunt down whoever the fuck blew their shit up and make them my bitch too. Fucking amateurs.
“Shit! Incoming!” I hear my vice president shout as I snort the coke. The motherfucker is probably hallucinating again, goddamn junkie.
He grabs my cut and spins me around, throwing a rifle into my hand and to my surprise he looks straight. I fight for focus but I’m too distracted by the blaring engines approaching the clubhouse. I glance at the security footage and all I see are headlights, the whole fucking screen is lit up like the tree in Rockefeller Center.
I order my club to spring into action and collect their weapons but we’re not quick enough. The ginger that sucked me off shrieks in horror causing me to turn around and watch as the Molotov cocktail flies through the glass window and lands on her lap. The flames crawl up her skin and the message is clear.
Satan has arrived.
