Locke snapped his fingers, signaling for the final kill. Shane was of no use anymore.
Grim wouldn’t have to kill Shane anymore and place his head back on his body for us to torture again each night. This would be the last time that Shane’s head would be removed from his body, permanently.
Grim leaned back, his fingers digging into the fabric of Shane’s shirt. He pushed his claws into Shane’s chest, and with a sickening squelch, he pulled out his heart. The sound of beating reverberated through the silent basement. Grim lifted his foot and brought it down hard on the still-beating heart. The smell of blood filled the air, and the leather of Grim’s boots was slick with it.
If my bear was awake, he would roar with excitement for the kill. Another enemy caught, another destroyed.
My thumb ran over the brass claws, my heart filled with loneliness that I couldn’t celebrate this moment with him while the crowd cheered. No matter how full this room was, everyone in it would continue to feel lonely on the inside.
I swallowed, watching as Hawke walked down the stairs, just arriving in the basement. A smile on his face as he bypassed Grim, patting his shoulder and leaning over Switch.
Grim licked the blood off his claws, a smile on his face as well.
Hawke had his mate, and so did Grim.
I fucking wanted one too.
I growled, running my hand through my beard.
When was it my turn?
Grim’s machete cut through the air, chopping off Shane’s head. It toppled to the floor. Sounds of footsteps walked across the cement floor, the hose turning on to flood the blood down the drain, the wheelbarrow hinge squeaked to recover the body, and it rang in my sensitive ears.
I shook my head, scratching at it as if I had fleas. As the ringing died, murmurs of excitement and replays of the days of torture continued to fill the room.
All I could think of was—when could I get my chance?
I stepped forward, bending over and picking up Shane’s head by the scalp. I held it away from my body, keeping the blood from drenching any more of my clothes. Shane’s mouth and eyes were still open, bruises on his cheek and cuts on his forehead.
I straightened my shoulders and put on a face of pride to show Locke, my president, as I sauntered to the corner of the room where they finally broke the security code to the mansion across the country.
We were going to mount this whole ass head like a fucking deer mount, but I needed further orders on what to do with it. I needed to show that I was a capable brother and put my needs and wants behind me so I could show my president—acting alpha even if he could not hold that title without his wolf—that I cared about this club and the broken souls in it.
I still had my pride to maintain.
“Hey, Pres, where do you want me to put the head?” I gazed down at the head again and winced at the blood dripping out of the mouth. When I looked up again, Switch’s head moved away from the computer, and I got the perfect view of the screen.
It was a grainy black-and-white picture of a female huddled on a cot in a small cell with no windows and only a door. She was rocking herself back and forth with a mass of curly hair and a tiny body.
My heart stopped in my chest when I saw her. An overprotective instinct surged inside me. It wasn’t enough to wake the grizzly that slumbered, but my body instantly reacted, and my hand that gripped the decapitated head tightened.
“Who is she?” I whispered. I tried to remain calm.
I was anything but. This woman needed to be rescued, and that was the whole point of why the Iron Fang was founded. To save those in distress, to regain redemption for ourselves so we wouldn’t be completely damned.
We were gaining redemption, some of us getting second chances, but this woman sitting in a cell, alone, was doing something to me.
No one answered, and my heart pounded again. This time when the blood regained its movement, it boiled in my veins.
“Well?!” my voice thundered, filling the basement with my urgency. Even Locke took a step back when my eyes narrowed at every one of them. It wasn’t my intention to lose control. I know I could be a damn dick, but not to the leaders of the club.
“She’s our next target,” Locke said, fumbling with a new cigarette. “Gonna send a squad in to extract her.”
“I want in,” I said with no hesitation and dropped the head to the floor.
The head rolled away from me. I didn’t look back and stomped away from the group, feeling their heated stares on my back.
Chapter Three
