Ruin & Rule
The first year was rocky. Fights, retaliations, men testing my control. But in the end they’d come to the right conclusion—there was no point in arguing. It was done. Not just on home turf but in the other nine Chapters around the states.
I had the oaths to prove it.
I was the president now.
And nobody, fucking nobody, was allowed to say otherwise.
Which was what fucked me off about tonight.
I was the bastard to end all bastards. My word was law and I had a shitload of new ones to dish out.
“Kill—the shipment’s in full view. We need to get it locked down.” Hopper cocked his head.
My eyes shot up. The truck that’d arrived at the tail end of the fight rested like a fucking poster for crime beneath a streetlight of the industrial estate where our power wrestle went down.
“Why didn’t they park it at the back, for Christ’s sake?”
Hopper shrugged. “Because they’re a bunch of fucking monkeys. Told you we should never have let them do it.”
It went against every rule I’d set down when I’d taken over, but Wallstreet for some reason wanted this one shipment to be done. Five girls to be sold. Trafficking—dirty business and one I argued against until he’d let me choose the women who’d slept with the fucking devil—my father.
A wash of light-headedness crept over me. I stumbled, then blinked. Whoa, what the fuck? Looking down at my all-black attire, even the darkness of the night didn’t hide the seriously fucked-up situation I was in.
Ah, shit.
I hadn’t felt it. Hyped up on adrenaline and acting with complete recklessness, I hadn’t felt a blade slice my flesh. My jacket and T-shirt were drenched in black liquid. Not that it was really black.
It was red.
And warm.
And fucking sticky.
The very stuff keeping me alive, which should be in my veins, was pouring down the front of my goddamn chest.
Hopper’s eyes followed mine, narrowing in worry. “Shit, Kill. You’re not looking so hot.”
I growled under my breath, “Don’t let them hear you. I’ll get patched up when we’re back. Not before. No weaknesses. Remember?”
Hopper and Mo were the only ones I trusted. The only ones I would ever say that sort of shit to.
He nodded. “All right, let’s get those bitches out of sight, before the pigs get here. Then we’ll get you patched.”
Together, we crossed the concrete, which was now pockmarked with bullets and stained with blood. The bodies would be left. The cops would try to work out what went down, but I knew how to plant evidence. They wouldn’t go against the governor of the state, who was a personal friend and on my roll call of puppets.
No one argued with me. No one argued with a guy with a high IQ, a proven track record, and an extra arsenal.
In the four years I’d been in charge, I’d amassed more wealth than I would ever be able to spend, I’d donated to charities, funded schools, paid for politician voting campaigns—all in the name of building a rock-solid persona.
All in the name of buying unlimited power.
I wasn’t hated. I was loved. On both sides of the law. Two lives I could use, and friends in high places, who created the perfect alibi and protected my brothers.
Moving closer to the truck, I noticed the back door was open and three women lay bound in the mud. What the hell were these idiots doing?
“Get them up,” I ordered.
The two prospects and three full members who’d been on the scouting mission scowled. “Where’s Slice?”
I cocked my chin behind me. “Over there.”
Their eyes frowned, searching the darkness for the corpse of their ex upriser—the man who thought he could steal the Pures from under my nose. The fucking idiot who’d tried to lead a rebellion against me.
No matter what I gave them, some of the men still hadn’t learned. Stand against me and you would do only one thing.
Die.
“What, so you killed our nominee and now you think we’re gonna follow you?”
I nodded. “’Bout the gist of it.”
“You said if we ever had an issue with your leadership we could contest.”
“I said you could bring it up with me and I’d do my best to fix the issue—not to plot behind my back, asshole.”
The man charged forward. “We’ve followed you against our will for four years, Kill. When will you fucking learn we don’t want you? We want true Corrupt blood, not a fucking traitor.”
I stormed to meet him, fists to fists. Adrenaline was fast leaving my system, the wound making me woozy and nauseous. Someone needed to tell the world to pick a way up and stick to it. But I wouldn’t back down from a fight. Ever.
“You have one choice. You wear the cut. You follow the code. You’re in for life. You either accept the changes in management once and for all, or you fuck off and don’t come back. One-time offer.” I stood ready to beat him to a pulp.
The guy swallowed hard. “But if you cut us out we’re done. We swore an oath to Magnet. Not to you or Wallstreet. He’s our true leader.”
“He’s also dead.” I shrugged. “If you decide to leave, you’ll be a deserter. So you better choose wisely, or follow the same path Magnet did.”
My heart suddenly lurched painfully; agony from the bloody wound shot through my system. I shivered as a chill seeped into my bones. I needed to wrap this up fast, before I passed out like a bitch.
“Make up your mind. You got ten seconds.” Nodding at Grasshopper, I said, “Pick up the merchandise. Get them back in the truck. We’re not leaving them at this warehouse. Not now, with this mess.”