“All I can offer is this. Yield or suffer. There is no other way.”
Stalking to the boxing ring, I swung up through the ropes, pointing at the tattoo artist. “Today, you will swear allegiance to me; there won’t be a ceremony to welcome me into your Club because the Corrupts no longer exist.”
Men moved forward with outrage. “What?”
“Listen here, you little pissant.”
Grasshopper jumped into the ring, waving his hand at the uproar rippling around the room. He dropped his voice. “Uh, Kill? What you doing, dude?”
I’m doing what he told me.
“I’m dissolving the Corrupts. From now on we’re Pure Corruption.”
His blue eyes narrowed. “And he sanctioned this?”
I nodded. “He knows. It was his plan. He knew I wouldn’t be able to take over as Prez and keep the name. It just wasn’t going to work. So I’m starting my own crew with his men.” Glaring around the room, I preached, “You follow me, I promise you everything Wallstreet ever did. I’ll give you money. I’ll give you power. I’ll ensure you never go to jail to serve time on shithead crimes that we don’t need to do. Our law will be steadfast and you’ll be true brothers again.”
My voice lowered. “Don’t follow me and you’ll be out. Your tattoo will be burned off, and you’ll be gone for good.”
Shrugging out of my borrowed jacket, I tore my T-shirt over my head and straddled the tattooist’s chair.
The Corrupts were about to leave their dinosaur-bone-chewing carcasses behind and enter a new century.
This was no longer a crime syndicate where personal hygiene and house cleanliness didn’t matter. This would be a smooth operation. A business. A brotherhood.
Mine.
My weapon against the men who owed me their screams.
“You—you can’t—”
My eyes fell on a potbellied man with a thick black beard. “Let me ask you a question. When you joined the Corrupts, what drew you to it?”
The room went quiet as men recalled their pasts.
Fists were still clenched, anger ripe in the air, but slowly answers trickled to my ears.
“To obey our own rules rather than a corrupt government.”
I nodded. “Good reason.”
“I joined for the business side. Wallstreet made me a wealthy man.”
I thumped my naked chest, vowing, “Follow me, and I will again.”
“To ride and have a place to go with brothers.”
I searched for the man who spoke but couldn’t pick him from the twenty pairs of eyes watching me. “Would you rather those brothers had no guidance? Violence and jail time ruining your peace?”
A ripple of discontent went through the room.
“Accept me as your president, join me and become a Pure, and I swear on my life and Wallstreet’s, you will have peace, you will have your wealth, you will have your brotherhood.”
My voice lost its edge; I allowed a small trace of vulnerability to show. “I know I’m new, I’m young, and I’m likely to screw up as I rebuild Wallstreet’s empire, but I promise I will deliver. I understand what it’s like to be betrayed, and that will never happen if you follow me.”
Shit, I wasn’t there for blood and glory. I was there for revenge. And if they didn’t fucking like it, they knew how to leave and it wasn’t through the front door.
It was Mo who vouched for me. “We’ve talked about this at length, Corrupts. You saw what happened to Magnet when he didn’t want to be part of the evolution. Now’s your time to put your oath where your fucking mouth is and pledge.” He looked at me, his face hard. “As much as I don’t like taking orders from a newbie, he’s a good kid. He’s been spoken for. And… I think we should give him a go.”
The room went silent.
I looked over my shoulder at the tattoo artist. “Ready?”
The bald guy nodded, already knowing the logo, the motto, and everything he’d been told to do. He had a long night ahead of him. Amending each brother’s tattoo to reflect the new logo of Pure Corruption: an abacus with a skull and coins waterfalling from its mouth. And a Libra scale hidden in the design. For balance of right and wrong.
My heart skipped as her green eyes entered my mind.
And for her.
Admit it.
I wouldn’t.
My heart would never forget the girl who’d died way too young. Who left me for heaven and ruined my life more surely than any prison sentence.
“What’s our new motto?” A man with a greying ponytail asked.
A smile twisted my lips. “ ‘Pure in Thoughts and Vengeance. Corrupt in all Things that Matter.’ ”
It was as if the words resonated in their biker hearts. The anger switched to eagerness and fists unclenched.
My teeth gritted against the first bite of pain as the tattoo needle pierced my shoulder blades. I would be the first to don the new cut. As was my right as president.
My mind drifted as the hum of the needle melded with the rock ’n’ roll radio station someone turned on. Wallstreet’s planning from Florida State was impeccable, just like his bookkeeping—so far, the takeover was following the plan to perfection.
Not only had Wallstreet taught me how to control my anger, funnel my need for vengeance, and line my bank balance using the stock market, but he’d given me the numbers of safety deposit boxes and bank account details, and handed over his entire legacy.
All for one simple request: to ensure his MC returned to its former glory. And to put into action his largest plan of all: political domination. Wallstreet was no longer satisfied with controlling companies through stocks and bonds. He wanted the power to rewrite laws and create a world he believed would be better than the shit-filled one we currently inhabited.
He wanted it all.
He wanted to take on the government one decree and corrupt senator at a time.
And I was the linchpin to make it all happen.
I would make Pure Corruption shine brighter and stronger than ever before. And when they were ready, they would be my weapon.
I would become invincible.
I’d been ruined, but now I would rule.
Nine Days Ago
Fuck, I hurt.
Everywhere.
Goddamn idiots not accepting the change of ownership. I’d won. Four years ago, I’d proven my point, taken the Corrupts and turned them into Pure Corruption, and done everything Wallstreet ever wanted me to do.
I’d gained power. I’d brought the men back from the brink of ruin and created a smooth business once again.
I was rich. I was in charge. I was… if not happy, then content.
And the time had finally come to start the process I’d been waiting 86,750 hours for—ever since my past betrayed me.
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.