Home > Radge(5)

Radge(5)
Author: Esther E. Schmidt

“Dirty fucking rat!” I snarl with every inch of air left in my lungs.

“Meribeth,” my mother gasps in shock.

I whirl around and give her all my fury. “Oh, suck it, mother. You always turn a blind eye to everything around you. All you care about is how I dress, how I walk, how I talk. Well, guess what? I’m not the fucking lady you raised and I clearly don’t live up to the expectations my father had for me either. So, who fucking cares what comes out of my mouth or how I act?”

I storm into the direction of the garage but my mother blocks me. “Where do you think you’re going? You have to accept Leith’s offer to marry you. There’s too much at stake. You know what’s going on, your father explained it to you. This motorcycle club is too big for us to face alone.”

Turning, I head for the front door. Screw her, I’ll go around the house and get to my bike by taking another path.

“Sorry, Meribeth,” one of my father’s men says as he blocks the door. “You can’t leave, your father’s orders.”

Anger still flows hot through my veins and the guard isn’t expecting my outburst and it gives me an advantage when my fist hits his jaw, making him crumble to the ground the next moment.

“Meribeth,” my mother gasps once more but I ignore her and stomp outside.

The gravel underneath my high heels makes a quick exit hard and I should have gone to my room to change first but I’m already on a rampage now so there’s no time for a break. Though, I can hardly ride my bike in this fucking dress and heels.

Making a sharp turn, I head for the SUV parked near the gate, knowing where my father’s driver keeps the spare keys it’s a better getaway ride. I have no clue what my intentions are but I can’t sit in my room and do nothing.

Not while my father is set to marry me off to another family who caused my father to murder innocent people. Okay, the president of VII Knights MC, a ruthless motorcycle club, isn’t exactly innocent but he was murdered for something he didn’t do.

I reach the SUV but my mother grabs my shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing, young lady? You knew this day would come. We’ve talked about future expectations when it comes to the family business. This arranged marriage will happen.”

Whirling around to face her, I get ready to tell her I’m placing fate into my own hands, but I don’t get a chance to say anything. The air is ripped from our lungs when a loud explosion splices the air, stunning our senses. I’ve been in a few situations where bullets were flying around my head but what is happening now scares the shit out of me.

Mainly because I have no weapon in hand; something that rarely happens. And secondly; my mother is blown back onto the gravel and isn’t moving. Rushing toward her while staying low, I quickly grab her hand and try to drag her with me toward the SUV to take cover.

Orders are barked out behind me. Automatic weapons keep firing. I notice my father’s men rushing out of the house, returning fire, as I finally manage to pull my mother to safety. I don’t know why she’s still unconscious.

Cupping her head, I whisper, “Mom. Mom! Please wake up.”

Nothing happens and when I slide my hand away from the back of her head it’s painted with crimson. My heart squeezes painfully. She needs help right now; she must have hit her head pretty bad when she was thrown back by the explosion.

I glance in the direction of the gate where the explosion came from but blinding pain greets me as something slams into the back of my head. Darkness overtakes the worry and pain and I have no other choice than to disconnect with the world.

 

 

CHAPTER TWO


– RAMSEY –

 

“We’re fucking lucky they were practically thrown into our lap, brother,” Brodie says and smacks my back.

I mindlessly nod. There’s nothing in this fucked-up situation where I feel lucky or have it in me to so much as smile. Those mafia assholes murdered my father and a few of my club brothers for no good reason at all.

We were ambushed and betrayed by a business partner my father worked with for decades. The meeting yesterday was one like no other where McVay and his men brought us the shipment of weapons for transport.

Except, this time when they turned to hand over the shipment, a bullet suddenly hit my father between the eyes and their hands were filled with weapons, spitting bullets the next second without warning. Nothing about this was justified or so much as a hint of a reason why the fuck they were killing us on sight.

And talking about luck…we were damn lucky that night to lose only my father and four other brothers. Five of us lost forever while we were barely able to take out three of them. Well, four but the last one died after hours of torture so we could squeeze all the information out of the fucker before we send him straight to hell.

And the information he gave? Utter bullshit accusations. Lies about how my father raped a sixteen-year-old girl who was set to marry some fucker from another mafia family. Since the girl was under the protection of McVay, he was the one who needed to end the one responsible.

I still don’t get why the fucker didn’t reach out and demand answers, give us a chance to tell him someone is fucking framing us. But no. It appears decades of trust is blown to shit over one girl’s rambling lies.

My hand tightens around the glass and I bring it to my mouth, throwing the whiskey back in one go. Placing the glass back on the counter, I grab my knife and push away from the bar. The whiskey in my belly is enough to dull some of my senses, at least enough to torture a woman.

Normally I just stick to men and use other ways to punish women if need be but in this case? Involving the straight up murder of my father? I need to feel innocent blood stick to my fingers to soothe the monster called revenge.

From the corner of my eye, I see Glenn strolling down the hall. Without thinking I pull my hand back and let the knife slice through the air until it lodges itself into the wood of the door Glen was about to pass. The fucker gulps and freezes in place, the knife a few inches from his face.

He doesn’t say one damn word and neither does Brodie who is flanking me. The fucker should be thankful he isn’t in the ground. The information we pulled from the mafia guy we tortured was something Glenn knew too.

He heard about the girl being raped because his mother is friends with the chick’s mother. And how one of our own brothers doesn’t share such a detail to his club brothers is beyond me. Even if we didn’t know she pointed out my father as the guilty one.

If my father knew the girl was raped, he would have reached out to McVay. He would have offered his help because we know the girl is a daughter of one of his capos. And that right there? That might have prevented the killings.

Or at least made a fucking difference but I guess now we’ll never know. And it’s this fucker’s fault. I should have taken his fucking cut in church earlier today but it was a club decision to keep him around since we lost enough brothers.

“Get the fuck out of my sight,” I snarl when I get close enough to rip the knife out of the wood.

Yes, I’m overreacting but I don’t have anyone else around me to put the blame on and unleash my fury so he has to take my frustrations and anger. It will teach him to share shit even if he thinks it’s unimportant. The club fucking decides what’s important or not.

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