Ruin & Rule (Pure Corruption MC #1)(78)
Author: Pepper Winters

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.”

Hopper moved forward, barking orders to loyal members while others watched the guys who preferred carnage and idiocy instead of evolution.

“Your ten seconds are up. What’s your decision?”

A prospect stepped to my side—no words, just a slight nod. Good enough for me.

The other prospect backed away, shaking his head. Fine, he didn’t count. He hadn’t sworn. He’d just go back to being unsanctioned and free to be picked up by any old fucking group.

The main man who tried to have me killed, glared. Slowly, he gritted his jaw and nodded. “Fine. I’m in. But I want a meeting. I want a democratic vote.”

I laughed. “There’s no such thing in our world. Don’t like it, you just lost your chance to leave, so you fucking deal. You hear me?”

The guy glowered. Shit, I didn’t have the strength to fight again. The earth beneath my feet had become unstable. My heart losing a steady rhythm. My veins were probably bone-dry after pumping that shit down my front.

“Fine.”

I held out my hand, shook his once, then spun toward the truck.

Striding forward, I ignored the idiots who’d fought against us, heading straight to the pile of girls cowering in the mud.

On a closer look, the closest woman wasn’t cowering at all. Her long red hair stuck to her neck, her face tilted, almost as if she could see the commotion and carnage through the blindfold. Her body was elegant with a full chest and long legs. Her parted lips full and pink.

Despite my injury, my cock twitched in interest.

I squatted in front of her, removing the blindfold.

Green eyes.

I almost fucking died on the spot.

Cleo!

No. It couldn’t be.

Everything I thought I knew ceased to exist. My world spun to a stop.

Her.

The woman who haunted my dreams and made me wish so much that life had turned out differently.

The girl who’d wormed her way into my adolescent heart and refused to be carved out, no matter how many women I fucked.

The dead girl.

The girl whose tombstone rested beside her parents’, hidden deep in my past.

The girl who I betrayed.

“You’re doing this, Arthur. Get in there. Now.” My father shoved the silenced pistol into my hand. For weeks he’d been forcing me to obey. Feeding me shit about how the Club would be better for it.

I’d ignored him. I’d fought against it.

But then he’d found my ultimate weakness.

Grabbing me around the neck, he hauled me close. “If you don’t do this tonight, I’m going over there and raping that fucking bitch then putting a bullet between her eyes. I’m done with you not obeying me.”

Rage crippled my heart. “Don’t you dare fucking touch her.”

His fingers tightened, hurting. “Do what I tell you and she lives. Her fate is in your hands, son. Choose wisely.”

His voice dropped to a hiss. “One last chance. Obey and I’ll let her live. Don’t… and I’ll make you watch while I steal that virginity you want so much and kill her.”

My fingers curled around the handle of the pistol. I loved Thorn and Petal Price. They’d accepted me into their family even though I wasn’t good enough for their daughter. They were good people. Decent people.

Unlike the family I came from.

The atmosphere in my home was full of greed and animosity, not love and companionship. Even my own brother hated me just because I’d earned the love of someone as precious as Cleo.

“Go, Killian. Get it done.”

My father shoved me out the door, where the night swallowed me up and the devil welcomed me into his clutches.

My fingers itched to pull out the Libra eraser from my pocket. The keepsake I never found the courage to chuck out. I carried it with me every day—stoking my vengeance.

That night was forever seared onto my brain. I never truly recalled the exact sequence of events. I’d disobeyed time and time again. I remembered beatings after beatings, and when threats stopped working, my father had resorted to more… drastic measures.

The nausea that always came whenever I thought about that night wrapped around my throat.

You can’t change the past.

But you can mold the future.

I leaned closer, wondering if life had finally come to torment me. To scramble my mind and show me just how much I’d lost when I gave in to my father.

Suspicion blazed up my spine and straight into my motherfucking heart. I hadn’t thought I had one anymore—but there it was, shaking off cobwebs and shadowy dust to beat hot and red and true.

But then I looked closer, searching for recognition of the love that once blazed on my girl’s face, and saw nothing.

She stared back with trepidation and a strange curiosity, but there was nothing linking us.

She looked like my Sagittarius, but it couldn’t be her.

She was a stranger.

She had no right to wear the face of my dead soul mate or look at me through the eyes of my lover.

My heart hardened like a fossilized beast.

Whoever she was, I hated her.

Hated her to the depths of hell.

I wanted her gone.

I wanted her dead.

Present

Cleo shifted beside me.

Sleep stuck to my thoughts, making everything sluggish. How long had I been unconscious? Dreaming of the past, the horrible shit I’d done, the mess my world had been ever since my father had beaten me stupid and dragged me into her house.

My mind locked tight, refusing to think about what happened—what I’d done.

Her body snuggled closer, tucking into mine like a mirroring piece to my soul. I nuzzled into her neck, breathing in her sleep-contented scent.

Will you ever be able to forgive me?

Will I ever live in a world where I’m not shattered by my love for you, because I know one day soon you won’t want it?

My questions were self-obsessed. Focused on the pain in my heart, regardless of the pain I’d caused in hers.

If she knew how grateful I was that her amnesia kept certain things from her, she’d hate me for eternity. I was petrified every time she said she remembered a sliver of her past.

She already does hate me—she just hasn’t remembered why yet.

I wanted to lay my heart at her feet and beg, fucking beg for forgiveness. But that would be asking too much. She’d never be able to grant me absolution and give me back the love I used to hold so fiercely when we were younger.