Her words were a punch to the stomach. Because I wanted so badly to be the man she believed me to be. I wanted to explain everything in great detail, to tell her why it all happened, how it all happened. But I knew there was never an excuse for what had been done to not just the sisters here, but too many more to count. Including the Hangmen themselves. I had let it all happen. I was the prophet, but allowed things to transpire in my name without my knowledge. I had been a fucking sorry excuse for a leader, burying my head in the sand when shit got hard.
I had left the rulings to a delusional wannabe-God. That fault lied with me. I was as guilty as all sin. Maybe not directly, but in my eyes, that only made it worse.
“Rider,” Harmony pushed me to answer, her hands clutched together in desperation, in a prayer position at her chest.
“I did it,” I blurted again, more forcefully this time. I heard the conviction loud and clear in my voice. There would be no mistaking my truth.
“No,” Harmony argued, shaking her head again. A sob left her throat and she stepped forward. Her hand landed on my chest, and I had to turn my head away when I saw the wedding band on her finger, the symbol of my vow to her, shining up at me in the harsh security lights. This was worse than anything Ky could do to me. That ring mocked me, taunted me with what I wished I could have gained—a love without shame or consequence. And a wife that I could love without guilt. “You did marry an evil man, Harmony—”
“Bella,” she interrupted, her voice raw. I closed my eyes for a brief second, unable to stand the growing hint of pain and betrayal in her tone. “My true name is Bella.”
My heart tore. “Bella,” I rasped. I opened my eyes. “You did marry the prophet, the true prophet. One that was just as guilty and fucked up as the alternative you feared most.”
“Rider—”
“Cain.” That name felt like vinegar on my tongue, but I forced myself to finish what I wanted to say. “I am Cain, no matter how much we’ve pretended I wasn’t. I’ve done fucked-up things, unforgiveable things . . . We have talked of Judah like he was the only guilty party in The Order. Like I am nothing like him . . . but I am. We are cut from the same cloth, made of the same blood and soul. The evil that lives within him crawls in me too. We just pretended otherwise.”
I stared into Harmony’s eyes. “You need to let me go, baby. You have your sisters back. You are free. I’m not the man you believed me to be. And I can certainly never be who you deserve.” My chest ached as I struck the final dagger into her balloon of hope. “You have never known the true me. I am evil disguised as good. I am not worthy of your affection. You have to let me go.”
Bella didn’t speak, just regarded me with a stranger’s eyes. Ky grabbed me by the neck and pushed me through the gates. Someone spat on my face as I passed, another brother stuck out his fist and punched me in my already bruised ribs.
But I kept my head high as I walked through the main body of the compound. I had been weak before, letting all of the pedophilic shit happen on my watch. This time, I would take whatever punishment the Hangmen dished out. I just needed them to listen and help me first.
After that help had been given, they could do whatever they wanted to me.
No matter how severe that punishment was.
There was no question that I deserved it. No punishment would ever be enough.
Chapter Twelve
Styx
I couldn’t fucking believe this cunt. Turning up at the compound, brazen as all hell. Dressed in white, trying to look like he ain’t done a damn thing wrong.
With Mae’s sister . . . her fucking doppelganger, her supposedly dead sister who Rider—Mae’s biggest fucking fan—looked like he was screwing.
Fuck. My. Life.
The brothers were all jacked up with rage, trailing after Ky as he dragged Prophet Fucknut across the yard and down to the barn through the woods. Perfect place to keep this fucker. Away from the clubhouse and nowhere near the cabins.
I kept my eye on Ky as he dragged Rider down toward the small wooden barn. I looked at Rider, and my lip curled in disgust. I fucking hated this cunt. My muscles practically throbbed in excitement at the thought of what he was gonna go through tonight at our hands.
Tonight my brothers would extract every bit of revenge they wanted from his flesh—slowly, painfully, drawing his death out as long as humanly possible.
Tank and Bull came to my side. Tank shook his head. “Mae’s fuckin’ sister, Prez? Ain’t she supposed to be dead?”
I nodded my head and signed, “As a fuckin’ doornail. It was the reason Mae ran from the pedo fuckers in the first place.”
“Then how the fuck did Rider find her? Out of all the bitches that woulda been creamin’ for him at that commune, he goes for the one that looks exactly like Mae—go figure.”
My teeth ran over my top lip in frustration. His obsession with my bitch had gone too fucking far. And one thing was for damn sure: he wouldn’t be going near her or Bella again. I ain’t ever seen Mae react like she did just now, seeing her dead sister rock up like a damn ghost at our gates. I knew she’d been close to her, but fuck! She could barely stay standing.
Guess I never understood just how close they really were.
“He dies tonight,” I signed. “This fucker’s delusional reign is gonna end tonight. I’m done havin’ him exist. So fuckin’ done.”
Ky opened the door to the barn and slammed the thick sole of his heavy boot against Rider’s back, catapulting him to the blood-stained floor.
By the look on Ky’s face, I wasn’t sure anyone else would get a shot at the rat. Lilah had been and had her surgery, and every day since, my VP had fallen deeper into fucking darkness. Seeing his bitch hurting, in a fucking hospital once more, had turned the laidback brother into a fucking demon. A damn demon hell-bent on nothing but revenge.
Kyler fucking Willis had enough pain inside him to make Rider’s death worthy of the fucking history books. Vike’s face was like stone as he held the door open for us to troop through. One thing I made sure happened in this damn club: any smartass and fucking stupid remarks stopped the minute business needed to get done.
It was why we were ruthless.
When it came down to it, we would cut any fucker down . . . then laugh about it later . . . over their carved-up dead bodies.