American Street Kings: The Complete Series

by Bella J

  Her sobs cracked, hiccupped as she cried. “Onyx—”

  “I’m in love with you, Wraith. And I think I’ve been in love with you since you sat down at my goddamn table, pretending to be my date.”

  She let out a half-hearted laugh, a beautiful sound that fused with her sorrow.

  “I don’t care who you are, whose blood runs through your veins, I will take care of you. No one will ever touch you again but me.”

  I sucked in a breath when I felt her wrap her arms around my neck, pulling me closer, crying as she buried her face into my neck. “I didn’t think I’d ever be able to love someone,” she whispered between tears. “But now, because of you, I know I can.”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Neon standing by the door about to walk out. There was a gentle smile on her face, and I knew she pushed Wraith to tell the truth so I could realize exactly how much this fucking woman meant to me. No lies, no amount of betrayal, no crew, no rules, and no motherfucking president tag would ever change that.

  “Wraith,” I took her chin in my fingers, gently lifting her face to mine, “I want you to stay with me. I want you to be with me, be my woman.”

  She nodded, face wet with lingering tears.

  “But you need to know, I’m going to search for him. I’m going to turn this motherfucking city upside down, and I will find him. And when I do,” I tightened my grip on her chin a little, gritting my teeth, “I’m going to kill him. You understand that? I am going to kill…your brother.”

  For the longest time, she just stared back at me, not saying a single word. Her striking blue eyes were faded, tired, red from purging herself of so much pain and sorrow. Yet as she placed a palm against my cheek, some of the blue hues in her irises illuminated. “I know you need to do what needs to be done.”

  I was probably being a beast for smiling at her words, but I couldn’t help it. Her words showed her strength, proved there was still iron left in her will to live, in her drive to take back what had been taken from her.

  I was no idiot. I knew this was only the beginning of our road to happiness, and that we probably had to get to know one another again since all of this started with a lie. But what I did know was I was never letting her go, no matter what. I finally understood how and why Granite made the decisions he did once Alyx came into his life. Love changed a man. It made you realize what was important, what really fucking mattered.

  Family and love mattered, nothing else.

  I was the president of the American Street Kings, and I would do whatever I had to in order to protect my brothers, our women, our family.

  And no one would be able to stop me.

  Epilogue

  Ink

  It smelled like dead rodent in here, and I could practically feel the filth cling to my skin. It was warm, humid, the summer heat surrounding us like a motherfucking bitch, and the lack of ventilation made it a thousand times worse.

  I walked across the concrete floor, my heavy footsteps echoing with menace. The way my heart raced, adrenaline and excitement brewing in my gut, I could feel my blood sing with vengeance.

  The constant drip of water was annoying as fuck. Drip, drip, drip. I imagined the water dripping in a pool of blood, the crimson spreading through the ripples. Blood, it was all I thought about.

  Blood. Death. Pain. So much fucking pain.

  The day we found Neon’s mutilated body on the pavement, dropped there like she was nothing but a sack of garbage, something inside me died. I flipped a motherfucking switch, and now the hate was controlling me. I couldn’t even sleep without dreaming about her, about him, how he hurt her, tortured her, leaving nothing beautiful untouched. Every thought I’d had since that day was soaked in hate and rage, my need for revenge making it worse as seconds, minutes, days, weeks passed by without coming close to sating the bloodlust.

  Neon had grown stronger, physically. But everyone knew her mind was still stuck in that room—the room where they destroyed her. She was no longer the carefree woman who walked around infecting everyone with her laughter, causing everyone to love her without even trying. Her light was everywhere, and I had been drawn to it since the first day I met her. There was this part of me that always wanted to be close to her, but I stopped myself from getting too close. I was too afraid my darkness would taint her light. I didn’t want to ruin the good in her, and acting like an asshole was the only way to keep the walls up around my heart. I knew I could never make her mine. She was too good for a manwhore like me. Her soul was too beautiful for the ugliness I carried in me. But there were days I found it half impossible not to act on my feelings for her, days when I made snarky remarks, remarks everyone laughed about. Remarks everyone thought were mere jokes, little acts of assholery. Eventually, it became our thing, the bickering, the banter. God, I lived for the fucking banter between us. It was my way of allowing myself a sliver of her light—a second in time when I pretended I was worthy of her.

  The day Slither took her from us—from me—my ugliness turned into something menacing and grotesque. Yet the walls around my heart came tumbling down, falling into a heap of dust. Now, I was determined to make her mine. It was crazy, insane, stupid, but during those hours when I believed I had lost her, all I thought about was how I wished I had acted like the selfish asshole everyone knew I was and allowed myself to be with her like I longed to. I would have rather had her for a moment than never at all. So, when we found her, however fucked up, I decided right there and then I would never, ever fucking stop until I’d made her mine. I would fight for her until the day I took my last breath. She would be mine…someday. But first, I had a promise to keep. The day I picked her beaten-up, half-dead body from the pavement, carrying her inside, I swore to her I would make this right for her. I vowed to make her tormenter pay with every last drop of his blood. I would never stop until I’d avenged her pain.

  I leaned against the plastered wall, lighting a cigarette, feeling how the smoke stuck to my throat as it went down to settle in my lungs.

  Slither always managed to escape us somehow, finding a way to mind-fuck us while he skidded his evil ass out of every situation where we thought we had him. He was like the motherfucking Houdini of street crews. I was starting to lose my patience, the itch for retaliation becoming like a virus. Deep down, I knew Onyx and Granite made the best decisions for the crew. I respected them for it. But my promise to Neon was something I was hellbent on keeping, no matter what.

  No. Matter. What.

  When Onyx and I rushed into that room, catching Slither with his dick out of his pants, Wraith lying on the bed like dead prey, I knew we had him. But with Onyx caught in a freak-out frenzy, I knew Slither would not live long enough to see another day. There was a bullet in Onyx’s gun with Slither’s name on, and it would have been lodged in his skull before dawn. Onyx’s anger would have taken away my chance to fulfill my promise to Neon, and I couldn’t let that happen.

  Taking a few more deep drags, I exhaled a cloud of smoke before flicking the bud to the floor and stomping on it then making my way down the dark corridor. The only light came from the room right at the end—the same room where they tortured and raped Neon for hours. The closer I got to the light, the more I felt wickedness stir in me, a malevolent justice knocking at my skull. Every inch of my skin prickled with the rush of adrenaline, an exhilarating restlessness gnawing at my bones.

  I stepped into the room, my black boots a stark contrast against the white tiles, perfect to see every drop of blood I would spill.

  Pulling out the knife in my pocket, I looked up and smiled, the sight before me making my blood sing with victory. “Welcome to my world, snake. Are you ready to shed some skin?”

  Chapter One

  Ink

  There was something about a man’s screams that sounded all kinds of fucked up. When he let out the agony and pain, and it was so thick you could almost taste it, it fucked with your mind. It fucked with your brain because a man wasn’t supposed to scream and cry. A man sho
uld be tough, hard, capable of swallowing pain—or at least, if you had balls, you should keep the agony bottled up inside and not fucking voice it.

  Yet there was one man’s screams I hungered for. I needed to savor it on my tongue and swallow it down. The craving to hear his pain was so strong it fucking controlled me. Possessed me. And I wouldn’t be satiated until I’d extracted every goddamn cry and every breath until he would finally take his last.

  But I had to give it to him; the fucker tried to be brave. For the first few hours, he only grunted and groaned, refusing to open his mouth. Funny how at first he couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut and tongue hidden whenever we met on the streets. But here, I could see it in his ugly mouse-colored eyes that he was determined not to give me what I so desperately wanted.

  His screams.

  After the second time he passed out, he woke up screaming while I scorched the skin off the top of his feet. Nothing compared to the stench of burning flesh as it bubbled and oozed under the flame of my blowtorch, the sight causing my spine to tingle. The sound of torment that ripped from his throat was fucking beautiful, like a melody that sang to my darkness. I had to close my eyes as exhilaration rippled through my insides, settling in my chest with delight. Luckily, this room was soundproof, and his screams had nowhere to go, trapped between these walls for only me to hear.

  The chains complained as his body swung from side to side. Tied by the wrists and hanging from the ceiling, his toes barely touched the ground. Blood had already started to drip on the floor beneath his feet, the crimson a stark contrast against the white tiles. It was fucking beautiful—especially with his charred feet dangling just above it.

  I sat on a crate, brushing the pad of my thumb against the blade in my hand, I watched him, seemingly lifeless. But I knew the son of a bitch was still breathing. I made sure of it. There was no way in hell he’d have a quick exit—not by my hand. He would suffer, and he would endure an immense amount of torture before I’d allow him to take his last breath. Death was far too merciful for a fucker like him.

  I knew this day would come. I had imagined it so many times, fucking dreamt about it every goddamn day for months. It didn’t take me long to discover where this room was and how to get to it. But I kept it to myself, not sharing with the others how many hours I had spent doing my homework, planning and plotting my revenge. While Granite and Onyx were bickering about who would lead the Kings, I was busy scheming and investigating these motherfuckers on my own since I wasn’t sure where the Kings stood in all this.

  My leather boots creaked as I got up, and I grabbed a bucket of water before tossing it at the rotting snake. His head jerked up as he gasped from the shock of ice-cold water to the face.

  “Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”

  He blinked a few times, water dripping over his eyes. “I wish you didn’t do that. I was having such a good dream.” He smiled through the exhaustion on his face. “I can still hear her screams, you know? The pixie.”

  I lost it, stormed forward and slammed my fist into his midsection. The chains rattled, and he grunted, swinging violently. But he merely laughed—a maniacal cackle with spit drooling from the side of his mouth.

  “That just earned you a few more days here in my hell, snake.”

  “Oh, I look forward to it. We’re really…bonding down here, wouldn’t you say?” His voice was soft, his body exhausted. But the fucker’s mind was still strong, and that was what I wanted to break first.

  I brought my blade up to his face, licking my lips as I pressed the tip of the steel under his chin. “Once I’m done with you, there’ll be nothing left.”

  His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “She’ll be your downfall, you know. The blue-haired pixie.” He took a breath. “It’s those we love the most who end up destroying us in the end.”

  Clenching my jaw and biting my lip, I dragged my knife down his throat just hard enough to let blood weep from his skin. Just a drop. “You know nothing of love.”

  “I know it’s for pussies.”

  I let go of his face and rammed my fist into his gut one more time, spit ejecting from his mouth with agonizing grunts. “You tried to rape your own sister, you sick fuck.”

  “She deserved it.”

  “She’s your fucking sister, man.”

  “Oh, come on.” He coughed violently, like he was choking on his own goddamn spit. “We both know you hate her. After all,” he looked up at me, one eye starting to swell shut, “you probably see me every time you look at my little sister.”

  With a half-grin on my face, I chose to ignore his last remark. The last thing I planned on doing was admit that he was fucking right.

  I started pacing. “I must say, snake, this is quite the little torture chamber you have here.”

  Sweat dripped from his face, his head hanging down, and I could hear his rapid breaths.

  I slowly circled him. “Why keep this room hidden in the basement of your own fucking compound? Don’t feel like sharing your victims with the rest of your crew?”

  Slither lifted his face, spit and snot covering his lips and chin. “Well, there was that one night I decided to share one of my victims with a few crew members.”

  My chest expanded, every muscle as tight as a rubber band. “Oh, you mean the crew members whose spines I tried to carve out of them?”

  He attempted to smile through the pain. “I’ll give it to you, pretty…you and Granite sure did a number taking my men down one by one.”

  “Don’t call me pretty.”

  “But you are. You’re the prettiest one out of all the Kings. If I had a pussy, I’d fuck you.”

  It was an involuntary reaction when I swung my fist and slammed it into his jaw. Blood burst from his mouth and splattered on the floor, mixed with his sweat and snot.

  I smiled. “Did you really think we’d let you get away with what you did to Neon?”

  “It sure took you long enough.”

  “A hunter bides his time, waits for the perfect moment to strike.”

  “Bullshit. It was your president—or rather presidents who kept you from finally coming for me.”

  I held out my arms. “Yet here I am, and my presidents don’t even know.”

  “They forced your hand.” He tried to smile with a busted lip. “You knew if you didn’t get me out of that room, Onyx would have planted led in my skull.” His gaze met mine. “And we both know there’s no way in fucking hell you’ll let anyone else kill me.”

  “One thing you got right, snake.”

  Slither glanced around the room with tired eyes. “How did you find this place, anyway?”

  I took a seat on a crate, playing with my knife in my hand. “A little piece of the building’s blueprint no one fucking knew about.”

  “But you did.”

  “Like I said, a hunter bides his time and does his homework before he strikes.” I smirked. “And with your fellow rapists dead—”

  “Courtesy of you and Granite going on a murderous rampage.”

  I looked up at the ceiling, a huge smile on my face. “Those were good times.” I sighed. “Good times. Anyway, now, with them dead, the only people who know about this room are you and me.”

  He snickered. “And one very beautiful blue-haired pixie.”

  It took me a split second to launch at him and grab his face, my fingers clawing into his cheeks. “Talk about her again, and I’ll cut your tongue out and shove one half down your throat, and the other up your ass.”

  The chains rattled and clanged as I let go of his face with a jerk, his body swinging back and forth. It was ironic, really, how he hung from the same ceiling she did. Being tortured in the same room where he tortured her. His little minions didn’t know where he was, and I bolted the door shut the day I brought him down here. Now, the only way in and out was through the secret door that led to the sewers.

  Slither spat out a mouthful of blood, trying to wipe his lips against his arm. “My crew will be looking for me, and my V
P—”

  “Oh, you mean Boa?” I rubbed the back of my neck. “See, the thing about a crew, you need to earn respect and not demand it. If the leader is a selfish prick, it’s only a matter of time before they start following the example.” I started to circle him again. “Something tells me Boa is quite happy to sit in your seat, snake. I don’t think he’ll worry too much about finding you.”

  His silence confirmed it. He knew just like I did that his crew’s loyalty was volatile, at best. They were loyal to the position, not the person. They didn’t care who wore the president’s tag.

  “You know I’m right, don’t you?”

  “Fuck you.”

  I scoffed. “It’s a goddamn pretty sight, seeing your confidence wither.”

  “You won’t break me, pretty,” he taunted. “I’ve endured pain far worse than you’ll ever be capable of inflicting.”

  I rubbed my fists together, narrowing my eyes as I stared at him. “You have no idea what I’m capable of, snake.”

  He snickered. “All this for a girl. Like I said, she’ll end up destroying you.”

  “I don’t care.” I pressed the blade of my knife against his cheekbone, slowly dragging it down, tears of red bleeding out of the gaping wound. He cringed, his jaw clenched, and his eyes pressed closed. “All I care about right now is making you bleed.”

  I took a step back and grabbed the duct tape, the rip resounding through the room. “Even though I love our little chats, I think it’s time for you to shut the fuck up.” I slapped the strip of tape across his mouth and leaned in closer. “At least for the next part.”

  His eyes widened, the only sign of fear I saw in him. I loved it. I loved how his own eyes betrayed him.

  “Take a good look, motherfucker. This is the only face you’ll see for a very long time, because I won’t stop until you beg. Until you plead for mercy.” I inched forward, gritting my teeth. “And I will show you none…just like you showed her.”