Darkness Embraced (Hades Hangmen 7)

by Tillie Cole

  Ash looked as insane as his brother as the three of them tore bullets through the Klan and cartel. Ash had snapped. Smiler was on the ground beside Slash, trying to pull him back to our line, Smiler’s face full of fucking agony. Tank helped him, but as the kid was dragged past me, I saw that he was gone.

  Diego.

  Diego had killed Slash.

  I was gonna fucking end Diego.

  “Tanner!” Adelita’s voice cut through the deafening sounds of bullets. Diego had sunk back into the cartel’s protection line. Rushing through the mass of battling men, I sank my knife into anyone who came my way, firing my gun and slicing my bullets through their heads. Adelita was rushing toward me. “Charley! Tanner . . . we need to get Charley!” Adelita fell into my side, and I searched the clearing for Charley.

  Viking was closest to her. “Vike!” Viking turned his head as he fought off the Klan. “The bitch!” His head snapped to the side as Charley staggered around, clearly drugged and disorientated. She was trying to escape. Viking slung his arm around her waist and tried dragging her back. But the bitch was fighting him. Punching him in the face and striking kicks. She broke from his arm, just as a Klan solider rushed at Vike. Viking stabbed the fucker in the neck, then slashed his throat. But before he could get Charley, she was being pulled back to the cartel line by one of Diego’s men.

  “No!” Adelita screamed. “Charley!” Cars and trucks from the cartel and Klan started roaring out of the clearing.

  “Pull back!” Ky ordered as the Klan and cartel started to retreat. Adelita was fighting to break free and find Charley. I kept hold of her, refusing to let her go. The clearing was littered with dead bodies. But I couldn’t see Charley among them.

  Viking rushed at Flame and started pulling him back from hacking at a body that was more than dead. Flame’s black eyes were insane as he fought Viking. But Vike held strong. “Flame. It’s Vike. We gotta go.” Clarity seemed to hit Flame. But not his brother. Ash had gone full fucking psycho, shooting at the dying Klan and cartel until their faces were unrecognizable, firing bullets into dead bodies just to see them fucking jump.

  Styx grabbed Ash’s collar and started yanking him back. The kid started trying to fight Styx. “Get the fuck off me! I gotta kill them! I gotta fucking kill them!” he snarled, face red and eyes bloodshot. Fucker was lost to bloodlust. Styx didn’t even entertain the kid; he just kicked his guns from his hands and threw him toward the truck.

  “He pushed me outta the way!” Ash roared, his voice breaking. “He fucking took a bullet for me and now he’s dead! That should have been me!” He punched his chest. “That fucking should have been me!” Flame rocked on his feet beside his brother. I could see by Flame’s tortured fucking face that the guy didn’t know what the fuck to do. But when Ash screamed and fucking roared into the air, Flame grabbed Ash by his neck and pulled him to his chest.

  Ash fucking fell apart as Flame’s eyes squeezed shut, and he breathed fast. Ash clung onto to Flame, and it didn’t look like he was ever letting go.

  AK came gunning toward us. He raced straight to Vike and Zane. He kissed Zane’s head. “You killed them?”

  “They killed Slash,” Zane said. His voice was shaking, and I knew that Zane wouldn’t be a kid anymore after today. Once you took someone’s life, any innocence you had left was gone.

  AK hugged Zane, then said, “Get in my truck.” AK turned to Ash, still in Flame’s arms. “Flame, Ash, you get in too.”

  Ash broke from Flame. He glared at the bodies. “Ash, in the truck,” AK repeated. Ash turned on AK. AK’s eyes narrowed. “I said get in the fucking truck, Ash.” Ash looked like he was about to argue, but he turned and got in the back next to Zane. The kid’s eyes dropped to his hands that were covered in blood, and he started rubbing his fingers together, fixated on the blood.

  “Home,” Ky ordered, speaking for Styx. “We convoy back to the compound.” I led Adelita toward the truck. She was quiet, too quiet. But when Smiler walked past us, covered in blood, heading to AK’s truck with a lifeless Slash in his arms, a cry ripped from Adelita. She watched them all the way to the truck. Smiler’s face was blank, but his eyes were full of nothing but fire and pain. My fucking chest tightened when he got in the truck and cradled Slash’s body to his chest. Tears started fucking streaming down his face as he kissed his cousin on the head over and over again, rocking him back and forth.

  Adelita watched it too. Her face was wrecked watching reality slam home to Smiler. Slash was dead. His fucking cousin was dead.

  “Lita, come on, baby.” But she didn’t move. She was numb and couldn’t tear her eyes from Smiler and Slash. I lifted Adelita into the truck and followed my brothers as they roared out onto the road.

  My heart started slamming in my chest as I thought of the way Slash had saved Lil Ash. Smiler’s cousin . . . gone. Because of motherfucking Diego. I was gonna kill him. Somehow, someday, I was gonna cut his fucking throat and smile as I watched him die a slow and painful death.

  I cut a glance to Adelita. Her lips were pale, and she was shaking. Hooking my arm around her shoulders, I pulled her to me. She immediately rested her head against my chest and put her arm around my waist. She held on tight to me as we drove all the way home. Her tears drenched my shirt.

  When we arrived back at the compound, brothers gathered in the bar. Edge and Rider were waiting for the men who were injured. I bypassed the bar and took Adelita straight to our room. I ran the shower and moved to where she stood. Her eyes were full of tears, and her arms were wrapped around her waist like she would collapse if she didn’t somehow hold on. “He killed him,” she whispered when I rubbed my hands up and down her arms. She was so fucking cold. “He killed him, mi amor . . . he killed that boy and it’s my fault.”

  My stomach dropped seeing her so broken, so sad. Slash was only a few years younger than Adelita. Right now, she looked so fucking young. “It’s not your fault, baby. It’s that cunt’s fault. He killed him, not you.” My jaw clenched just picturing the way Diego put a bullet through Slash’s head. The fucker had smiled.

  “He killed him in revenge. He killed him because I was here . . . he saw me with you. He can’t stand to fail, Tanner. He will have seen my abduction as a failure. This is just the beginning of his payback. I’m sure of it.”

  Adelita shook more. “Come on.” I guided her to the bathroom and took off our clothes. I brought her into the hot shower and let the water fall over her head. I cleaned the blood spatters she’d received in the fighting from her skin. And I kissed her. I kissed her, so she would forget, if only for one minute of peace. When I took her to bed, I laid her down and let her break down.

  “It’s wasn’t your fault,” I said. Adelita didn’t speak. She was too destroyed. I stared at the ceiling as her breathing evened out. I stared at the darkness and thought of that piece of shit, Diego. Thought of her best friend who was beaten and being dragged around like a slave, all so Adelita would comply. Then I thought of Slash as the kid pushed Ash from Diego’s arms. Thought of that bullet slicing through his skull . . . and his eyes, as they stayed frozen with death. Smiler as he held him in his arms.

  Adelita had fallen asleep. Slipping out of the bed, careful not to wake her, I threw on a shirt and jeans and left the room. When I walked into the bar, it was to fucking carnage. Voices were raised—brothers all talking over one another.

  Styx’s loud whistle silenced the room. Everyone turned to him. “We need a plan,” Ky said as Styx signed. “They’ll be back. That cunt is never letting this go. He wants Adelita and he isn’t gonna stop at anything until he gets her.”

  Tank’s hand came down on my shoulder. “You good?”

  “Yeah.” I wasn’t. But I wasn’t dead, so I kept my mouth shut.

  “We took what he sees as his,” Styx continued. “And he wants her back.” Styx ran his hand through his hair. He paused, like he was thinking something through. “But I saw that asshole’s eyes. It ain’t only about Adelita now. We showed him up. Fuc
kers like him can’t let shit like that go. So, I’m calling on some of the northern states. We need to end this war soon. We have more men than him. We have more guns . . .” Styx eyes hardened. “And that cunt has pissed me off. He killed one of our prospects. Sent him to the boatman. A fucking kid . . . it’s personal now.”

  “Diego is one of the bastards who fucked over Phebe and Sia,” Ky added. “Fuck the Klan. They’ll die in time. Right now, we’re going after Quintana and Diego. And we ain’t gonna stop until every single one of them is dead.”

  Brothers nodded in agreement. Some smiled, excited for the cartel murders that were on the horizon. Styx looked at us all in the eye. He raised his hands. “Fuck your bitches tonight. Tomorrow night we bury Slash, then we plan how to take out the cartel. Because make no mistake about it, Hades is about to fuck up a small piece of Mexico.” Styx dropped his hands, downed the whiskey that had been put before him, then walked out of the room.

  Tank ran his hand over his shaved head. “Shit brother,” he exclaimed and dropped to the table closest to us. I sat down beside him. “Did you see Beau today?” I nodded. “He was glaring at you like he didn’t even know you. The piece of shit. He’s your fucking brother. Never thought he was that far in with the Klan. But the way he was today . . .” Tank exhaled, cutting himself off from whatever he was gonna say.

  My pulse kicked into a sprint when I asked, “Did you see him go down? In the fight?”

  Tank met my eyes. He knew me better than anyone here. Only Adelita knew me more. He had to see that even after everything, pathetically, I was still worried for my kid brother. Tank lost some of his anger. “I didn’t see him in the fight at all. Then again, I didn’t see much apart from my knives stabbing necks and my bullets shredding through hearts.” I relaxed. But that meant shit. That battle was a mindfuck of blood and flesh. “Took out some of our old brothers,” Tank said.

  “And how did it feel?”

  Tank smiled. “Good, brother. Real fucking good.”

  I tipped my head back and ran my hands down my face. It was a shitshow. All of it. I had no idea if Beau had survived. If Landry had either. But I knew Diego had. Of course that slippery fucker had. I tried to think what his next move would be. But my head was filled with Slash’s face as he hit the ground and Adelita’s cries in bed as she blamed herself.

  “Fucking Lil Ash,” Tank said, voice shocked. I looked around the bar. There was no sign of Flame, Ash, Zane, or Vike.

  “He snapped,” I said, and Tank blew out a slow breath in agreement.

  “That kid . . . in that moment, he was Flame.”

  I thought back to Ash grabbing guns and starting the battle. The seventeen-year-old kid raining down bullets on the cartel and Klan like he killed for fun. Tank’s hand came down on my shoulder. “Brace yourself, Tann. I got a feeling this war is just beginning.” Tank got to his feet. “I’m gonna find Beauty.” He paused, then looked me in the eye. “You sure you’re okay? That was heavy shit today. Especially for you.”

  “Yeah.”

  Tank’s eyes narrowed on me like he could see through my bullshit. But he slapped my back and left the bar. I walked outside. I needed some fucking fresh air. The tents from the visiting chapters took up most of the grounds.

  Shutting my eyes, I pulled out a smoke and leaned against the wall as I let the nicotine work its magic. When I was done, I flicked the butt to the ground and went back inside. Shucking off my clothes, I climbed in bed beside Adelita and wrapped my arm around her waist. I was keeping my bitch close.

  Adelita had always been full of light. A damn firecracker from the minute I met her. But when Slash fell tonight, I saw that fire in her die out.

  I kissed her damp hair and moved my arm around her chest. And I fucking held on all night while she slept. I replayed today in my head like a damn record stuck on repeat . . . Beau, Landry, Diego, Slash . . . everything.

  It was all going to shit.

  Chapter Twelve

  Adelita

  I thought it fitting that the rain fell hard on our heads. My body was numb as I stared at the coffin. It was closed, the wound too severe on the prospect’s head to have an open casket.

  My skin shivered, but it had nothing to do with the rain. I trembled as the casket was lowered into the ground by Hangmen. My eyes fixed on Slash’s cousin. Smiler’s face was racked with pain so severe that I felt it crack my heart. I looked around the people here. At the men who had lost a brother. A man cut down in his prime. I looked at the women, and the sadness that illuminated their faces.

  And I looked to the other two prospects. The remaining two boys who Diego had taken. The younger of the two appeared haunted as his friend was laid to rest—coins on his eyes as per Hangmen tradition. But it was Asher that I focused on. His face wasn’t sad like everyone else’s. It was furious, his dark eyes savage in their glare. His body was so tightly tensed he looked like he was going to snap at any moment. His black hair stuck to his face as the rain sluiced down and drenched him. But his eyes never moved from the coffin, like if he stared hard enough, he could resurrect his friend.

  My stomach fell. Because he never would. He would never have his best friend back. And he would probably forever blame himself for Slash pushing him out of the way. When it was my fault. It was all my fault. Diego killed that young man because of me.

  All this pain . . . all this violence and death was my fault.

  Tanner’s hand sought out mine, giving it a brief squeeze before he let go. I couldn’t look at him as the men lowering Slash into the ground stepped back from the grave. Every one of the Hangmen took out their guns.

  As Smiler started shoveling the dirt over the coffin, Styx fired a single shot into the air, the sound causing the birds to scatter from the surrounding trees. Like a rehearsed dance, the rest of the Hangmen fired numerous shots into the air. But Asher still didn’t move. His midnight eyes stayed fixed on the quickly covered coffin, his jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists at his side. I tore my eyes away, unable to witness such pain and rage, only to find Saffie flickering covert, worried glances toward Asher. She stood under her mother’s umbrella, holding onto Phebe as always. It was like Saffie couldn’t stand without her mother’s help. But her eyes kept drifting to Asher. He never once noticed her looking. And I thought it was a shame. Asher clearly needed someone to comfort him right now. And Saffie looked like she might be willing to offer it.

  When the final shot rang out, silence fell around the forest. We all watched as the last of the dirt was thrown over the coffin, and Smiler brought over a temporary cross to stand at the head of the grave. Tanner had told me that a Hangmen headstone was being made.

  Smiler took a sledgehammer and knocked the cross into the ground. And I swore, with each hit of the hammer on the simple wooden cross, I saw a part of his soul disappear. The rain had lessened enough for me to realize that the drops falling down Smiler’s cheeks were not rain. But tears for the cousin he would never see again, the family member he had lost. I could no longer fight the lump in my throat at the sight of such a strong man breaking. Only to become worse when the doctor I knew as Rider came forward and put his hand on Smiler’s arm. Smiler’s hands shook as he hit the cross for the final time. Then like a dam cracking, he turned his head into Rider’s chest and agonized cries soared from his shattered heart.

  It was too much. The guilt, the pain and the knowledge that it was all because of me that Slash was dead. That Smiler had lost his cousin. Tanner must have sensed my sadness, as he wrapped me in his arms. I buried my face in his cut and let the familiar scent of Tanner and leather warm me. But it was no use. I was cold. And I wasn’t sure if I could ever feel warmth again.

  “Come on,” Tanner urged. I saw guilt written on his features too. Was this all our fault? Was this man dead because we had needed to be together so much? I wanted to ask Tanner, but I was too scared. I didn’t want to know the answer.

  Tanner put his arm around my shoulders and took us toward Smiler. Each o
f the Hangmen were walking to him and putting their hand on his back in silent support. Rider had stayed beside him the entire time. We stayed back and waited until it was our turn. My lip trembled as we approached him, and as I met his haunted eyes, I couldn’t speak. Tanner laid his hand on his back.

  “I am sorry,” I mouthed, and felt that I had never spoken so little for such great meaning in my entire life. Smiler didn’t answer. I wasn’t even sure if he was taking anything in right now. He looked numb, trapped in a hell from which he couldn’t escape.

  Tanner guided me through the forest and back toward the clubhouse. I stared at Hades on Viking’s cut up ahead. I stared at the dark god, noose in one hand and a gun in the other. I wondered if he had taken Slash into his arms—one of his own coming home.

  The sky was dark and turbulent, reflecting the somber mood of the entire club. We made our way into the bar, and brothers started drinking. I quickly realized that tonight wasn’t for quiet contemplation, but for drinking and temporarily forgetting the dangerous world these men—and women—lived in. It was to drink to a fallen brother, before the act of revenge would inevitably follow.

  We sat at a table. I felt Tanner’s eyes on me. I didn’t look up. My chest was swirling with too many emotions, and I knew he would see straight through me. Tanner always had. And right now, I needed to be alone with my thoughts. He didn’t let me be alone though. Tanner lifted my chin with his hand. As soon as I met his eyes, those blue eyes I adored so much, he leaned down and kissed my lips.

  I looked around the bar, at all the men and women. Smiler and Ash hadn’t made an appearance, nor had Rider. Zane was with AK and Phebe. At the funeral, the boy had never looked up from the floor. I remembered him shooting men two and three times his age, his bullets hitting hearts and heads and necks. And I wondered if he could sleep at night, or if the faces came to haunt him. AK had put his arm around his Zane’s shoulder at the beginning of the service and kept him close. That boy clung to him like a magnet.