It seemed like with every broken bone I heard, or trickle of blood I saw, the stronger I got. I thought back to every single time he had knocked me out, made me feel like nothing, left me bleeding on the floor. I swung that bat until I literally could not swing it anymore. He wasn’t moving anymore— he was already dead.
His face was bashed in, bones broken and pointing in different directions, and no more air was leaving his body. I was pleased with what I did.
I let out a shaky breath. I killed him. He would never show up from around the corner. I would never bump into him on the way to the market. Paul was gone forever.
I dropped the bat and walked out of the shed. I didn’t know what the next step was, but I knew I had to get out of there.
Riot, Tatianna, Remy, and even Duchess were all outside on the porch waiting for me.
I looked at these women who had quickly become my family. “It’s over. It’s done.” I felt my body almost give way as the sobs wracked me, but my girls ran to catch me. I leaned on them and we all cried, then laughed, then celebrated. This was a win.
“You go on inside and get washed up. We will deal with your ex,” Riot said, pushing me toward the clubhouse.
I washed up, and quicker than I would have thought possible, I was asleep. When I woke up, I could hear the girls laughing and talking downstairs. Everything must have gone to plan. I rolled over to turn on my light and sitting on the desk in a mason jar filled with a yellow liquid, was Paul’s balls, the ragged cut-off top tied with some sort of metal or twine into a pretty bow. I picked up the jar and read the small card attached.
“The start of a beautiful collection.” It was Duchess's handwriting.
I put the jar back down and giggled. His balls were on my table. The more I thought about it, the harder I laughed.
That was definitely a collection I would be proud to have— the balls of all the jackasses who dared fuck with my family. I couldn’t wait to get started.
Epilogue
Four Months Later
I looked around the gorgeously ornate table. Riot, my VP, was at my left, waiting for me to start. Tati and Remy, or Bumblebee and Free, as we had officially named them, were sitting next to her, and Duchess was on my right, all of them looking to me to start.
Word spread fast that there was a new crew in town. At first, folks thought it was funny that a crew of nothing but women had formed an MC club, but when the husbands and boyfriends of violence victims started coming up beat to shit or even missing, Eve’s Fury MC was no longer a joke. Women began flocking to us and men stayed the fuck out of our way.
We were all victims at one point, but I vowed to them that I would never allow us to become victims again. We would fight to the very death. If that meant things had to get a little dirty, so be it. None of us were afraid of a little blood.
I had Maven show all of us how to train with knives and guns, and Archer, the Wings of Diablo’s marksman, even trained with Free. Apparently, she was a natural shot. We provided protection for some of the ladies and, for a fee, we even ferried them away from whatever they were running from. Female business owners were coming to us for protection for their jobs, and night workers came to us for protection from their pimps. We had come a long way in just a few months.
Today was a first, though. Today we would vote on taking on prospects. There was a group of four who wanted to be Furies, all of them either victims of violence or affected by it in some way.
That decision wasn’t up to me— we had to decide as a whole.
“Furies, it’s time for church.” I picked up the diamond block in my hand and slammed it down on the table.
The era of Eve’s Fury had officially begun.
Twisted Steel: An MC Romance Anthology Page 55