Kings of Anarchy

by Caroline Peckham

  KINGS OF ANARCHY

  Brutal Boys of Everlake Prep

  Book 3

  Caroline Peckham & Susanne Valenti

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Campus Map.

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  This book is dedicated to cliffhangers.

  May you be thrown from the cliff of this book and many others with the knowledge that your pain has not gone unnoticed (and the authors are laughing).

  May your tears be shed with abandon and your kindles survive being thrown across the room (so you can come back for more suffering).

  May your partner shrink away in alarm and debate your sanity (while you garble about the love of your life who just died and who was not them).

  May you dive into the next book like a soldier returning to war, with battle scars on your heart and tear stains still dirtying your cheeks as you lift your chin and face another author eye to eye and demand, “More.”

  Welcome to Everlake Preparatory School.

  This series is set in the fictional U.S. state of Sequoia and centres around a pandemic similar, but more extreme than the coronavirus.

  If you need a place to chat books and escape from the world, we’d love for you to come and join our reader group. It’s a great community who you can share your passion for books with as well as having a few laughs with!

  We hope to see you there :)

  Click the map to enlarge.

  B lood. There was so much fucking blood. My hands were painted red with it, my shirt soaked through, the leaves at my feet stained wet with it, the crimson colour catching in the faint moonlight from above.

  "Tatum!" Monroe bellowed as he raced away down the dirt track, running at full speed, not even sparing a glance back at us as he chased after her.

  "Fuck," I cursed as I pressed down harder, trying to stop the warmth which was still pulsing from Saint's body beneath my hands.

  He'd passed out. Or at least I hoped he'd passed out. Because the alternative was a reality I refused to function in. There wasn't a world without Saint Memphis presiding over it as a self appointed god. There just wasn't.

  My heart was leaping and pounding in my chest with a desperate frantic ache which made me feel like I was tearing in two. Tatum needed me. But Saint would most certainly be dead if I didn't stop this fucking blood.

  Heavy footsteps tore towards me and I looked up to find Kyan running back my way, his face a mask of deadly intent which promised bloodshed and butchery.

  "Keep him alive," he barked at me as he passed, refusing to even look at Saint, like he didn't want to have to admit that it might already be too late for that. "I'm going to get our girl."

  "How?" I demanded as I leaned back just enough to rip my shirt off so that I could ball it up and press it down on the bloody wound and staunch the bleeding better.

  "Make a bargain with the devil himself if you have to," Kyan snarled as he kept running past me, heading straight for the cabin in the opposite direction to the way that Tatum had just been taken. "That cloven hoofed asshole won't want Saint coming down to hell to steal his throne anyway."

  I released a noise which was part strangled laughter, part enraged refusal of reality and part pure fucking grief, but Kyan was already racing up the blood-soaked stairs to the cabin before disappearing inside.

  "Don't die on me you hateful bastard," I snarled at Saint as I looked down at his almost peaceful face. Shit, he didn't even look evil in that moment and it was disconcerting as fuck.

  Monroe's desperate yells were fading into the distance as he raced away after Tatum and that motherfucker who’d taken her on foot and I couldn't even see him between the trees down the track anymore.

  Kyan reappeared with a set of keys in his grip, sprinting across the wooden deck before the cabin and launching himself off of it before leaping onto a bike I hadn't even noticed leaning against a tree to the side of the clearing.

  "I'm getting her back whatever it takes," he said, not so much as an inch of doubt in his words and leaving me certain that he'd do it, no matter the cost. He laid the bloody baseball bat across his lap and jammed the keys into the ignition.

  "Rip his fucking head off for me!" I yelled just as Kyan started the bike up and the roar of the engine broke the silence of the forest.

  "I'll do worse than that," he swore and with a spray of dirt, he sped off down the track, leaving me alone with a dying man.

  "Fuck, brother," I hissed, gazing at Saint's lifeless face as I continued to press down on the bullet wound as hard as I fucking could. "Don't leave us now."

  With a curse, I leaned forward pressing down on the wound even harder in a desperate bid to stop the bleeding. The bullet was still in there and I had to hope that was a good thing because there wasn’t an exit wound for me to contend with too. I just didn’t know if it had hit anything too important on the way in.

  He needed a fucking ambulance but we were lost in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by corpses and well beyond the range of any cell signal.

  My arms trembled as I fought to staunch the wound and cursed myself as fear took hold of me and locked me in its iron grip. I couldn’t lose anyone else. I couldn’t.

  “You are not allowed to die,” I commanded. “You hear me, asshole? That’s a fucking rule and I know how much you love abiding by those. You are not allowed to die.”

  The roar of the motorbike's engine being pushed to its limits faded away into the distance until it was just me and him, alone in the dark and bleeding. And I just had to pray that fate wasn't ready to fuck us quite yet.

  Tatum was out there somewhere counting on us. And Saint was counting on me. We wouldn’t let either of them down. The five of us had made our vows and sealed our fate. We belonged together and if I had to walk through the nine circles of hell to make sure we all stayed that way then I’d gladly do it.

  Saint Memphis wasn’t going to die on my watch. I fucking refused to let it happen. And when a Night Keeper decided something, not even the will of the gods could change it.

  I stared at the man who'd murdered my father, who'd shot and run over Saint, who'd destroyed my world within minutes. He was my death. I could see it in the depths of his eyes, could see him working out the details already, his tongue whipping out to wet his lips as he thought over what he'd do to me first.

  His gun was pointing at me across his lap, but his focus was waning now, lost to his fantasy. The car sped along a dark road and the silence between us was piercing. I let him fall deeper into a sense
of security, let him think I'd given up. But fuck that.

  His hand moved from his gun to rearrange the bulge in his pants and adrenaline pounded through my limbs. I twisted in my seat fast and kicked the gun from his lap with a yell of determination. It crashed into his footwell and Mortez swore, but I didn't hesitate before kicking him again, my booted heel slamming down into the centre of his crotch and crushing his junk, making him cry out in agony.

  My pulse pounded harder as the car swerved violently. I spun around fast, grabbing the door handle, pulling and twisting and yanking it as it still refused to unlock and I cursed Monroe for his choice of vehicle and its dodgy fucking doors. Open please, please!

  It suddenly swung wide, making my heart soar with victory and Mortez lunged forward to try and grab a fistful of my hair. He missed.

  "No!" he roared as I flung myself out without a thought, needing to escape no matter what kind of landing awaited me. The car bumped up a verge and I slammed onto grass, praising my luck as I rolled even though pain still burst along my back. "Bitch!"

  I got to my feet, panic making my breaths come heavily as I scrambled upright and took off into the dark trees beside the road. The car revved and headlights suddenly cut through the dark, illuminating me between the trunks and making fear wheel through me. I glanced over my shoulder, finding he’d parked the car, facing it towards the forest, the driver’s door thrown wide as he got out.

  A gunshot cut through the air and a scream of fear escaped me as I ducked instinctively. I felt nothing. No bullet tearing through flesh and bone, no heated metal driving into my body. So I ran like the hounds of hell were at my heels, but it was worse than that, far fucking worse.

  "You wanna play with me, darlin'?!" Mortez roared, his boots crunching twigs and dead leaves beneath his feet as he took chase.

  I veered away from the headlights, desperate to be swallowed by the dark, needing to get as far and deep into this woodland as I possibly could. My heart leapt as another bullet was fired and I swear my hair stirred in the air as it rushed past me. Fuck. Too close.

  I made it to a steep hill, racing down it and leaving the light of the car far behind me at last. My breaths sounded too loud in my ears, even the drum of my pulse was like a claxon. Every footfall was a giveaway. I was sound embodied. He'd hear me, find me, rape me, kill me - no. He won't. If he catches me, I'll fight. I'll win.

  I passed tree after tree, but his footsteps were still coming. My nightmare. My death. I could hear the heavy drag of his breaths even from here. Every one of my senses was alight. I was prey to a predator, but that wasn't right. That wasn't who I was. I wouldn’t be hunted down in the dark like a frightened doe running from a wolf. Not again.

  I darted behind a huge tree and slammed my back to it, pressing a hand to my mouth and falling entirely still. I needed to circle back, had to get to the Night Keepers. How far away were they now? Maybe they were coming, maybe they weren't far. Maybe all I needed to do was waste enough time until they got here. But my gut told me I didn't have long enough for that. The car had travelled too far from the cabin. I was on my own. And I had to be ready to face this monster who’d taken my father from me, carved a hole between his eyes. Eyes which had looked at me with love and pride and adoration. Eyes that would never see me again.

  I stooped down and found a branch on the ground, hefting it into my grip before standing upright again and swallowing down my fear. I was a fighter, I was the girl my father had raised me to be and I wouldn’t cower away like a rabbit in a hole. I was going to show this motherfucker exactly who he was dealing with.

  "Come out here, sweet thing!" Mortez's voice made me wince. He was so close. I didn't dare move, didn't dare take a single breath no matter how much my lungs burned. "I promise you this, it'll hurt less if you give up now. If not...well, I'll make you suffer real bad, darlin'. I'll break a few bones before I find out what all those boys are chasing one pussy for. Then I'll cut off all your pretty fingers and toes before I even think about ending your sufferin'. So what'll it be?"

  I heard him approaching the tree I was hidden behind and my fingers tightened around the damp wood in my hands. My muscles were bunched tight, coiled like a spring. Every ounce of strength I possessed was ready to be unleashed in this one blow.

  The flashlight on his phone wheeled across the ground to my right so I angled myself that way, trying not to tremble as his footsteps closed in on that very spot.

  One hard, furious blow could knock him to the ground. A second to the head could finish him. I just had to make the first one count. Once he was down, I wouldn't stop hitting until it was done. Until his blood stained the ground and he stopped twitching. I’d make him hurt, make him scream, make him pay.

  My fear gave way to a pure and primal desire to avenge my family. This man had killed my father, killed Saint. He would pay for that. He would suffer and cry and no one would come to his aid. I felt the monster in me take over, a creature which had no morals, only a hunger for blood and death and revenge. I'd never felt its full embrace before, just a dark energy that had sometimes possessed me. I had a soul which matched those of the Night Keepers, that called to theirs in the way theirs called to mine. We were the same in this one, fundamental way, I just hadn't realised it until now. Not until everything had been taken from me and I’d seen my father bleeding on the floor beneath me. Lifeless. Dead. Gone.

  "Come out, pretty pretty." Mortez stepped past the tree and I swung the branch, silent as the wings of death as it wheeled ferociously toward his head. It smashed into his face and he yelled out as he stumbled back, his foot catching on a tree root so he fell to the ground.

  I went for his head again, but he brought up the gun and I was forced to change direction, smacking his hand instead with a yell of anger. The gun went off and the sound of the shot ricocheted through my ears. But I wasn't dead. The bullet was somewhere in the sky.

  The gun tumbled over the ground and I brought the branch down again with a shriek of determination. Mortez flung up his arm and the branch broke against it, shattering in my hands.

  He lunged at me with a feral growl, throwing his full weight forward. I tried to twist away, but his arms locked around my legs and I crashed to the ground beneath him.

  I rolled over and tore at his face with my fingernails as he crawled over me, pinning me down with his huge body, his heated breath warming my frozen cheeks as he reared forward.

  "You fucking whore," he spat and hot, wet blood dripped onto my cheeks from the wound on his forehead.

  I shoved at his shoulders, clawing and writhing and kicking and trying to get him off me, but his weight alone was immobilising.

  His hand locked around my throat and he squeezed hard to choke away my screams. He ran his tongue over my mouth, across my cheek and up to my ear. I squirmed as bile rose in my throat, my limbs locking tight in disgust at his touch.

  "I’m gonna make sure it hurts now, sweet thing. I wonder if you'll scream for your daddy?" he panted in my ear.

  He released my throat, reaching for his waistband and I reared up and headbutted him as hard as I could. Pain splintered through my forehead and my skull rang from the impact as he lurched back with a wail, his nose shattered and pouring blood.

  "Fuck!" he roared, his hands flying to his face and I pressed my advantage, slamming my fists out, one snapping into his gut and the other into his throat.

  He lifted enough of his weight off of me and I slammed my foot into his gut as I pulled myself free, knocking him back onto his ass in the dirt and buying myself a few precious seconds. I managed to get to my feet and I lunged towards the gun which was illuminated by the light of Mortez’s phone abandoned beside him on the ground.

  I snatched it from the mud, twisting around and aiming it at him with my heart leaping. He was on his knees, staring up at me with wide eyes and I took a step toward him as victory crashed through my body.

  I pressed the barrel to his forehead, my upper lip peeling back as a cold, calm detachment too
k over me. I wasn’t afraid to pull the trigger. I wanted to do it. I ached to fucking do it.

  "You took away my only family," I hissed, my voice not even sounding like mine in that moment. It sounded terrifying. Merciless.

  I clenched my jaw and thought of Dad. Then I pulled the trigger.

  Mortez winced as a loud click rang out.

  Fucking empty.

  No.

  Half a laugh escaped him before I cut it off with a furious blow to his head, using the butt of the gun as a club. He fell back in shock and I didn't stop coming, not hesitating for a moment, not allowing him any chance to get the upper hand again. I dropped down to straddle him, whacking and whacking while his fists pounded into my flesh. I couldn’t feel the pain, I couldn’t feel anything but that gun shattering his skull and the way his screams tangled in the air like the purest kind of music. I was filled with hate and vengeance and acid.

  The fight went out of him, but I didn't stop there. I beat and beat and beat until blood coated me and there was nothing left of his face. It was only then I realised I was screaming. My throat was ripped raw as I let out every piece of pain this man had caused me tonight, let it tear through my body and fill the night with the sound. Tears mixed with the blood on my cheeks; I was soaked in his death, the scent of it everywhere. I looked exactly like I'd felt on the inside when Mortez had pulled the trigger against my dad, when he'd slammed the car into Saint. He'd taken too much from me and destroying him wasn't enough. But I still didn't stop beating the gun into his mangled face. I couldn't stop.

  T he piece of shit bike that had belonged to Tatum's dad snarled and whined beneath me as I sped along the road, ignoring its protests as I pushed it to its limits. I didn’t give a shit if the engine exploded beneath me so long as I made it to my girl before that happened.

  Cold wind bit at my cheeks and chilled the wet blood splatters against my skin as I rode hard and fast but I was finally rewarded for my efforts by the sight of headlights drawing my attention on the road ahead of me.

  I raced up behind Monroe's car, the 68 Mustang half up on the bank, its headlights casting the shadows aside between the thick trees to the left of the road.