Wrath (Seven Deadlies MC)
Page 1
Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication Page
Chapter one
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Authors Note:


Copyright
Dedication Page
Chapter one
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Authors Note:
Copyright
Wrath (Seven Deadlies MC)
Content Copyright©️ 2017, Kaitlyn Ewald.
Published in United States of America.
First electronic publication: March, 2017
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Disclaimer: The following ebook is a work of FICTION. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for third party websites or their content.
Cover Image: Adrijus Guscia
Dedication Page
I would like to thank first and foremost my husband, Joshua. Your unending support and love have made this entire journey possible. Thank you for pushing me when I wanted to quit, and for always making sure I know how proud you are of me.
I love you.
To my best friend, Shannon, who let me bounce my ideas off of her until both of our heads hurt: thank you. You helped make this entire series happen, and I couldn't be more grateful. Here’s to us, to our journeys, and to six more books I've got cookin’ for this series!
Love you.
Chapter one
Pain.
All Rayna Claire felt was pain.
It throbbed inside of her like a second pulse point, leaving her immobile on the dirty bathroom floor.
The banging on the bedroom door right outside didn’t make her budge an inch as she sobbed into the worn, filthy tile.
It doesn’t hurt.
It doesn’t hurt.
But it did, it hurt oh-so-bad.
It hurt so much that she wished more than anything that his words would come true- that she’d be gone, dead, withered away.
“You stupid bitch! When I get my hands on you, I’m gonna fucking kill you!”
Her sobs were muffled by her arm as she hid her face in the crook of her own elbow, her skin splattered with purple and black and green.
She knew that her arm was broken, and maybe even her nose.
The pounding on the bedroom door didn't stop.
In fact, it got louder, and she knew that even though the bedroom door and bathroom door were barred, he’d get in.
He always got in.
She knew deep down in her soul, almost like a sixth sense, that if he got his hands on her this time, he would kill her.
That’s why she was prepared.
That’s why she had his favorite gun lying next to her, loaded and ready to fire.
“I swear to God, Rayna, I’m gonna end you!”
The banging suddenly stopped, and just like she predicted, the door splintered into a million pieces as his boot came through the weak wood.
She struggled to hold the gun in her shaky grip. Just as it was about to slip through her bloody fingers, she finally got a secure hold on the handle. She knew she had to end it.
End the torture, finally fucking end it.
The bathroom door flew open, almost hitting her, and then he came into view.
Flight.
His dark eyes were bloodshot, and she could smell the alcohol wafting from his oily pores as he stared down at her.
“You tricky little bitch, you think you got the balls to pull the trigger! Do you?”
He kicked the gun right out of her grip and lunged for her, squeezing her already bruised forearms so tightly she could feel the bones quiver beneath her worn flesh.
“Stop it! Let me go!,” She sobbed.
His yellow teeth bared, like a wolf on the hunt, like a monster ready to kill her for a pound of flesh.
He rained down hits along her body, aiming for anywhere he knew would hurt- and it did.
The pain was so unbearable, so soul-splitting that she was willing to do whatever she needed to ensure her own survival.
In one single moment the entire universe seemed to slow to a crawl as she hurriedly reached for the gun. He was too drunk to pay close attention, too busy hitting her in all of her soft spots to see what she was doing.
His anger always got the best of him.
Her lungs could barely expand to full capacity as she finally grasped the heavy weapon in her small hand and tugged it close to her chest.
He fell forward, his hands reaching for her throat, closing in around the smooth, fleshy column.
She fought against his harsh hold.
Rayna knew her struggles only made Flight angrier, but she couldn't stop.
Not this time.
He leaned closer to her, so close that the gun was pressed tightly between them.
Black spots clouded her vision.
He lifted her in his tight grip, giving her just enough time to pull the gun from between them and press it to the underside of his chin
Rayna’s hands shook roughly as she cried.
Flight’s eyes widened when he felt the smooth, cool metal of the barrel against his skin-
With a scream that belied all of her agony, she pulled the trigger.
Blood bathed her in it’s boiling arms, covering her and the bathroom she was trapped in.
Her sobs tore through the empty clubhouse like a category five tornado.
Rayna shakily pulled herself away from the dead body of her captor, grateful for only a moment before she realized that when the rest of the club returned, she would be killed for sure.
They wouldn't hesitate to splatter her brains all over the ground this time.
With trembling hands she pulled Flight’s burner phone from his jean pocket and swiped bloody fingers over the keys.
When she had the right number dialed, she pressed the phone to her ear.
Her mouth was split in three places and she could taste the fresh blood on her tongue.
There was only one ally close enough to her that she knew would come.
Only one man who would send help.
“Ox.”
“Hello? Who the hell is this?”
“Rayna Claire. I need help. They’re going
to kill me,” She whispered raggedly.
Blood pooled heavily in her mouth.
She lifted the gun from the bathroom floor before she limped towards the bedroom door, falling into the empty hallway towards the nearest exit.
Their clubhouse wasn't large by any means.
Rayna could easily make a break for it.
All she had to do was get off their lot and she would be home free.
“Rayna, you’ve been missin’ for months! Where are you? Where’s your old man?”
“Dead. And I will be too if you don’t send someone to find me.”
“Shit, I’m sendin’ someone. Fury will be there as soon as possible. Where are you?”
As she made her way towards the back of the lot she realized she wasn’t too far away from the highway.
Not too far, but not close enough either.
“Kentucky. Looks like I’m not far from your clubhouse,” She whispered.
“Don’t worry, Rayna. He’ll be there ASAP. Try to get as far away from there as you can. I’m going to alert the club of what’s going on. Do you know who took you?”
“Blazin’ Eagles.”
He swore under his breath.
“Stay on the line with me, Rayna. I need to track your location.”
Rayna did as Ox told her, knowing full well that the Blazin’ Eagles weren’t due back for at least another day.
They weren’t supposed to be, anyways.
That knowledge, however, didn’t bring her any comfort as she attempted to limp to her freedom.
“I can hear you struggling to breathe, how bad are you?”
“You don’t want to know,” She murmured.
He swore again.
“Rayna, I’m so sorry. About this and about your old man.”
She shook her head although he couldn’t see her.
“It’ll be okay.”
But it wouldn’t, and she knew that.
“Ox, there’s something I have to tell you.”
“What is it darlin’?”
“I killed the man holding me captive. It was self-defense. But,I killed him.”
“I’ve got your location. Fury is on his way.”
His words were cut off by the rumbling sound of bikes, and with a fear she’d never known before burying her logical thought, Rayna stopped walking.
She hadn’t made it very far- in fact, she was barely on the other side of the fence lining the property.
Anger welled up inside of her and she spoke softly to Ox as she turned back towards the clubhouse.
“How important are these men, Ox?”
Her words seemed to surprise him into silence.
“Ox, tell me.”
“Every club on the east coast wants them eradicated.”
“Send Fury to their clubhouse. I have business to attend to.”
The phone fell from her hand as she heard a group of bikes rumbling closer, but she was determined to finish what she started.
Rayna hated their bikes.
Hated what they signified.
She could always feel the vibrations through the rotting hardwood in the clubhouse when they came back.
With a limp she couldn’t and wouldn’t be able to shake ever again, she went straight to the armory. The door was unlocked, but that wasn’t surprising.
The Blazin’ Eagles were, if anything, unorganized and sloppy.
She knew where the ammo was kept, where their illegal weapons were hidden, where the drugs were weighed.
She knew everything.
Loading an automatic weapon wasn’t hard. In fact, it was easier than she remembered from her old lessons with Daddy...before he’d gotten his head bashed in.
Rayna was still crying when she lifted the barrel an assault rifle into her hands, the cold metal caressing her palms in a way that calmed her nerves.
She knew they'd be blindsided.
She knew they’d be drunk and high, too.
They’d never even see the attack coming.
It seemed like hours had gone by since she’d heard the soft rumbles in the distance, but in reality, it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes.
Once she had the gun hefted over her shoulder, she waited.
Rayna stood in the hallway, empty and completely dead inside, covered in blood and bruises.
The handgun she still gripped with sticky fingers went into her waistband.
She sucked in a harsh breath, cringing at the strange whistling sound that ripped through her nose.
The Blazin’ Eagles were right outside the front door; she could hear them laughing and joking and not one of them knew they were walking into the lion’s den.
Eeny-meeny-miney-moe-
Who will be the first to go?
The doors to the clubhouse opened, but Rayna was still tucked safely out of view.
She counted seven men altogether, but that was nothing to her now; the weapon in her hand would annihilate them all and it wouldn’t phase her.
Not if she wanted to survive.
Vengeance tasted bitter on her tongue, but it wasn’t tangy like the blood she spit at her feet.
The minutes ticked by as they spoke to one another, settled into their seats, laughed about leaving her there with Flight. He was the bastard that had made her life a living hell while she was held captive in their shitty, dirty hovel.
“That little slut is probably knocked out right about now. Too bad too, woulda liked a piece of that ass,” Crash said.
He was the president, and he was a fat older man with a beer gut and rotten teeth. He had a penchant for whores and cocaine that had left him in more than one hard predicament since she'd been there.
She had no idea how he was even still alive.
Rayna wasn’t the only one who wanted him dead.
“Who cares? Wake her ugly ass up.”
That voice belonged to Ringer, Crash’s second in command.
“Yeah man, fuck that little cunt,” Tool said.
Rayna hated Tool.
He’d been the first to lay his vicious hands on her, and he’d been the first to take her body while she screamed and writhed in agony.
Rayna decided she would kill him first.
The others? They were guilty by association.
She despised all of them, every last man in that clubhouse.
The man that she’d killed earlier, Flight, she knew he had a thing for little girls too, so she didn’t feel a hint of remorse for blowing his fucking brains out all over the bathroom floor.
Rayna took a step closer to the front of the clubhouse, watching and waiting like a wolf in the night.
Her short brown hair was stuck to her face, choppy and uneven from the hand of none other than Tool. He’d crudely chopped off her hair with a Bowie knife the first night she was there, laughing all the while.
It used to be long and thick, reaching her ass- a point of pride for her, really.
Until he’d taken that away from her, too.
“I just might go do that,” Crash said as he rose from his seat.
“Where is Flight, by the way? Thought he’d greet us with open arms. He hates that mouthy bitch,” Pistol said.
All the other men were ambling about, mostly seated around the same table Crash was at. They were all inhaling the cocaine they were supposed to be selling like it was air.
“I should check on him.”
Rayna didn't hesitate as she positioned the gun against her shoulder and fired her first round of shots.
Every man apart from Crash hit the deck, scrambling for their weapons as she pointed the high-powered machine at each and every one of them. They all scattered like rats, confusion and expletives spewing from their dirty mouths.
Mouths they’d used on her.
More than one head erupted, much to her satisfaction, as she made her way around the room.
She kicked over chairs, stepped over bodies, before aiming the gun at Pistol.
Rayna caught the two new patches that went
by the name of Lark and Snatch in her gaze, too.
She hated them too, and the vile way they’d fucked her against her will.
She gritted her teeth against the pulsing in her broken arm before she turned, looking at all of the bloody men laying helpless or lifeless on the floor.
When Rayna was sure they were all dead or dying, she took a step back and looked at her handiwork.
“You...fucking...bitch!,” Tool gasped.
The garbled sound of his blood clogging in his throat made her smile.
The sound of his wheezing made her insides warm.
I’m bloodthirsty.
He was lying on his side, cradling his chest. There was blood pooling around him at a pace that wasn’t quite fast enough for Rayna.
She stepped towards him and pulled the gun out of her waistband.
Kneeling next to him, she leaned in close enough to see the fear in his eyes.
Fear that tugged on the frayed edges of her soul as she watched, transfixed, as his sticky blood coagulated on the hardwood.
“Tell me you’re sorry.”
Rayna hadn't spoken in months. Her vocal chords felt charred and rusty, scarred from all of the screaming she's done.
“Fuck you!”
She smiled, the first smile she’d worn in months.
“You already did.”
With a glance around, she stood and aimed the gun at his head.
“No! You little fuckin’ cunt, you’re gonna get yours-”
Rayna Claire didn’t make a sound as she pulled the trigger and watched his head pop like an oversized balloon.
Rayna didn't budge.
In fact, she stayed there, listening to the sounds of an entire MC dying. An entire room full of men who’d hurt her, abused her, taken away her freedom and her life and her father.
They’d killed her daddy.
They’d killed her too, and they didn’t even realize it.
Rayna knew they didn't care.
None of these men knew what the fuck they were doing, and ultimately, that’s what had given her the upper hand here.
Everything that led up to the moment when Rayna was finally free was a fucking nightmare and she wanted to erase the memories from her head.
From this earth.
Moving towards the bar, she tossed every bottle she could find onto the floor around her. She didn’t have to look far for a lighter, everyone in the club smoked.