Stitch (Satan's Fury MC #2)

“I need to get going now. I need you to hang here with Q’ while the doctor finishes fixing you up so I can go see about your momma. Can you do that for me?” I asked.

“Yeah, it’s alright. I like Q’,” he answered. Just before I turned to leave, Wyatt called out to me, “Griffin?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Please find my momma,” he pleaded.

“I’ll find her. Don’t worry,” I assured him. So much time had gone by, and I was beginning to worry that I might be too late. The thought of losing Wren tore at my heart in a way that I couldn’t comprehend. In such a short time, I’d come to feel things for her that I didn’t even know was possible for a man like me. I wanted her… needed her… loved her.

I looked over to Q’ and said, “Call me as soon as you get done.”

“You got it,” he answered, smiling down at Wyatt.

I rushed back to the hotel, and when I walked back into the room, Michael was sitting on the edge of the bed with his hands bound behind his back. Maverick gave me a disgruntled look and said, “He isn’t talking.”

“He will,” I told him, slamming the door behind me. I placed a crowbar on the table, and Michael’s eyes grew wide as he stared at it. I took a step forward, crowding him as I roared, “Where is she?”

“Already told you. I don’t know where that stupid bitch is,” he grumbled. “I went to the house and got my son. As soon as I had him, I left.”

I took a step forward, stopping just inches from his face, and glared at him. I could smell the fear rolling off of him. Men like him loved to make themselves feel strong and mighty by feeding off of the weak, but he was no fool. He knew I wasn’t weak. He knew I could kill him with my bare hands, and even though he didn’t want me to know it, I could see that he was scared out of his fucking mind. “I’m going to ask you one last time and then things are going to take a very different turn here, Michael.”

“Fuck you! You don’t scare me,” he snarled. “You’re just a piece of shit in a cheap leather jacket. You’re wasting your fucking time. I don’t know where she is and wouldn’t tell you even if I did.”

“You will,” I warned.

“Why do you even care? Why would a man like you want a tight ass like Wren in the first place? You get plenty of easy * where you come from,” he snickered.

“You made your choice,” I told him calmly. I reached behind him, cutting the rope that restrained him and set him free. He quickly stood, thinking that I was actually letting him go, but he was wrong… so fucking wrong. When he took a step forward, I reared my fist back and quickly slammed it into his throat, causing him to instantly start gasping for air. When he stumbled back, I grabbed his wrist, twisting it firmly behind his back until I felt it crack against the pressure, crushing his broken bone in my hand. His knees buckled to the floor as he cried out in pain. When I released his hand, he quickly pulled it to him, holding protectively against his chest.

“You know, I’ve seen their records,” I snarled, kneeling down closer to his face. I grabbed a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look up at me and said, “Now, you’ve got the same broken wrist that you gave to Wyatt.” I released his head and reached for the crowbar I’d laid on the table, hitting him in the side with enough force to break several of his ribs. When his body dropped to the floor, I told him, “Now, you’ve got the same broken ribs you gave Wren.”

“Please…” he gasped.

“Oh… there’s plenty more, Michael. I know every broken bone… every cut… every fucking scrape. So tell me, Michael. Did you stop when they begged you to stop or did you keep at it? Did you keep hurting them, time and time again?” I asked, slamming the end of the crowbar into his now broken ribs.

Blood trickled from his lips as he cried out again, “Please, I’ll tell you where she is. Just please stop.”





Chapter 21




Wren

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