Wild ridge

~death~

Another fucked-up day, as usual.

I sighed as I wiped the blood from my hands. My gaze drifted to the whimpering coward kneeling on the floor in front of me, begging for his life.

“Please… please…” he sobbed.

A chuckle escaped me.

“Listen to yourself.” I slowly walked toward him. “You and I both know you’re not leaving this room. The only question is whether you leave in one piece… or in a body bag.”

I watched him tremble, savoring every second of it.

“Now then, Dean… let’s have ourselves a little chat, shall we?”

He pissed himself as he desperately tried to scramble away.

“Tell me what I need to know…” I crouched in front of him until our eyes met. “…and I’ll make sure your death is quick. Keep lying to me, and you’ll spend your last few hours praying for a mercy that isn’t coming.”

Dean shook his head so violently I thought it might snap.

“I can’t! They’ll kill me!”

I clicked my tongue and smiled.

“They?” I let out a quiet laugh. “Dean… take a good look around.” I spread my arms. “They’re not here.”

I leaned in until only inches separated us.

“I am.”

His breathing became ragged.

“I guess nobody warned you about me.” My smile widened. “The name’s Death. Around the Wild Ridge MC, I don’t hand out second chances. I hand out funerals.”

I let the words settle before continuing.

“Your little gang made the mistake of declaring war on the wrong club. Now they’re going to learn why people lower their voices when they say my name.”

I stood, watching pure terror consume him.

Before, he’d been scared.

Now…

Now he understood exactly why I was called Death.

I couldn’t help but smile. Fear was an honest thing. It stripped people bare, peeled away every lie, every ounce of pride. And sooner or later…

Everyone talked.

“A few hours later, after plenty of begging and pleading…”

A few hours later, after plenty of begging and pleading, I made my way back upstairs.

The moment I stepped into the clubhouse, every conversation died.

Lightning stood waiting for me with the rest of the club. Patched members, prospects, old ladies… every pair of eyes landed on me.

I was covered head to toe in blood.

I didn’t give a fuck.

By now, they should’ve been used to seeing me like this.

“Is it done?” Lightning asked, his eyes never leaving mine.

I didn’t bother answering. I walked right past him, the heavy thud of my boots echoing through the silent clubhouse.

When I reached the center of the room, I finally gave a single nod.

“It’s done.”

A quiet wave of relief swept through the clubhouse. Some of the brothers released slow breaths, while others exchanged knowing glances. They knew the problem had been taken care of.

Lightning stepped beside me, resting a firm hand on my shoulder.

“Good job.”

I looked over at him, a small smirk tugging at my lips.

“I was just taking out the trash.”

A few brothers laughed, but it faded almost as quickly as it started.

Ace folded his arms.

“Did he talk?”

I let out a dry chuckle.

“He sang like a fucking canary. Amazing what people will tell you when they realize they’re already dead.”

A few heads nodded.

“And the rest?” another brother asked.

“They’ll be dealt with.” My voice remained calm, almost bored. “One by one if I have to.”

Silence settled over the room again.

Nobody questioned me.

Nobody argued.

They knew better.

In this club, I wasn’t just the enforcer.

I was the last face people saw before the lights went out.

When Death said your name…

You were already a ghost.

With Dean out of the way, I headed back downstairs. Two more men were waiting in the basement.

Two more names to cross off my list.

Their muffled screams echoed through the concrete hallway long before I reached the steel door. They knew what was coming. Word traveled fast when someone disappeared into my interrogation room.

I cracked my neck before pulling the heavy door open.

The two men snapped their heads toward me, their eyes widening the moment they saw the blood covering my clothes.

One of them immediately started crying.

The other tried to act tough.

I’d seen it all before.

“You don’t have to do this,” the tougher one spat, though I could hear the fear buried beneath his words.

I chuckled.

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

I stepped inside, locking the door behind me.

“I do.”

They backed themselves into the corner like trapped animals.

Funny.

Every asshole thought they were untouchable until they were the ones tied to the chair.

I wasn’t born a monster.

Life made me one.

Most people knew me as Death, the Wild Ridge MC’s enforcer. They saw the blood, the bodies, the smile I wore before pulling the trigger. What they didn’t know was that there was a time I answered to a different name. A time before violence became second nature.

That man died years ago.

The day my family was ripped away from me, the day I learned mercy was nothing more than a weakness people exploited, Death was born.

The club didn’t create the monster.

They simply gave him a home.

I looked between the two men and smiled.

“So…” I rolled my sleeves up. “Who’s feeling talkative?”

The one who’d been trying to act brave broke first.

“I’ll tell you everything!”

I laughed.

“I know you will.”