Fresh Blood
**Zeus**
There are three rules in Black Vulture.
Don’t lie.
Don’t steal.
And don’t even think about stepping onto Fallen Gods territory.
Most people are smart enough to follow them.
Some aren’t.
Some are stupid.
Or desperate.
Sometimes both.
Like the kid standing in front of me.
He looks like a lost deer dropped straight into a pack of wolves.
Desert dust still clings to his boots. His chest rises too fast, too shallow—like he’s been running for his life.
Maybe he has.
Behind him stretches my territory. Gravel. Barbed wire. Steel and control. A row of bikes gleams under the lights of the clubhouse, cutting through the night like blades.
From the terrace comes the smell of grilled meat, smoke, and alcohol. Laughter. Glass clinking.
Normal.
Until someone crosses the line.
Loki is sprawled on a bench, whiskey in hand, watching like this is the best show he’s had all week.
Raven stands off to the side, leaning against a wooden post. Silent. Always watching. His eyes move slowly over the kid, calculating.
Hades and Ares wait in the shadows.
They know I’ll decide what happens next.
The air is thick. Heavy. The kind of heat that sticks to your skin and doesn’t let go.
I step closer.
The kid almost pisses himself.
His eyes flick everywhere. No control. No training. His face is pale, skin wrecked with teenage acne.
I glance at his arms.
Too thin.
No strength.
At his age, a man should be able to do twenty push-ups without collapsing.
Ares is going to enjoy breaking him.
Ares loves breaking things.
Especially the weak ones.
I crack my fingers. Loud. Sharp. Let the sound settle into his bones.
Then I roll my neck slowly.
Let him watch.
Let him understand.
I rest my hands on my belt. The buckle catches the light—our MC engraved deep into the metal.
“You fucked up.”
My voice is calm.
That’s what scares people the most.
He swallows.
Tries to stand straight. Fails.
His hands disappear behind his back, hiding the shaking.
Eighteen. Maybe less.
But there’s something there.
A spark.
Courage… or stupidity.
Same thing, sometimes.
“How did you get in?” I ask.
“Over the fence.”
Someone laughs behind me.
“From the desert side,” he adds quickly.
Hades moves in beside me, slow, deliberate.
“Over the fence?” he repeats, voice rough.
The kid flinches.
Now he realizes he’s trapped between us.
“Was it worth it?” Hades asks. “Throwing your life away just to prove you’re not a coward?”
He laughs.
Deep. Dark.
Loki lifts his bottle.
“Ten bucks he passes out before Zeus is done with him.”
Laughter spreads.
Raven doesn’t join.
His gaze shifts toward the fence.
Always checking. Always thinking.
“He’s got balls,” Raven says quietly.
Ares snorts.
“Or he’s an idiot. Lucky the wire didn’t tear him open.”
Reaper laughs.
“What? You wanted scrambled eggs for breakfast?”
The whole place erupts.
The kid goes pale.
I step in.
Close enough now.
I pat his shoulder.
He freezes.
“No one’s going to call you by your real name again, Mike.”
That hits him.
Hard.
“Do it fast,” he mutters.
Ares steps out of the shadows, flipping a knife in his hand. The blade flashes under the light.
“Fast isn’t really our style.”
Mike thinks he’s about to die.
I can see it.
In his eyes.
“You hear that?” I say to Hades. “He thinks this is the end.”
“Most do.”
I exhale slowly.
Not tonight.
Too hot.
Too much work to dig a grave.
And we haven’t had fresh blood in a while.
“You’re mine,” I say. “Ares’. Hades’. Every Fallen God standing here.”
Confusion flickers across his face.
I smile.
Just enough.
“Congratulations, kid.”
A beat.
“You start today.”
Silence.
“What… do I start?” he asks.
Ares laughs.
Grabs his shirt.
Drags the blade across the fabric.
Slow.
Controlled.
The kid almost stops breathing.
“Prospect,” Ares says. “You start tomorrow. You passed.”
He leans in, voice low.
“But if you say a single word about this club—”
A pause.
“You die in the desert.”
“Prospect?” Mike repeats.
Like his brain can’t keep up.
“You should feel honored,” Hades says.
Then slams a hand into his back.
Mike drops to his knees.
Ares smirks.
“You didn’t have to kneel.”
Still—he pulls him back up.
“No one’s going to hold your hand here,” Ares adds. “You work when I say. You stand when I say. All night if I want. Got it?”
“Yes,” Mike mutters.
“Go to Reaper,” I say. “He’ll get you a vest.”
I look down at his shoes.
“And something that doesn’t look like it’ll fall apart.”
He nods.
Still stunned.
Still breathing.
Barely.
“You start at six,” I add.
Reaper steps forward, eyeing him.
Shakes his head.
“Seriously? We’re taking this?”
“We’ll feed him,” I say.
“We’ll break him in,” Ares grins.
“Maybe he’ll turn into something useful,” Hades shrugs.
Reaper sighs.
“Come on, kid. I’ve got to find something your size. Never had a stick like you before.”
He turns.
Starts walking.
“Move,” he throws over his shoulder. “Before they change their minds.”
A pause.
“And you’re showing me exactly where you got in.”
His tone sharpens.
“We don’t make the same mistake twice.”
