Ruthless Hold (Back Down Devil MC #9)(29)

“Bring them in,” Miller said.

Trev stood with blood on him, staring at the prospects. When they realized what they were looking at, their faces all dropped. Two of them started to cry within seconds.

“Shut the door,” Miller said. “Guard it.”

Blaine shut the door. “Good luck, *s.”

“Now,” Miller said. “I’m going tell you something important about my club. We don’t tolerate weakness. When you’re given a job, you f*cking do it. You talk to anyone and you end up like our friend hanging here. Dead. Understand?”

All the prospects nodded. They said Yes, sir in unison.

“Now, my guy here, Trev, is in a f*cking bad mood. Anyone want to add to it?”

Trev stepped forward. He walked to a random prospect. “What’s your name?”

“Andy.”

“You have f*cking family, Andy?”

“None.”

“Your Daddy beat you as a kid?”

“No, sir. My Daddy left us. I was on the street by thirteen. Arrested by fifteen. Riding by seventeen.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-one, sir.”

“You want to see twenty-two?” Trev asked.

“Not unless I’m wearing a cut for this MC.”

Trev nodded.

He backed up a few steps.

Miller walked behind the prospects and gave a nod to Trev.

“Let’s make it very clear,” Trev called out, “what happens to anyone who f*cks with this club. I don’t want any doubts. I don’t want any questions. There are three things I love in this world. I love to eat. I love to f*ck *. And I love to kill.”

Trev slashed the knife down the other hanging prospect’s shirt. The guy let out a weak yell and Trev ripped his shirt open, showing the open wound. He then sliced the knife up and down, shaking, almost hating himself for what had to be done. All he could think about was Eden and how innocent she still was. The outlaw life wasn’t for her. She needed to be saved and then she needed to get the hell out.

When Trev stopped, he turned and looked at the prospects. They were all in shock. One coughed and vomit shot from his mouth. That led to two more throwing up before Miller ordered the door to be open.

“Christ, it smells like the shit Blaine likes at night,” Miller said.

“Hey!” Blaine said. “That was before. I’m a changed man.”

Everyone laughed except the prospects.

Trev stepped forward and held the knife out to a prospect. “Lick the blood off the blade right now.”

The prospect licked his lips. He slowly opened his mouth.

“Hurry the f*ck up, kid,” Trev growled. “We don’t have all goddamn day around here.”

The prospect stuck his tongue out and aimed it for the bloody blade of the knife. The tip of his tongue came within a centimeter of touching the blade and Trev took the knife away. He put a hand to the prospect’s chest and pushed him away.

“We’re not doing this again,” Trev said. “This life isn’t about looking cool. This life isn’t about getting laid. This life isn’t about riding a motorcycle and throwing the finger to police officers because you want to be tough. This life is about survival. We live on a different side of the law. We abide by our own justice. If you f*ck with that, there’s no arrests. There’s no lawyers. There’s no judge. No jury. No f*cking peers.” Trev held up the knife. “This knife is the judge. I’m the goddamn jury. And behind me…” Trev pointed the knife behind him at the two dead prospects. “… this is our justice. This is our proof of action. There’s no appeal. There’s no questioning. There’s no rehabilitation into becoming something different. You either handle this life or you handle our death.”

Trev grabbed the chair he’d been sitting in and took a seat. He cleaned off the blade with his t-shirt and then tucked it away.

“Now,” Blaine said, “you motherf*ckers get to unchain these two traitors and prep them for their final resting place.”

“Come with us,” Jace said. “We’ll take those cuffs off you.”

Everyone left the room except Miller. He shut the door and stared right at Trev.

“What?” Trev asked.

“That was deep, brother.”

“Deep?”

“Yeah,” Miller said. “I didn’t expect that. I figured we’d scare them. But you went deep. That’s the kind of speech I’d give when patching prospects in.”

“Whatever,” Trev said. “I just can’t take anymore bullshit within this clubhouse. You know? I’m already prepping my mind for what’s going to happen with the Daurian charter. It’s going to get nasty as f*ck with Rippy.”

“Yeah,” Miller said. “I said it before, Trev, and I mean it… you’d make a hell of a President.”

Trev rose up, blood on him still. “And I’ll ask it again… you giving up your patch, Miller?”

“Not unless I’m dead,” Miller said.

“I can chain you up and slit your throat,” Trev said and smiled.

“Anyone else in the world says something like that to me and I’d put a bullet between their eyes.”

Trev dipped his finger into a chunk of blood on his arm and then touched his forehead. “Aim for the red dot.”