He hands me one of the cocktails and watches me for a moment. Shoving my free hand into my pocket, I pull out my lighter and light the cocktail right before I throw it straight for one of the windows of the cabin.
The other men follow suit and do the same. There are three guys standing at the front door and we’re at the back. A dozen cocktails get thrown into the cabin and against the outer wall. Within minutes, the Donkey Punchers emerge.
I see Riot instantly. He’s only wearing his boxers, but he’s not hard to miss, the fuck. I growl, unable to stop myself, but it’s Dragon’s arm extending that causes me to pause. Clearing my throat, I don’t move, even if my boy is begging me to beat the absolute fuck out of him.
“Soon,” Dragon grinds out.
Riot’s eyes scan us, then his gaze connects with mine and I see the flicker of recognition when he realizes just who I am and that I didn’t die where he left me all those weeks ago when the Beasts came to his compound.
“You fuck,” he shouts right before he takes off in a dead run toward me.
Bracing myself, I wait for his body to impact with mine. I’m going to let him come to me, then I’m going to enjoy beating the absolute fuck out of him. I want to be close enough to see the life drain from his face. It’s going to be beautiful, and right before he takes his last breath, I’m going to tell him that Pamela is mine.
His arms wrap around my waist and he tries to take me down, but it doesn’t work. Before I can even get one good punch in, Silver and Wolfe drag him off of me, wrapping his arms behind his back and force his knees to the dirt.
“You fucking traitor,” he growls.
I smirk. “Yeah, but never against the Punchers.” His face blanches. “Man, you are a dumbfuck and if your men were more worried about vetting and security instead of fucking their own daughters and innocent stolen girls, then you would have known that I’ve been a Savage Beast for twenty fucking years,” I growl.
Riot doesn’t say anything. His jaw goes hard and I know that he’s not going to talk. That’s fine, we don’t need anything from him. Not a single fucking thing. We stopped them, they tried to beg us, they killed two of our own, and now their club ends right here and now.
The men bring over the rest of the club members and force them to their knees. I shake my head, knowing that nobody, no man could bring me to my fucking knees. They’d have to kill me before any part of my body, aside from my feet, touched the fucking ground.
“How’s my daughter?” Riot asks through his teeth. “And my woman?”
I smirk, my eyes flicking over to Dragon who now looks bored, but I know him well enough to know that he is listening intently and he is on full alert.
“Both of them are the best fuck I ever had, Riot. Why?” I ask.
Thank fuck Dragon told me that Pinkie was really Pamela’s mom before this, otherwise the fuck might have caught me off guard.
Although, I doubt that Riot knew Pinkie was even at our clubhouse all these years until his group infiltrated a few months ago. He thought she was dead, otherwise he would have searched high and low for her until he found her and forced her back. Riot isn’t a man who just allows what he thinks is his to walk away from him—ever.
He jerks forward, but Wolfe is still holding him back. I expect Riot to respond, but he doesn’t. Instead, his eyes narrow and he spits at my feet. I snort, then take a step backward. I don’t bother saying anything else. This needs to be done and we don’t need to compare dicks.
Mine’s bigger and Riot is going to be dead soon.
“Kill them,” Dragon says and lifts his hand, flicking two fingers in the air.
He doesn’t say anything else, he doesn’t have to. I watch as our men beat the fuck out of the Donkey Punchers with pipes. No guns, no tracing. Metal pipes to kill them, then throw the fucks in the fire, wipe down the pipes and toss those in as well.
Easy as shit.
Walk away without anyone being the wiser. Plus, if there’s an issue, I have no doubt that Dragon has some kind of contact nearby.
Wolfe continues to hold on to Riot. I watch as the man visibly shudders with each crunch of his brothers’ cracking skulls. At least he seems to have given a fuck about his men, even if he didn’t give a shit about his own daughter, or theirs.
“Let Jaguar do it,” Dragon announces.
The president is always the last to die. He has to watch all of his men fall before he can go down. It’s an unsaid rule, something that just became a thing. Not that we eradicate clubs often. In fact, I think this is only the second time this has happened in the twenty years since I’ve been a Beast.
“Happy to,” I say, taking a step toward him.
Someone hands me a pipe, but I can’t look away from Riot’s angry gaze. Bending down slightly, I look him straight in the eyes. I refuse to let him die without telling him about Pammy.
“I saved her. But she saved me,” I begin. “She’s mine, will always be mine. I own her and soon she’ll have my brand seared into her flesh. She’ll have my last name and she’ll carry my babies. She will be a Savage Beast until the day she dies.”
He opens his mouth to say something in response, but I don’t let him. I don’t need to hear his words. I don’t need to hear a fucking thing out of his worthless goddamn mouth. Lifting the pipe, I slam it down in
