Darkness Embraced (Hades Hangmen #7) - Tillie Cole Page 0,123

hands. “Get everyone the fuck here. NOW! I’m calling church.”

“What the fuck’s going on?” Ky asked. Tank looked just as confused.

“Call fucking church!”

Ky and Tank left the office, and I took hold of Mae’s arm, slamming her to my chest. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her head. “You have to save her, Styx. You need to bring her back home.”

“T-Tanner’s gone too. G-Gone after her.”

Mae pulled back and placed her hand on my cheek. “No . . .” she whispered. Her face changed from sad to fucking determined.

Pure motherfucking Hangmen bitch right there. And she was fucking mine.

“Then bring them both back, baby. Where they belong. This changes everything. For you . . . For Charon . . . For her . . .” I took Mae’s mouth, kissed the fuck out of my wife. When I pulled back, she repeated, “Save them. This awful wrong needs to be made right.”

Thirty minutes later, I burst into church, driven by fucking red-hot revenge. My chapter sat at the front of the room, the other chapters taking up every other bit of space. I didn’t fucking sit. I paced. Then I stood before them all, making sure all eyes were on me. I fucking let the fire in my veins lead the way. Ky didn’t question what the fuck was going on. My VP stood beside me, and spoke for me when I signed. “AK, clear the armory. Today we ride to Laredo, fully fucking loaded with guns, grenades, and whatever the fuck else we can take. Chavez and Shadow are waiting for us.”

“What’s happening?” AK asked.

“We’re going to Mexico.” I met every one of my brothers’ eyes. “We’re going to fucking war.”

*****

The low burn of the truck’s light was the only thing illuminating the space. I sat with my back against the wall. Ky sat opposite me. We all held Uzis. Tank was beside Ky. AK and Smiler took up the front—I didn’t give a fuck about Smiler’s ban. Brother was fucking fueled with as much revenge as me. He was one of the best fighters we had. He fucking deserved this, Wrox be fucking damned. AK and Smiler would be the first to go out. Viking, Hush, Cowboy, Bull, and Flame took up the rest of the cabin.

“The minute the door opens, we fucking fire,” AK said, his voice low so no fucker would hear. He checked his GPS. “Five minutes.” Then tension within the truck built as the minutes ticked down. My foot was fucking tapping on the floor. I could practically taste the blood I was about to spill. I could hear the screams from the cunts I was about to carve up. Nobody messes with my club. Nobody messes with my brothers.

And no fucker messes with my family.

We were in a trafficking truck. Shadow had arranged it. Like the Trojan fucking horse, we were sneaking across enemy lines in the trucks that carried their slaves into their camps. Shadow, Chavez, and the Diablos were in another truck. The other Hangmen chapters were hidden in the rest. The Diablos had taken down a camp that held the trucks, killed every last one of the Klan fuckers running it. Freed the bitches, and got us the trucks.

The plan to take down the Klan and the cartel assholes was simple. All of us in this life had enemies. Quintana was no different. In the drug game, you were always one massacre away from being taken over. Shadow gave me the name of the fucker who wanted what the Quintana family had. He’d been trying to take them out for years. Faron Valdez. We made contact . . .

The rest was a fucking cakewalk.

The Klan—all except the leaders—were camped out in one place. Their mothership trafficking camp in Mexico. It made the fucktards sitting ducks. Valdez would take the cartel. I checked my watch. He would have already made his move.

We were about to make our move on the Klan.

The truck rocked to a stop. I gripped my Uzi. I felt the fucking familiar rush of adrenaline sail through me. War. There was nothing fucking like it. I let the words from my mother’s journal fill my head. I let them fucking ignite the fire in my heart until it swelled my veins and made me want nothing but to see Nazis falling to the fucking ground under my bullets and German blade.

A knock sounded on the side of the truck—the signal from the paid-off driver that the

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