All Chapters of The Satan Sniper's Motorcycle Club: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

River I stand guard and watch my people at work. Mercy and After sneak up behind the two fuckers and slit their throats. I hear the gurgles as their blood flows through their throats like a waterfall. It's a sight of beauty and I get a sick fucking thrill as one of the men clutches his throat, like that, would save him. No one can save our enemies, not even Satan himself. They quickly and effortlessly dispatch of the bodies and take them to the side of the warehouse. That's our queue. Killer and Texas set their riffles up by the windows. Bull and I head on to the drain while Knight and Spade go in with guns blazing and a fever for the death of our enemies. I climb down into the drains, Bull following closely behind. The place smells like shit but to us, it's just another fuckin' day at this fucked-upness we call life. The sound of guns scream through the air as the souls of our enemies become damned to hell. My feet hit the water as I run through the tunnels.

Zero “I keep saying I ain't no kid and still you keep comin',”I gripe at him as we begin the slow walk back to the four story face brick building we call our clubhouse.Most of my weight is shamelessly on the brother.Truth is, I would probably be rolling down this hill if it weren't for him.“And I keep saying that you need to cool it with the booze, if you were a kid I would have belted your ass the first time and made sure you listened.”I snort at the idea of Knight belting my ass.Tightening my arm that's gripping his neck, I say, “You won't even kill a bee, how the fuck are you gonna belt a kid.”“That's because the bee is innocent, just minding its own business, a naughty kid is minding everybody else's,” He points out as we continue our trek back down.“You need help man,” I shake my head as I voice out the obvious.Knight's way of thinking should really be evaluated.“As long as my name is not Killer or Texas I think I'm good, are we going to the kitchen or straight to the

Beggar My Own Personal Monster My story has never been my own, it always belonged to somebody else, another person playing front and center. Me- Always the passer-by. Not many people know my story. Most have never asked. I mean why should they? I am just the beggar on the street. I'm the skinny dirty girl, way too skinny. 'She must be a drug addict', most people say, 'a whore'. How many of them actually considered the truth, I was hungry. How many stopped and rolled down their automated windows and actually gave me that fifty cents, or dollar? Not many. Because how could I possibly be hungry. People see me as the drug addict whore they want to see me as. None of them stop and consider that I was a kid at one time, born from a mother, innocent and clean just like them. Naked just like the

Beggar My thoughts of the idea of normalcy I once got to have with The Satan Snipers gone from my mind.The walk to the Royals Royce Lucca always goes on about is silent as the words in my mind.We drive back to my prison that is his home.The bright yellow monstrosity of a house is almost as grand as the white house I'd managed to see from the road a few times too many, promises happiness and a family environment.It is as fake and misleading as its owner.The white three meter high electric gates open up as the four guards stationed to the front walk to the side allowing us entrance.Their black suits and machine guns make me sick to my stomach. They remind me of the man next to me.Fake, a fraudster, mobster and my own personal monster.Lucca's phone rings just as one of the guards open my door and wait for me to get out.I head toward the double white doors as the housekeeper, Magdelaine opens it. She is a thirty five year o

BeggarA silent killer  The sound of the bedroom door opening pulls me out of my mind. There is no need for me to look up as I already know who is here.Even if I didn't recognize the sound of his shoes as he walks toward me. I never could, but now I would know.Not from the scent in the air of his cologne but from the evil aura of death that clings to him as a second shadow, a silent man, for a silent monster, the most evil of its kind.“Already waiting for your punishment. Very good, but today I don't have time. I need to leave in ten minutes so let's make this quick, shall we, stand up and face the window.”This is the Lucca I know, this is the man who married me by force with a gun to my head, who left me in a ditch naked so his men could rape me and torture me with fire and metal rods.This is the man who lives in my hell. My very own demon.Obedient, I do as he says.I don't f