SONS OF ANARCHY meets BREAKING BAD (but make it gay).
***
Young and naïve, Everett's preference for bad boys lands him under the protection of a handsome biker named Knox, aka The Beast. When a dangerous new attraction blossoms, will...
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❥ KNOX'S POV
"You should've picked the easy way out." Knox is expressionless while circling the weeping man sitting in the center of the room, some hangaround affiliated with The Jackals. "Now look at you. You're down to a single finger and half of your teeth are on the floor. Are you a masochist or what?"
"P-please..." The man chokes on his own blood when he speaks. "I'm telling the truth. I don't know where Russell is hiding. I-I haven't been to The Jackals clubhouse in weeks! Honest to God, man."
He's naked and trembling, body covered in hundreds of cuts that vary in size. The wooden chair he's sitting on is stained with his blood, and so is the cement floor. He's blacked out more times than he can count because the pain being inflicted upon him is too much to bear. His mind shouts for him to move again, and he tries, but the rope tied tightly around his wrists and ankles swiftly reminds him there is no escaping.
He'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time today, got snatched up quickly by The Fallen Angels, and now he'll die because of it.
"You weren't singing this tune half an hour ago when I started asking questions." Knox twirls the medium-sized blade around in his left hand with ease, showing off for the crowd. "Nah. You wanted to play the role of the tough guy, told me more than once to go fuck myself. Not smart to do when I'm the one holding your life in my hands."
The man sobs, thick snot dripping from his broken nose. No tears fall because his eyes are swollen shut. Every inch of him is on fire with pain that could only come from the devil himself. "I'm s-sorry—"
"Too late for that shit." Knox jabs the blade into the man's right thigh and twists.
He must've hit the bone because a new type of scream fills the kill room, one that belongs in a horror movie. Knox and the rest of his brothers remain unphased. This isn't the first time that they've had to torture the truth out of someone, and it damn sure won't be their last.
"We've been at this for a while now. Hate to say it, but I don't think he knows shit," Gavin comments from the back of the room. "And he ain't got much life left in him. Look at how slow he's breathing."
"What do you want me to do?" Knox asks, sounding relaxed despite the demons inside him being wide awake and thirsty for more carnage.
"We should stop wasting time and finish him off," Gavin answers. "Sucks to hit a dead end, but it is what it is."
Knox nods in understanding.
He removes the blade from the man's thigh, then moves to stand behind the rickety chair. He roughly grabs a handful of the man's dark hair with one hand, tilting back his head while positioning the blade against his sweaty neck.
49 times Knox has done this. Taken a life. It never gets easier, and his soul always darkens a few shades afterward, but this is the life that he chose to live. Killing is part of it.
