Jolt's Vengeance (Reapers Rejects MC: Second Generation: Nevada Book 5) by Elizabeth Knox

Author:Elizabeth Knox [Knox, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Knox Publishing
Published: 2025-02-17T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

Jolt

The stench of fear and sweat hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood.

I stand in the “butcher shop,” my eyes fixed on the pathetic figure before us.

Widow looms beside me, his presence a dark, intimidating force in the cramped space.

Widow's gravelly voice breaks the tense silence. "You gonna talk now, asshole?"

Our captive—the fucker who torched our car wash—whimpers pitifully.

His body trembles, fresh rivulets of blood trickling down his bare chest from where the hooks pierce his flesh.

The sight should sicken me, but a twisted part of me relishes his suffering.

He deserves this pain for what he did to the club.

"I... I don't know anything else," the man stammers, his eyes wild with terror.

Widow steps closer, his massive frame casting a menacing shadow. "Wrong answer, buddy."

I watch, fascinated, as Widow reaches for a nearby table laden with an assortment of nasty-looking instruments

My stomach churns with a mix of adrenaline and unease.

Part of me wants to look away, to distance myself from the brutality about to unfold.

But I force myself to observe.

This is part of club life—the ugly, violent underbelly that keeps us safe and in control.

"Last chance," Widow growls, selecting a wicked-looking pair of pliers. "Who do you work for?"

The man's eyes bulge as he stares at the tool in Widow's hand.

"Please," he begs, voice cracking. "I told you everything I know!"

Widow glances at me, a silent question in his eyes.

I give a slight nod, preparing myself for what's to come.

As much as I hate this part of the job, I know it's necessary.

We can't let anyone fuck with the Reapers Rejects MC and get away with it.

"All right then," Widow says, his tone deceptively casual. "Let's see if we can jog your memory."

As Widow moves in, I can't help but admire his composure.

The guy's a pro at this shit, no doubt honed from years of protecting the club and his daughter, Zoe.

The man's agonized scream snaps me back to the present.

Widow's got the pliers clamped around one of his fingernails, slowly pulling.

"Stop!" the captive wails. "Please, I'll talk! I'll tell you everything!"

Widow pauses, eyebrow raised. "That's more like it. Start talkin’."

As the man babbles out information between sobs, I find my mind drifting.

Is this really who I am now?

The easygoing, joke-cracking Jolt, now an accomplice to torture?

But then I remember the car wash engulfed in flames, the livelihoods threatened, the message it sent.

This is necessary.

"Jolt." Widow's voice cuts through my thoughts. "You hear that?"

I blink, refocusing on the situation. "Sorry, what?"

Widow sighs, clearly annoyed at my lapse in attention. "He says the Kodiaks are planning something big. Some kind of coordinated attack on multiple fronts."

My blood runs cold, but I’m not surprised in the least bit.

"Shit," I mutter. "Any details on when or where?"

The captive shakes his head frantically. "I don't know specifics, I swear! I'm just a hired hand, they don't tell me everything!"

Widow grunts, clearly unsatisfied. "Keep talking. What else do you know about their operations?"

As the interrogation continues, I find myself studying Widow.

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