Crux Untamed Read online

  Crux Untamed

  A Hades Hangmen Novel

  Tillie Cole

  Copyright© Tillie Cole 2018 All rights reserved

  Copyedited by www.kiathomasediting.com

  Formatted by Stephen Jones

  Cover Design by Damonza.com

  Spanish Translation by Vilma Iris

  Swedish Translation by Gitte Doherty & Paul Weallans

  ebook Edition

  No Part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photography, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written consent from the publisher and author, except in the instance of quotes for reviews. No part of this book may be uploaded without the permission of the publisher and author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is originally published.

  This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, actual events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters and names are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  The publisher and author acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book.

  Dedication

  To those who love whomever the hell they choose to love.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Glossary

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Glossary

  (Not in alphabetical order)

  The Order Terminology

  The Order: Apocalyptic New Religious Movement. Beliefs based on selected Christian teachings, strongly believe the apocalypse is imminent. Previously led by Prophet David (declared himself to be a Prophet of God and a descendant of King David), the elders and the disciples. Succeeded by Prophet Cain (nephew of Prophet David).

  The members live together in a secluded commune; based on traditional and modest living, polygamy and unorthodox religious practices. Believe the ‘outside world’ is sinful and evil. Have no contact with non-members.

  Commune: Property owned by The Order and controlled by Prophet Cain. Segregated living community. Policed by disciples and elders and stocked with weapons in case of an outside world attack. Men and women kept in separate areas of the commune. The Cursed kept away from all men (except the elders) in their own private quarters. Land protected by a large perimeter fence.

  New Zion: New Commune of The Order. Created after the previous commune was destroyed in the battle against The Hades Hangmen.

  The Order’s Elders (Original Commune): Comprises four men: Gabriel (deceased), Moses (Deceased), Noah (deceased), Jacob (deceased), Charged with the day-to-day running of the commune. Second in Command to Prophet David (deceased). Responsible for schooling the Cursed.

  New Zion Council Elders: Men of elevated status in New Zion. Appointed by Prophet Cain.

  Prophet’s Hand: Position held by Brother Judah (decesased).

  Second in command to Prophet Cain. Shares in the running of New Zion and any religious, political or military decisions concerning The Order.

  Disciple Guards: Male members of The Order. Tasked with the protection of the commune lands and the members of The Order.

  Lord’s Sharing: Ritual sexual act performed between male and female members of The Order. Believed to help the male get steadily closer to the Lord. Performed in mass ceremonies. Narcotics often used for a transcendental experience. Females are forbidden from experiencing pleasure as punishment for carrying the original sin of Eve and must perform the act when required as part of their sisterly duties.

  Awakening: Rite of Passage in The Order. On a girl’s eighth birthday, she is to be sexually ‘awakened’ by a commune member or, on special occasions, an Elder.

  Sacred Circle: Religious practice exploring the notion of ‘free love’. Sexual intercourse and behavior with many partners in a public setting.

  Sacred Sister: A chosen woman of The Order, tasked with leaving the commune to spread The Order’s message by sexual means.

  The Cursed: Women/Girls in The Order deemed too naturally beautiful and inherently sinful. Live separately from the rest of commune. Seen as too tempting to men. The Cursed are believed to be significantly more likely to sway men from the righteous path.

  Original Sin: Augustine Christian doctrine that says mankind is born sinful and has an innate urge to disobey God. Original Sin is the result of Adam and Eve’s disobedience of God when they ate the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden. In The Order’s doctrines (created by Prophet David), Eve is blamed for tempting Adam to sin, thus sisters of The Order are seen as born seductresses and temptresses and must therefore obey men.

  Sheol: Old Testament word meaning ‘the pit’ or ‘the grave’ or ‘the Underworld’. Place of the dead.

  Glossolalia: Incomprehensible speech displayed by religious believers during an episode of religious ecstasy. Embracing the Holy Spirit.

  Diaspora: The dispersion of people from their original homeland.

  Hill of Perdition: Hill on the outskirts of the commune. Used for seclusions of New Zion’s inhabitants and for punishments.

  Devil’s Men: Reference to the Hades Hangmen MC.

  Prophet’s Consort: Female chosen by Prophet Cain to aid him sexually. Elevated status in New Zion.

  Prophet’s Head Consort: Appointed by Prophet Cain. Elevated status in New Zion. Closest consort to the prophet. Sexual partner of choice.

  Celestial Meditation: The act of spiritual sexual intercourse. Believed in and practiced by members of The Order. Reaching a closer connection to God through sexual release.

  Repatriation: To bring back a person to his or her country or land. The Repatriation of The Order involves bringing back all the members of the faith to New Zion from foreign communes.

  First Touch: The first act of sexual intercourse with a virginal female.

  Hades Hangmen Terminology

  Hades Hangmen: One-percenter Outlaw MC. Founded in Austin, Texas, 1969.

  Hades: Lord of the Underworld in Greek mythology.

  Mother Chapter: First branch of the club. Founding location.

  One-percenter: The American Motorbike Association (AMA) were once rumored to have said that 99% of bikers were law-abiding citizens. Bikers who do not abide by AMA rules name themselves ‘one-percenters’ (the remaining non law-abiding 1%). The vast majority of ‘one-percenters’ belong to Outlaw MC’s.

  Cut: Leather vest worn by outlaw bikers. Adorned with patches and artwork displaying the club’s unique colors.

  Patched in: When a new member is approved for full membership.

  Church: Club meetings for full patch members. Led by President of the club.

  Old Lady: Woman with wife status. Protected by her partner. Status held to be sacrosanct by club members.

  Club Slut: A woman who comes to the clubhouse to engage in casual sexual acts with the club members.

  Bitch: Woman in Biker culture. Term of endearment

  Gone/Going to Hades: Slang. Referring to the dying/dead.

  Meeting/Gone/Going to the Boatman: Slang. Dying/dead. Referring to ‘Charon’ in Greek mythology. Charon was the ferryman of the dead, an underworld daimon (Spirit). Transported departed souls to Hades. The fee for the c
rossing over the rivers Styx and Acheron to Hades were coins placed on either the dead’s eyes or mouth at burial. Those who did not pay the fee were left to wander the shores of Styx for one hundred years.

  Snow: Cocaine.

  Ice: Crystal Meth.

  Smack: Heroin

  The Organizational Structure of Hades Hangmen

  President (Prez): Leader of the club. Holder of the Gavel, which is symbolic of the absolute power that the President wields. The Gavel is used to keep order in Church. The word of the President is law within the club. He takes advice from senior club members. No one challenges the decisions of the President.

  Vice President (VP): Second-in-Command. Executes the orders of the President. Principal communicator with other chapters of the club. Assumes all responsibilities and duties of the President in his absence.

  Road Captain: Responsible for all club runs. Researches, plans and organizes club runs and ride outs. Ranking club officer, answering only to President or VP.

  Sergeant-at-Arms: Responsible for club security, policing and keeping order at club events. Reports unseemly behavior to President and VP. Responsible for the safety and protection of the club, its members and its Prospects.

  Treasurer: Keeps records of all income and expenses. Keeps records of all club patches and colors issued and taken away.

  Secretary: Responsible for making and keeping all club records. Must notify members of emergency meetings.

  Prospect: Probationary member of the MC. Goes on runs, but banned from attending Church.

  Prologue

  Sia

  Mexico

  Seven years ago . . .

  I ran down the hallway. I kept my face forward as I made my way to the bedroom door. My heart was beating so fast it stole my breath. I fumbled with the doorknob. Then, heavy footsteps began to echo down the hallway. My hands shook, fear taking me in its grip. But the doorknob finally turned.

  I fled into the room, but before I could get to safety, a hand gripped my arm. Juan spun me around and slammed me against the wall. The breath was knocked out of me, my shoulder blades throbbing from the contact. Juan’s dark eyes pierced mine. He looked as perfect as always.

  But he wasn’t perfect. The man I loved . . . had fallen for so quickly and deeply . . . wasn’t the man I thought he was.

  He was . . . he was evil.

  “Why did you push me, bella?” I froze, every muscle in my body tensing as Juan ran his finger down my face. My lips were shaking, my back flat against the wall.

  “I’m . . . I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice catching on my stuttered breath.

  Juan smiled, then leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. I wanted to run. I wanted to scream, to tell him to get the hell away, but I was frozen in fear.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, his head moving so his nose could run down the side of my neck. His hand held my waist. He still smelled as perfect as always. He still looked as handsome as he had the first day I met him. Everything about him had lured me in. And now I was trapped. A stupid girl tricked by the devil’s pretty smile.

  “You’re my queen, bella.” He kissed my neck then cupped my face in his hands. His eyes studied mine—I didn’t know what for. I tried to smile. To prove that he could trust me . . . that he didn’t have to teach me any more lessons. I couldn’t take any more lessons.

  But Juan’s hands tightened on my face, squeezing until my legs started to buckle. I tightened my lips, trying to cage in my cry of pain. I squeezed my eyes shut. “Open your eyes, bella,” Juan said, mouth against my ear. Ice-cold shards traveled down my spine. But I did as commanded.

  “Good,” he said, smiling proudly. He loosened his grip, and I gasped with relief. “I chose you, bella. I chose you to stand by my side.” Nausea coursed through me when he said, “Your life could have been so different if I hadn’t seen something special within you. Do you know that?”

  “Yes,” I replied. And I knew he was right. What I had seen . . . what he did to them . . . I knew it could have been so fucking different for me.

  Juan kissed me again, soft and sweet, a complete contrast to the threat he had just laid at my feet. “I can’t keep away from you, bella.” He kissed my forehead. “You’re mine, rosa negra. And I’m never letting you go . . .”

  Chapter One

  Sia

  High Ranch, Austin, Texas

  Present Day

  “Steady . . . steady . . .”

  Sandy’s ears flicked back and forth as she heard me soothe her from my place in the center of the ring. I kept my newest mare’s training rein loose as she trotted on the sand. Her coat was lathered with sweat; so was my forehead. The sun was burning a hole in my jean-clad ass.

  “Okay, enough for today,” I announced, both to Sandy and myself.

  I had just fed her with hay and water and locked her stall door when I heard the all too familiar sound of motorcycles roaring in the distance.

  Frowning, I headed out of the barn. I walked to the front of my house and spotted two Harleys as they approached my door.

  Styx and Ky, I realized, giving them a surprised wave.

  They didn’t wave back.

  I perched on the top step of my porch as they pulled to a stop and flicked out their kickstands. Ky smoothed back his long hair and strode toward me. I got to my feet. “What y’all doing here?”

  I hugged Ky. He held on a little too long. It was weird. I pulled back, curious, only for him to look out to the distance, checking around my ranch. I was about to ask him what was up when Styx came toward me and gave me a brief one-armed hug.

  “Hey, Styx. How’re Mae and Bump?” A flicker of a smile graced Styx’s lips.

  “Good,” he signed, but my attention snapped back to Ky when my brother said, “Get inside, sis. We need to talk.”

  He grabbed my elbow and guided me forcefully up the porch steps. “Hey!” I said. He pulled harder, not releasing my arm. “Hey! Dickhead!” I wrenched my arm back. I turned on my heel to meet my brother’s moody-ass face. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “For once in your fucking life, will you just do as I say, Sia?” Ky said, exasperated. His face was red . . . in fact, so were his eyes.

  I crossed my arms across my chest. “What’s wrong? Why are your eyes all bloodshot? Why do you look like shit?” I shook my head. “And more to the point, why are you handling me like a damn child?”

  Ky sighed. His eyes closed, and he opened his mouth to speak. But then he didn’t . . .

  Styx cleared his throat. “Been a stressful time lately.”

  “Why?” I asked, immediately panicked. “Is Lilah okay? Grace?” I quickly checked my brother over for wounds, or . . . hell, I didn’t know what else. What the hell trouble bikers could get into. “Are you okay?”

  My heart started pounding, some weird sense of dread seeping through my body like a poison. Ky opened his eyes and nodded. “Everyone’s fine.” But I could see through his pretense. I was just about to call bullshit when Ky blurted, “Garcia’s back.”

  I was sure the warm wind was blowing, because I saw strands of my blond hair floating in front of my eyes, but I didn’t feel it. Ky’s mouth was working, saying something I was meant to hear, yet to my ears, he made no sound. I was lost to the memory of heavy footsteps on creaking floorboards as they approached my room. Memories of screams and barked orders scourged my mind . . . and his touch, his fingers running down my back, his lips nipping at my ear as he caressed my burned flesh. As—

  “Sia!” Ky was holding my arms, shaking me from my stupor. I blinked, but a suffocating lump clogged my throat. I blinked fast to rid the flood of tears from my eyes. “Sia,” he repeated, softer this time. I stared at my brother, wordlessly. “Get inside.”

  I let him lead me into my home and to the couch. A glass of whiskey appeared in my hand a second later, courtesy of Styx. I knocked it back in one, relishing the burning feeling that filled my chest. I shakily placed the glass on the coffee table and turned to lo
ok at Ky.

  “You better?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “He’s . . . he’s found me?” My voice was choked. I couldn’t have hidden my fear even if I’d wanted to.

  “Not yet,” Ky assured me. He got to his feet and began to pace. “Some club shit went down a while ago, and Garcia was involved. Fucker saw me and Styx.” Ky met Styx’s eyes. Styx nodded. Ky removed an envelope from the pocket of his cut. He placed it before me. I stared at the obviously expensive stationery on the table. My hands shook as I slowly reached forward and opened it. A Polaroid picture peeped out. When I finally pulled the picture out and turned it to face me, every ounce of blood in my veins seemed to drain to my feet.

  A single black rose.

  A black rose, on a bed I recognized so well.

  There was no note. No explanation. But I didn’t need one. This image spoke more than a thousand words ever could.

  “Mi rosa negra,” the echo of his voice whispered in my mind. His heavy Mexican accent sliding around the words like a delicate silk scarf wrapped around a thorn-studded vine.

  All of the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “Where . . .?” I cleared my throat. “Where was this sent to?”

  “The club.” Ky slumped to sit beside me. “Don’t like the cryptic shit”—he pointed to the Polaroid—“but I know that it’s his brand or something, yeah? The one he forced on you? On the girls he traffics?” I instinctively ran my hand over the plaid shirt covering my shoulder, where the small black rose tattoo had once desecrated my skin. I could still feel the scar under my fingertips, out of sight but never gone. And if I ever dared show my bare skin to the sun, a white outline would form as the area around it tanned. Erased, yet forever seared into my very flesh.

  Worse still, the longer I stared at that picture, the more someone else flickered to my mind, a face I reflexively recalled several times a day. Brief images of what might have happened to her. But only ever enough to taunt me; I didn’t know how to mentally unlock the rest. Where she was—