The Devils Light (Saints of Vidar #1)

11 | Avoid

Mac

    The art of avoidance was not one I was unfamiliar with. Growing up in the environment I did, it was a skill I had to learn at a young age in order to survive. Avoid them and the wrath that would inevitably follow any and all missteps. No matter how small they were.

Since joining the Saints, the only thing I've had to avoid is getting caught by the pigs in uniform.

At least it was the only thing I had to avoid. Up until two weeks ago when Serge told me that the goddess with the golden hair and green eyes would be working with Stitch as part of his medical team for the club going forward.

Violet.

That's what he had called her.

A colour as beautiful as the flower by the same name. It suited her perfectly.

It also served as a reminder that something as delicate as a violet would inevitably crumble and wither away in my hands. Their purpose was to bring pain and misery to those they touched. Not to gently hold and caress a female, no matter how enticing the thought was.

I knew it would be best if I just stayed clear of her, and Bo, for the foreseeable future. Being near her only elicited confusing and new emotions within me and Bo's suave and charming nature just seemed to aggravate me further like a flame to an open gas leak, and I couldn't have that.

I openly own all the despair and loathing that threatens to drown me every single day, but I know Bo doesn't deserve to be at the receiving end of one of my rageful outbursts.

His life would not be guaranteed.

Picking up jobs from Aron every day has been my saving grace this past week. I left the bar before sunrise and returned long after sunset, ignoring everyone who still happened to be up as I all but barreled into my room to nurse my nightly bottle of Jack's.

These were the moments I wished for a place of my own. I had the money for it from the runs and completed jobs I have done for the club, with nowhere to spend it other than on cigarettes and the occasional alcohol bottle I didn't steal from the bar. The only thing that kept me in the godforsaken room above the bar was the fact that living with nothing but my own thoughts and company would certainly speed my way towards insanity.

Not like I was far off from the deep end anyways.

    A loud knock sounded outside my door, followed by Aron's voice. "Once you're ready to go, I got another job for you."

    I tossed my half empty pack of smokes aside, grabbing my cut before yanking the creaky door open.

    "Who's the victim?"

    He chuckled, following me down the flight of stairs leading towards the empty bar. It was nine in the morning on a weekday so our regular bar patrons were nowhere to be seen until later this evening. I took a seat at my booth, grabbing the manila folder Aron placed on the table as he sat across from me.

    "Some young fella named Wilson." He pointed at the small picture clipped onto a file inside the folder. "There's been talk of him being involved with Lionel's daughter."

    I analyzed the photo of the unfortunate boy before flipping through the papers behind it. They were his recent known locations as well as intel on his friends and family. Anything to be used as leverage during his interrogation.

    "What do you need me to get from him?" Depending on what our club required, my interrogation would either be for information or simply to terrorize them.

    Aron pulled another picture from within the folder, sliding it towards me. "Lionel is an ally of the Riders of Mors." The picture was of Lionel sitting in one of the Riders' hangouts beside Richie, their leader. "We need this Wilson guy to agree to pass on any and all information pertaining to them going forward. No matter how insignificant it may seem."

    Since Oscar was discovered to be their mole and disposed of, we had no one on the inside of the Riders of Mors club, which put us at a severe disadvantage.

    "And if he doesn't agree?"

    Aron looked down at the picture of the unsuspecting smiling twenty-something year old.

     "Then you know what to do."

~

    I watched the red twirl and mix with the clear water in the sink as I rinsed my hands clean before running them through my hair.

    The boy, Wilson, had been more stubborn than I had anticipated. Although he held no loyalty towards Lionel and his poor excuse of a club, he seemed to be bewitched by his daughter and initially refused to betray her, earning him a broken nose and a fractured jaw.

    Luckily, the idiot couldn't have made it more clear that she was his weakness. One threat to her safety and he was begging for mercy, quickly agreeing to be an informant for us.

    If that hadn't worked, I was not above breaking both of his arms.

    I walked into the bar, slightly displeased that the boy had not been a bit tougher and allowed me to beat him up a little more. My body was vibrating, every fibre inside of me screaming for more blood.

    It was now nearing late afternoon, and much to my dismay, people were beginning to flood into the building.

    After doing a quick sweep of the room, I headed towards Aron, who was sitting on a stool at the bar counter sipping a bottle of beer while conversing with Diablo who was wiping some of the glass cups behind the bar.

    "Job's done."

    Aron turned in the stool to face me. "Done as in 'we gotta call in the cleanup guys' or done as in 'he agreed to be an informant'?"

    "Tell Snoop to set him up with a burner." I nodded towards Diablo, who had grabbed and passed me a bottle I pointed at. As I turned to leave, I shot Aron another look. "You may wanna call the cleanup crew anyways. Pretty sure he shit his pants."

    They both laughed, knowing my intimidation skills were to blame.

    "Oh Mac!" Aron called out, stopping me just as I reached the stairs. "Serge has to make a run later tonight and he asked if you'd come along. He may need some backup."

    I nodded in acknowledgement before heading up to my room.

    Never one to say no to a run. They almost always ended in bloody confrontations and I secretly hoped we might encounter a fucker who may get a hit or two in at me.

    I felt my lips incline upwards at the thought.

—

Short chapter I know it's a bit of a filler, but next one will be much longer I promise.

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-Imaginer