Wrath – Satan’s Fury MC Read Online L. Wilder

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
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I took off my helmet and headed up to the front porch. I’d just made it up to the front door when I heard, “Hey there, stranger.”

“Hey, Rosa.” I turned to face my beautiful, but intrusive neighbor as I asked, “How’s it going?”

“It’s going well. I’ve been busy at work, but it’s been good.” She gave me a half-hearted shrug. “I haven’t seen much of you lately. I was beginning to think something happened to you until I saw you pull up.”

“Been busy.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” She took a strand of her long, blonde hair and twirled it around her finger. “I was just hoping we might get a chance to hang out again sometime soon.”

We’d hooked up a couple of times, and it was alright. She was a great lay, but I’d had a hell of a day and wasn’t interested in a hookup. “Sorry, babe. I’ve had a long one.”

“Are you sure? We could watch a movie or…”

“Maybe some other time. Tonight, I just wanna shower and hit the sack.”

There was no missing the sound of disappointment in her voice as she muttered, “Oh... O-kay. Well, I hope you sleep well.”

“I’m sure I will.” I grabbed the mail from the mailbox and stepped inside. Before I closed the door, I told her, “Night, Rosa. Have a good one.”

I tossed my keys and mail on the table, then closed the door behind me. I took a quick look around, and just as I expected, everything was exactly as I’d left it. There were a few dirty dishes in the sink and a full basket of clean laundry on the kitchen table.

I ignored both and headed straight to the fridge. Since I didn’t see anything that looked appealing to eat, I grabbed a beer and headed to the bedroom. After a long, hot shower, I changed into some fresh boxers, then headed into the living room. I sat down in my recliner, then grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. I’d just started flipping through the channels when my cell phone started to ring. I grabbed it from the table, then glanced down at the screen.

When I saw it was Torch calling, I answered, “Yeah.”

“What are you doing?”

“Just got home. Why?”

“Savage and I are about to head over and watch the game at Bones’. Thought you might wanna join us.”

“Thanks, but I’m in for the night.”

“You sure? We got pizza and wings, and there’s plenty of beer to go around.”

“Sounds tempting, but I’m beat. I’m gonna finish off this beer and hit the sack.”

“Suit yourself.” Before he hung up, he said, “Get your rest, and we’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

As soon as he ended the call, I tossed my phone back on the table and turned my focus back to the TV. I found the game, then settled back in my chair. It wasn’t long before my exhaustion got the best of me, and I started to doze off. When I could barely keep my eyes open, I got up and made my way down the hall to my bedroom.

I collapsed onto my bed, and in a blink, I was out.

I had no idea how long I’d been sleeping when I felt myself being pulled into the darkness. I knew what was coming. The nightmares were always the same.

No matter how hard I tried to fight it, I would either be in that Humvee with my platoon, driving through the busy streets of Afghanistan when we ran over that underground mine, or in my childhood home the night my parents were killed. Both were horrific. Both left me a shell of the person I once was...

But on this particular night, it was the memory of my parents’ murder that had me tossing and turning in my bed. I could feel my heart pounding against my chest as the nightmare took hold. It started with flashing moments, first of my mother standing at the stove going on and on about her day while my father sat back in his recliner, pretending to listen to every word.

I could almost smell the flowers she’d have sitting on the kitchen table, and I just couldn’t fathom anything bad ever happening to her. In a blink, I could see Pearl, our big white Boxer, peering in through the front door window, pleading for someone to let her in. I was in my house, a place I once loved and felt safe in, but in a flash, it turned dark and my entire body turned ice-cold.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t move.

Then, the next instant, unwanted images bombarded my thoughts. The sounds of gunshots exploding through the house, small clouds of smoke drifting down the long hallway to my parents’ bedroom. A flash later, I was standing in the doorway, looking down at my mother and father lying in their bed in blood-soaked pajamas.


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