It had been that way ever since he was a child. He was a big kid from the outset, his stocky frame making him a target for numerous bullies to pick on with their quick wit and spiteful words. The only way Sykes knew how to deal with such problems was with his fists. As he ventured into puberty, the puppy fat shed from his body and he was soon a specimen that had people doubting his age.

Every coach at school wanted him on their team.

A number of girls wanted his attention.

All Sykes wanted was to fight.

For a while, competitive boxing satisfied that particular itch. But the rules and regulations would soon put to rest any chances he had of taking it further. There were only so many times he could headbutt an opponent or knee them in the gut before he was banned by the boxing authorities.

Sykes wanted to fight.

He just needed permission to do so.

As soon as he turned eighteen, he enlisted in the army, happy to be surrounded by like-minded men and women, all of whom wanted to face danger head on and throw up a middle finger. As the years rolled by, he excelled, only once having his knuckles wrapped for failing to follow orders. The man was a skilled fighter and was soon recruited into the Marine Corps. There, he was able to fight alongside the best.

But the rules were even stricter.

Eventually, they became his downfall.

On a covert mission in Istanbul, Sykes, on a quest to neutralise an arms deal, decided to open fire in a public area.

He gunned down three members of a terrorist cell.

Five civilians were also killed.

A further eight wounded.

His complete disregard for his orders also cost one of his team their life.

Before a media storm could hit, the United States Marine Corps dishonourably discharged Sykes at the age of twenty-eight, after a decade of service. The betrayal of his country still left a bitter taste in Sykes’s mouth almost two decades later. It was why he decided to push back against the establishment, and why he thrived within the Riders.

For Sykes, there were no limits.

Despite Wyatt’s insistence on a strict code, where they moulded the law to their whim, Sykes preferred the idea of striking terror into the hearts of everyone who lived within South Carolina. Sykes had been against an expansion to New York. The idea of selling out the Rider’s logo undermined everything they stood for.

They shouldn’t be seen as a club.

Nor should they be the moral compass directing street justice.

The Death Riders should be a death sentence for anyone in their way.