Wyatt had caught him at his most vulnerable. Naked and tired, Sykes had been humiliated for an audience of one. But it was enough. Wyatt was a smart man, and by literally threatening to cut Sykes’s nuts off, he’d neutered him. The palpable fear had been evident, and now Sykes knew that tonight had to happen.

If it didn’t, things would still change, but not for the better.

Wyatt had little use for weakness, and chances were he would be pushed away from his side and eventually out the door. Given his proclivity for violence, Sykes knew he would react.

Which would most likely lead to his death.

He stuffed his hand into his back jean pocket and retrieved a small plastic bag filled with cocaine. Anxiously, he tipped a little out onto the edge of the sink, lazily lined it up with his finger and then inhaled it. The sudden shot hit his brain like a cold hose of water, and he shot up straight, arching his neck back and letting the buzz rush through his body.

The shame he felt dissipated.

The pain in his groin subsided.

Sykes felt himself again.

‘Bit early for that, isn’t it?’

Wyatt’s voice echoed off the tiles, and Sykes spun on the spot to see his leader stood in the doorway, arms folded. A surge of fury joined the cocaine twirling through his body, and Sykes wrestled away his impulse to grab Wyatt’s throat and choke him.

‘Yeah, well, I didn’t sleep too well,’ Sykes barked back, turning away from Wyatt and staring at himself in the mirror.

‘I won’t apologise,’ Wyatt said firmly. ‘But I just want you to know I consider the matter over.’

Sykes grunted and shook his head. Wyatt watched him for a few moments before stepping back out of the bathroom. As the door swung shut, Sykes felt his grip tighten on the sides of the basin, his knuckles turning as white as the porcelain.

Sykes had done a lot of bad things in his life.

He’d disgraced the US Army.

He’d killed countless people.

One more bad thing was all it would take for him to get everything he wanted.

The Riders.

And after last night, after what Wyatt had done, his death would just be a nice cherry on top. Sykes pulled out his phone, opened his messages, and thumbed the keypad.

Time and place.

Within seconds, his phone buzzed with the required information and for the first time since Wyatt had crushed his testicles, Sykes smiled, thinking about how incredibly sweet his revenge would taste.

* * *

‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep, son.’