Phillip was of no use to him. He wasn’t worth making the effort to send him out into the world. He was a piece of shit as far as the club was concerned. The moment he decided to go and help the other club, it had cemented Phillip’s death sentence. It was a good job Preacher had some people on the police force who’d happened to see him going into enemy territory.

“You know, I hate to state the obvious, but this didn’t have to happen.”

Staring into Phillip’s soon-to-be-dead eyes, Preacher waited as Phillip started to scream, but without his tongue it sounded more like a gurgle.

He tutted. “Keep on screaming. Where you are right now, it’s abandoned. The place doesn’t even have a name. It’s nowhere. There was a time it was someplace. A small town, peaceful, idyllic. The kind of place people raise their kids. A small school. A library. There was even a garage and a gas station. A diner. You know, the usual things that help a town, but I believe this was home to, like, four hundred people, and when they built the highway to pass a few miles away from here, no one visited. The town dried up. People had no choice but to move away. No one cared about this world anymore. It sucked for way too many people.” He shrugged. “A good old ghost town. It’s what it is called now. Some people believe the old tales that it’s haunted by the dead residents.” Preacher burst out laughing. “If anything, it’s haunted by the people I’ve killed here. Believe me, there have been a few. It’s so easy to do. No one around to hear screams, and if anyone is lost and passing through, the rumors keep people running on their merry way out of the fucking town. Now, Phillip, you were a good little soldier for a while, but like many good little soldiers, you got way too greedy, and because of that, you’re heading into trouble. So much trouble. You do know you’re not leaving here alive. There’s no way I can let that happen.” Preacher sat back down on the chair, straddling it. “You went to the Slaves of the Beast MC, and I can’t have that. I don’t like the stories you told them. My plans. My club. Even the schedule of my boy. I’m not going to deny he’s a fucking idiot, and there are times I swear he is not my blood, but I got that fucker tested the moment the whore spat him out, and he is indeed mine. Now, I’m cleaning up your mess.”

Phillip started to cry.

Phillip’s wife and kid would be returning home to finding a nice large pile of cash, a note, and a chance at a life without being beaten black and blue every damn day.

Preacher didn’t like leaving loose ends. In his fifteen years of being the Twisted Monsters’ MC President, he had learned many valuable life lessons. Never leave loose ends. Never show weakness, and never allow someone to believe you’ve got any morals.