Page 142 of Praying for Thunder

When the sounds of firing guns faded, and Piercer hit the ground, I mourned his death hadn’t been crueler. I had wanted him tortured, for days… but, in my heart, I knew Ani would prefer it to finally be over with.

Hearing Onus pant in anguish for his fallen brother gave this Hellion some satisfaction.

In a puddle of gore, a now unrecognizable body, my Ani’s murderer was finally dead.

I was in such deep thought about his passing, hoping Ani felt his soul being dragged into Hell, I was surprised to notice a shift of attention to something behind me.

Ta-dump. Ta-dump… came a horse.

“Ryannon!” yelled Mr. Stannon.

Men sighed, lowering their guns, but my little angel didn’t run to her father, exasperated by the night being with me had just put her through. No. Instead, she slid around my side to stand before me, her hands gripping my stomach.

My ears began to ring as she peered up at me, so innocently. She whispered, “You were so gentle with me tonight.”

At that very moment, I couldn’t help but notice my tattoo, Ani’s eyes above Rya as if watching over her like a guardian. The outstretched wings reminding me of the golden eagle that had lead me to the church - to Rya - with purpose. Was he trying to tell me something?

Air. I needed air in my lungs as clues from earlier, all unnoticed at the time, came together to create one horrifying picture.

Clue… “My Daddy doesn’t want me to marry you…”

Clue… Him screaming for her when we were at the church. “Ry! Get your ass home!”

Clue… “He said it was an accident.”

Clue… Bert was upset about her going on the road… His drowning…

Clue… Tonight... Rya’s body, no struggle… On birth control.

Clue… “That’s Jesus… He protects little boys and girls.”

Rya had prayed and prayed. Could it have been protection that never came?

Clue… I asked, “Who protects you, Rya?” … “Maybe someday you can?”

My hand reached into my pants for my gun as I told Weatherman, “Onus moves, shoot.”

Why him? Weatherman had given his whole life to the club. He deserved the kill.

I faced Mr. Stannon, Rya still at my front. For the second time that night, I held a gun from over her shoulder. This time, she buried her face in my chest.

Mr. Stannon was off his horse and jogging toward Rya but skid to a stop.

I cracked my neck. “Did you hire those men to kill your daughter?”

“What?” He eyed the many men closing in on us.

Flashes of red danced in my eyes. “Are they who killed your son? Or did you have the balls to do it yourself?”

He started backing toward his horse. “Rya, let’s go.”

Rya’s beautiful young body, naked, flashed in my mind. I groaned in disgust. My voice quivered with the taste of death on my tongue. “I sacrificed my time with her to save trafficked children. I literally put her in your hands to save her life. And it was her own father who was her biggest threat.”

Rya sunk deeper into my chest, clinging to my bare skin.

My free hand grasped the back of her head, holding her close to me, as tears burst from my raging eyes. “You sick bastard,” I spit. “Her innocence!”

A sea of men growling filled the air like gas fumes, threatening to suffocate the guilty.