Hounds of Hell MC 5: Crash

Sackett’s looked like a war zone. The usual warmth of the bar, with its smoky air and dim lights, was replaced by the stark reality of the aftermath. Tables had been overturned, chairs had been knocked on their sides, and glass from shattered bottles and mugs crunched beneath his boots. The usual hum of laughter and music had been replaced by the low murmurs of tired voices, mingling with the sirens of the police cars that had arrived. Flashing red and blue lights from the sheriff’s cruisers parked outside flashed through the windows to light up the walls.

Crash wiped a smear of blood from his cheek — he hadn’t even been sure if it was his — then leaned against the pool table, scanning the room. A few Cottonmouths were still there, milling around like vultures looking for scraps. A few looks were exchanged with the Hounds, sizing them up even now. But no one moved. The fight had burned itself out.

The Mafia guys, Bianchi’s men, lay scattered across the floor, their slick jackets and nice clothes torn and stained with blood, a sharp contrast to the ruthless image they had carried when they showed up at Sackett’s earlier. Now defeated, because the Hounds and the Cottonmouths had beaten the living shit out of them, they looked smaller, stripped of the power they thought they held over everyone else in the room. Some groaned in pain; others were unconscious. A few remained still, beaten beyond recognition. Their guns were kicked aside, useless once the Hounds got close enough. The authority the New Jersey fucks once commanded was shattered, replaced by the cold realization they had underestimated the Hounds. The mistake cost them more than just pride.

The sheriff’s deputies walked into Sackett’s and moved through the bar, talking quietly as they assessed the damage. Sheriff Sawyer stood near the entrance, arms crossed, his eyes cold and calculating as he spoke with the Hounds’ president, Razor. Crash could feel the tension in the room still buzzing like a live wire — as though the fight wasn’t really over — just paused. With the cops’ appearance, the Cottonmouths started making their exit. Crash knew they were looking for an excuse to start something again with the Hounds, but not with the law hanging over them.

Glancing at the overturned table near the bar where the fight had started, Crash shook his head. The place didn’t feel like Sackett’s anymore, not with the stench of the Cottonmouths lingering and the deputies keeping their distance like they also weren’t convinced everything was over.

Of course, it hadn’t felt like home for him since she had left…

The air was thick with the smell of sweat, blood, and spilled beer. Crash’s entire being was still wired for the fight, but he forced himself to stay calm. Sackett’s wasn’t just a bar, it was home turf. He didn’t like sharing it with the enemy and wondered why the fuck Razor had allowed that to happen. His gaze flicked to the last two Cottonmouths as they walked out, part of Baby Face’s old crew, whispering amongst themselves. It was hard not to imagine how different things would have turned out if that psycho were still alive.

Sheriff Sawyer’s voice cut through the haze. “We’ll need statements,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. The deputies started herding people into groups, separating Hounds from Cottonmouths and Mafia. There were others there even though Sawyer and his men had no idea how they were connected to any of it.

Crash was just grateful the shit was over. He was exhausted and pretty sure he had a couple of broken ribs. He hadn’t seen his younger brother the entire time and he wanted to know where the hell Perry had gotten off to. Most of all, like the rest of his brothers, he wanted the Mafia the fuck out of Mercy for good.

Not wanting to talk to the fucking police, Crash went out the back entrance. The cool night air hit him, a balm to flush out the bloodlust of the last couple of hours. Closing his eyes, he savored the moment, trying to be still.

Out behind Sackett’s in the field was an old barn that had been there as long as he could remember. Beams of light flickered around the inside of the old structure, telling him someone was out there. Sheriff Sawyer walked out of the bar behind him, walking past Crash and heading in that direction. Curious, because he hadn’t seen the twins since the middle of the fight, he decided to follow him. After thinking about it, he hadn’t seen Snow or Hero since then either. Even though his body ached with each step he took, he followed the sheriff. His injuries kept him from moving too fast.

As he drew closer, some instinct stopped him, whispering he should go back. What the fuck?

Crash followed Sheriff Sawyer out to the barn, his heart still pounding from the fight. The adrenaline was fading, leaving only the weight of what had just happened. The distant hum of the sheriff’s cruiser lights flickered through the trees. The field stretched ahead of them, the grass damp beneath his boots, and in the distance, the barn loomed — an old, forgotten relic that suddenly felt heavy with meaning.

As he got closer, the shadows around the barn seemed to thicken, the structure barely illuminated by the glow of the sheriff’s flashlight. The door hung slightly ajar, swinging gently with the breeze, creaking like something out of a nightmare. The air felt different, heavier, and every step closer sent a chill down Crash’s spine. He stopped, a sense of foreboding threatening to overwhelm him. Was it an aftereffect of the fight? Was he tired enough for his mind to play tricks on him?

Hearing the sheriff’s booming voice pulled him out of his head. Other deputies ran past him, darting into the barn. The sheriff walked back out with Margot Donner. Crash fucking knew she’d show up. Yeah, she was one of Sawyer’s deputies, but she also was with Ryder now. Perry told him he hoped Ryder would broom her fast, like he did all the other girls he went around with, but Crash defended her. Maybe it was because she let him go without a speeding ticket one night… and he’d certainly deserved it. As far as he could tell, Ryder was different with her. If she made their brother happy, what the fuck business was it of theirs?

Margot walked back in. Neither Margot nor Sawyer saw him as he reached the barn. Hero was walking out with Jade as Crash reached the entrance, and she was in tears. Hero’s eyes widened in alarm.