Gods & Monsters

Chapter 1 — Cobra


The Early Years

Stunned by the news, I blinked a few times as I processed the information. “You’re letting me come to Mexico with you?”

The president of the Scorpio Stinger MC nodded. My old man smiled at me from across the large wooden table as he leaned back and though the disease must have riddled his body, making every movement painful, he laced his fingers together behind his head with barely a wince.

For the first time Daemon and I had been allowed to attend the last ten minutes of a club meeting. I’d thought it had something to do with his lung cancer getting progressively worse, I never dreamed it was to offer me a chance to ride with the brothers.

“That’s why you told us to stay back while the boys went to get beer? You wanted to tell us that you’re taking Cobra with you but not me?” Daemon sneered. He didn’t even try to hide his anger.

The old man ignored my twin. “I’ve been watching you, Cobra. You can handle a motorcycle like any of the other boys. It’s a long ride, but I think you can do it.” Malone didn’t give compliments easily; I’d earned it fairly by practicing my skills every day till I mastered the thunderous beast.

Excitement bubbled up inside me. This meant my father acknowledged that I was becoming a man. That I was good enough to ride with the rest of the gang.

“Why is he going but I can’t come?” Daemon yelled, the scorn on his face a sight I’d become used to. He still threw temper tantrums like a two-year-old. I itched to punch the fucker in the face. I stuck my fists into my jean pockets to stop myself from planting a right hook on his chin.

My old man sighed, weariness etched on his leathery skin. “Because he’s the oldest. You’ll come next time.”

“Those five fucking minutes are going to count against me for the rest of my life. I should’ve killed you in the fucking womb when I could’ve,” Daemon roared, making a strangling gesture with both his hands.

I looked away. Didn’t stop him from sucking the life and joy out of everything.

“On second thoughts, glad I didn’t. This way when you crash and burn on that journey, I’ll be able to laugh on your fucking grave,” Daemon sniggered.

I puffed up my chest. “You’d fucking love to see that happen wouldn’t you? You’re always trying to rob me somehow. But guess what, asshole? You couldn’t kill me if you fucking tried. I’m a survivor. You’d be smart to remember that, little brother.”

My father coughed, his face screwed up in pain. “Cobra, you have a month to prepare for the ride. I want you to learn how to run this club, keep it afloat. ” Another fit of coughs made it difficult for him to speak. He spat into a handkerchief, then wiped sweat from his brow. “Let Ox and Ripper show you the tricks and get you ready. Think you can handle it?”

“Sure can. I was born ready.” I grinned. Fuck Daemon. I was glad to get away from his constant competitiveness. I’d show my old man he could be proud of me—that I was ready to be groomed to take over his legacy.

My biggest rival wasn’t another biker. It was my own brother. My fucking twin. Something I couldn’t name ached inside me. I knew other twin siblings—they were close, working together as a unit. I yearned for that with mine, but every year that passed tore us farther apart instead of bringing us closer.

My twin hated me. I tolerated him. No love was lost between us.

The old man pulled his shoulders back and knitted his brows as he stared down his other son. His fists balled by his sides. “Cobra has the business brains. And he’s the next pres. So suck it up like a man, Daemon. Stop your whining—you worse than a bitch.”

Malone wasn’t an easy bastard to live with, but he was a fair man. He hated squabbles between us, his backhand often landing on a cheek when he’d had enough. But since we’d grown nearly as tall as our father, the slapping had decreased substantially. The squabbles hadn’t.

“I’m fucking smarter than him. A better fighter. Better everything.” Daemon’s voice spewed bitterness. “You even love Ryder more than me—your own blood. Shame on you, old man.”

Malone gritted on his teeth. Daemon was lucky to be sitting at the furthest end of the table.

Ryder walked in on the conversation. “You misusing my name again? Didn’t you get a tooth knocked out recently because of it? Want another for the tooth fairy?” He grinned at Daemon as he flexed his fingers wide.

Every day since Razor and I’d rescued Ryder from juvie, he’d pushed his lean body through grueling workouts, swearing that nobody would ever place him in the same vulnerable position again. Ryder, even though younger than Daemon and I, was as fast as fucking lightning. He’d have us on our backs in a brawl before we even knew what the fuck had hit us.