Sacrifice
Addison Jane
USA Today Bestselling Author
Sacrifice
The Exiled Eight MC Detroit Chapter Book One
Addison Jane
Copyright 2022 Addison Jane
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organizations, or places is entirely coincidental.
All rights are reserved. This book is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author. All songs, song titles, and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.
Disclaimer: The material in this book contains graphic language and sexual content and is intended for mature audiences, ages 18 and older.
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Book design by Swish Design & Editing
Cover model by Clint Wright
Photography by Reggie Deanching at Rplusmphoto
Cover design by Natasha Snow
Cover Image Copyright 2022
All Rights Reserved
My family betrayed me.
Tossed me out onto the street at seventeen.
But with a reputation to keep, my parents decided they would rather see their daughter homeless than have my teenage pregnancy taint the perfect façade they’d created.
I swore I’d never again let another person close enough to hurt my little girl or me.
Yet, every wall I built, he smashed straight through.
Hawk wasn’t just the VP of The Exiled Eight MC in Detroit.
He was alluring.
He was possessive.
And the scars that decorated his skin told the story of a dark past.
A past that was still lurking in the shadows, threatening to destroy everything I loved.
I was ready to fight for us.
I’d battled my own demons before.
But if they came for my family, I was going to start a war.
From USA Today Bestselling Author Addison Jane comes the first book in the
Exiled Eight MC Detroit Chapter Series.
This is for the readers who fell in love with the Exiled Eight just like I did!
Blurb
Dedication
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Connect With Me Online
About the Author
HAWK
My feet scuffed the church floor, unable to keep up with the frantic pace of my father and uncle as they dragged me down the aisle.
Widened eyes—some in horror, some in shock and awe—filled the pews on either side of us, all watchers desperate for front-row seats to my demise. I knew because I’d once been one of them, eager to watch the vulgar ritual, knowing it would give me nightmares but desperate to experience something so foreign.
So forbidden.
Something other than the mundane existence I’d been handed.
Maybe that was my mistake.
Maybe it was a sick addiction to sin that had forced me into the position I now found myself in. Being forced to pay for them.
We jerked to a stop a few feet from a small stage constructed from old pieces of wood with a base of bricks. It was made to be removed. It was there to make sure everyone in the procession could get a look at the show they were about to put on, but it could be taken down quickly and disposed of, so they had deniability if anyone came asking questions.
That kind of disgusting bullshit came with practice.
Because I wasn’t the first.
Not by far.
I was simply the latest.
Today’s lesson in obedience.
“My people…” The murmurs of the crowd instantly halted at the sound of Prophet Andrew’s booming voice.
“You should have listened,” my father whispered under his breath, his fingers pinching at my skin. “You should have done what you were told.” There was almost a catch in his voice, a sign of emotion I rarely heard from the man I shared nothing with but DNA.
I was number fourteen.
The fourteenth of thirty-seven children he had fathered.
With seven wives, he spent one night a week in each of their homes.
Because that was what a man did here. He collected wives like trophies, and the main aim was to produce children in the hope that one of them would turn out to be ‘the chosen one.’ The one sent to save us—the one who has the key to the gates of Heaven.
Did I believe it?
Did I believe our eternal happiness was dependent on a child being born with a perfect cross-shaped birthmark?
I honestly wasn’t sure what I believed now.
All I knew was that the chosen one wasn’t me.
“Bring him to me,” Prophet Andrew ordered, his hand reaching for the cloth covering a large square object on a stand beside him. He tugged the cover off, a dramatic reveal followed by a wave of gasps moving through the church, echoing in the vast space.
My body unconsciously jerked away from the slithering knot of snakes crammed into the glass box. It was a natural reaction when seeing a dangerous creature, self-preservation taking over, and screaming, “run.”
But there was no escape.
My father and uncle tightened their grip, yanking my frightened body onto the unsteady stage. “Taylor Noble, you are here today because you have questioned the teachings of The Valley.” I glanced back over my shoulder, noting that my younger brother Isaac sat in the front row, his head bowed, refusing to meet my gaze.
“I trusted you!” I screamed at him, knowing he was the reason I was there. He had gone to Prophet Andrew after I confided in him about the questions I was beginning to ask. My own flesh and blood. My brother.
“Not only that,” Prophet Andrew announced, a little louder. “But you have been spreading the same lies amongst your siblings and other members.”
“I think we have different opinions on what constitutes a lie—” A sharp blow to the back of my knees forced them out from underneath me, and I landed with a hard, painful thud.
I gritted my teeth, refusing to let Prophet Andrew see the pain on my face.
I knew it would give him pleasure.
It always did.
He wasn’t the only prophet in The Valley. There were three altogether, but Andrew always dealt out the punishments. It was like you could see pure joy fill anytime he could order a beating or some kind of sick ritual that I was almost sure he made up.
“Say what you will, Taylor Noble,” he continued with a scowl, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “We will let the snakes decide whether your heart is with The Valley or whether you are unsavable.”
He nodded to the tank of deadly serpents, and a man wearing thick gloves stepped up beside it, reaching in and grabbing a snake in each hand, tugging them from the writhing mess.
Don’t struggle.
Don’t fight.
Keep your heart rate low.
This was the test.
If the snake bites killed me, I was a sinner. If I somehow miraculously survived, it was God’s will for me to be here.
Had I ever seen anyone survive? No.
My father and uncle stepped back, leaving me kneeling at the prophet’s feet while the man with the snakes advanced. My heart wanted to race, run, and scream in fear, but I knew the more I panicked, the faster my veins would force the poison through my body and the quicker I’d die.
“It is time.”
It was almost like the snakes heard Prophet Andrew’s words, like they understood, because they both lurched from the handler’s gloves, each with their aim focused on my right arm.
Their fangs sunk into my skin, and for a second, I felt nothing.
The shock protected me for a single moment.
But it couldn’t protect me forever.
I wasn’t prepared for the scream that burst from my mouth—the pain was so excruciating and
overwhelming that I had no power over my body’s response to it. My breathing was short and sharp, and my arm felt like it was on fire.
The snakes finally withdrew, but my arm did not feel lighter with their absence, as it had been pumped full of venom.
I wrapped my fingers around my arm above my elbow and squeezed—trying to keep the poison from pumping into my body, ultimately stopping my heart.
I was so focused, so determined to fight the odds and win, that it took me a moment to notice the chaos that had erupted behind me. Booming voices, doors slamming, and screams from the pews had my head spinning.
Hysteria.
Around me.
Inside me.
“Enough!” The deep roar of his voice felt like it could have lifted the ceiling. It was otherworldly, and for a second, I wondered whether the poison had already begun to alter my perception of reality. The second time he spoke was much clearer. It’d been a long time, but I knew his voice. I’d heard it before. “I’m taking the kid.”
“You have no authority here,” Prophet Andrew screamed back, though there was a slight shake in his tone.
My consciousness was fading, whether from the toxic wave infecting my bloodstream or my body simply going into shock because of the pain—I didn’t care. I welcomed the darkness. The end of a life where I’d spent my days praying to a god I didn’t believe in, watching my sisters forced into marriages with men twice their age, and being compelled to work hard labor, only to hand over every cent we earned to the prophets.
A life where I’d been beaten more days than not.
“I’d like to see you try to stop me,” the godlike voice growled.
With the last ounce of strength in me, I looked over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of the wall of bodies that filled the open doors of the church—a blur of leather, tattoos, and denim.
One moved toward me, but I struggled to focus, unable to make out anything but the advancing shadows.
Everything that represented the devil.
“Come on, kid,” he murmured, scooping my body into his arms and walking out with me as Prophet Andrew screamed something unintelligible. “Hang in there, don’t give up yet.”
Was this him?
Was this it?
Was I in Hell?
Because if it was really Hell, then why did I feel so at home?
HAWK
“You’re late.”
I reached for an empty plate, only to be slapped on the back of my hand with a bright pink spatula. The sharp sting had me jerking back, crinkling my nose at my baby cousin, Calliope. “I’ve been down at Backroad, helping them finish shit.”
For extra impact, I scuffed my hand through my hair, letting dust sprinkle out onto the floor. The club’s new sports bar was still very much under construction. I’d spent the last four hours or so sawing, hammering, and sanding, so it would be ready for the painters to come in a couple of days. Most of the boys were down there helping because the place was meant to be opening in three damn weeks.
Calli huffed loudly and rolled her eyes at me across the table. “You gonna clean that up?”
“You gonna force your favorite cousin to starve?”
“You’re an asshole.”
“I’ll take that,” I answered, grabbing a clean plate, this time without being assaulted. An asshole was far from the worst thing Calli had ever called me. Though, the way her shoulders sagged and a smile finally formed reminded me that it was all in love. “Now, can I eat? I’m fucking starved.”
She pointed the pretty pink spatula at me. “You’re late again next week, and I’m feeding your share to the dog next door.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She’d say the same thing again next week when I was late.
And the week after that too.
Sunday lunch had been a thing since well before Bishop, my uncle and Exiled Eight MC President, showed up at The Valley and rescued me.
Bishop’s Old Lady, Lucy, had been doing it since the two of them had what Bishop thought was a one-night stand twenty years ago, only to find her feeding his brothers the next morning. He always said when it came to women, and you knew she was it, you fucking knew.
And he never let her leave.
At least, not willingly.
A heart defect she’d had since she was a baby eventually caught up with her, and ten years ago, it finally gave in.
I watched Bishop almost give in too.
If it hadn’t been for Calliope, he just might have. The kid was only seven when she watched her mom die. We buried Lucy on a Sunday morning, and Calli was in the kitchen that same day, continuing the legacy her mom left behind.
“Where’s your dad?”
Calli pulled another tray of cookies from the oven, placing them on the counter. “He’s out the back. There are some guys out there I haven’t met before,” she answered, now far more focused on the feast she was preparing, though it didn’t stop the visible shudder that moved down her spine. “The big one creeps me out.”
I paused with my plate full, a deep frown knotting my brow.
Calliope grew up with a group of the hardest, scariest fucking men around. It took a hell of a lot to rattle her.
My brothers were scattered through the house, some out front eating on the porch and others in the dining room down the hall. I grabbed a beer from the fridge before heading out through the living room and down the hallway to the back door, the chorus of unfamiliar laughter leading me.
Several sets of eyes looked up as the screen door slammed shut behind me, and there was silence for a second before Bishop waved me over. “I was wondering when you’d fucking get here.”
I eyed the other guys at the table as I slipped onto the end of the long bench. “I wanted to get some shit finished before I left the construction guys to it.”
“Bishop was saying you’re a bit behind,” the largest guy announced, looking at me like we were good friends. “You want some great work done? I’ve got a cousin who can do it in half the time for half the price.”
“And I’ve got a cousin who can swallow a whole banana without gagging, but I don’t get him to suck my di—”
“Hawk, this is Robert,” Bishop interrupted me casually, gesturing to the largest of the men with a fork loaded with mashed potato. “He and his boys are going to be doing security at the bar when we open. Robert, this is Hawk, my VP and nephew.”
He thrust his hand across the table as if I would take it and welcome him to the family with a pat on the back and a high-five. Instead, I looked at it for a second before turning my attention to my food.
It took him a few seconds, but eventually, he withdrew his handshake offer and played it off with a laugh. “When you’re hungry, you’re hungry, right?”
I filled my stomach, listening to the bastard rattle on for another ten minutes about the people he knew, the skills he had, and how fucking lucky we were to have him. I kept eyeing Bishop out of the corner of my eye. For a man who didn’t put up with any bullshit, he was surprisingly okay with this loud-mouth asshole and his tall tales.
“I’ve got shit to do,” Bishop finally announced when Calli stepped outside. If you were a man and not a part of the club, you weren’t allowed within ten feet of Bishop’s baby girl. “I’ll get the club lawyer to write up some contracts, and you can come in and sign them next week.”
Robert grinned across the table at us, his round face lighting up. “Sounds fucking great,” he responded, thrusting his hand across the table again. Bishop shook it, and the men both got to their feet. “I think this will be the start of a great working relationship.”
I sat back in my seat, refusing to get up and acknowledge him with more than a narrowed glare.
“I’m sure it will be,” Bishop answered with a nod, looking up at Robert. The first time I’d seen him ever look up at anyone. At six foot two with a body like a linebacker, Bishop wasn’t a tiny man. Robert, though, dwarfed him by about six inches and two hundred pounds. Hence, the reason he and his team had just been offered the job of security for The Exiled Eight’s new sports bar. “I’ll get someone to call you when the contracts are ready.”
“I’ll see you both real soon,” Robert responded, his gaze turning to me. “Hawk.”
I offered him a sharp nod.
That was all he was getting, much to Bishop’s amusement, my president falling into his seat with a smirk as Robert waddled back through the house.