Waking the Dragon: Royal Bastards MC: Cedar Creek, Tx, #3

By Liberty Parker

Dragon is on a mission, one with lives at stake and one he's taken on with the intention to bring down an organization of wannabe bible thumper's who should've been decimated and disassembled years ago. But as always, the government's turned a blind eye to their devious activity, so it's up to him to get the job done. Usually, he can keep his emotions in check when he takes on tasks such as this, but this is connected to one of his own, and he will eliminate his brother's demons and make sure he lives the rest of his days without looking over his shoulder.

 

Laney was sold by her father and then was traded like merchandise by that man. Now she's under the ruling of a cult, they own her in a way no woman should ever be. She's been given the role of caretaker for the children, she protects them the best she can, but even her best isn't always good enough. Now the tides have changed and they've given her a new assignment, one that makes her sick to her stomach, but if she fights or refuses, they'll eliminate her, then who will watch over the welfare of the kids?

 

Both of them are determined to release the horde of unwilling captives whether or not they themselves make it out alive. Will they be successful, or will all of their sacrifices be for nothing?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Liberty Parker
• Release date: Oct 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223086376

Liberty Parker

I have been an avid reader for most of my life. When I was younger I use to sit and fill spiral notebooks full of stories for my grandmother. As I got older I took the jobs needed for raising my boys as a single mom until I met my now amazing husband. I have stopped working in the last three years and started promoting authors, then I blogged and reviewed for authors, which lead me down the path to writing and creating characters and stories. I love creating behind the scenes with my writing getting to use my imagination and write the story as it comes to me. My youngest is now a senior in High School leaving me with some spare time on my hands to be filled. I am loving the people I am meeting and the support system I have found. You can find me at my home Facebook page here: https://www.facebook.com/authorlibertypaker or you can like my Author page at: https://www.facebook.com/authorlibertyparker?ref=profile or join my Lady Outlaws at:https://www.facebook.com/groups/LibertysLadyOutlaws/

Book preview

Dragon

This fucking place reeks worse than Amarillo’s damn landfill we passed coming in, and those damn places usually have me fighting the urge to expel the contents of my belly, while my eyes copiously water, so that’s saying a lot about the stench coating the walls here.

They identify their assemblage as The Fundamentalists of the Communion. They’re a cosmic joke, and not a laughing, side-splitting punchline kind of one either.

In my mind, I refer to them as the zealots of the devil. They pounded in Wrecker’s head that he was the one who’d invoked and manifested the devil, giving him an open invitation to live inside him. They halfway had him convinced that he’d willfully sold Lucifer his soul—even though he didn’t recall doing it, which is how he maintained his perspective, and didn’t buy into their load of bullshit.

But to me, with everything I’ve learned about the fascist crazies, and their radical cause from Wrecker, Selah, Gabriel, and their dad, Ezekiel, The Fundamentalists Assholes are the ones who’ve surrendered their beings to malevolency and have called Lucifer forth to master their consciences and moderate their ideologies.

They’re the ones who need to be purged.

From what Ezekiel explained when I held my wrist under my nose to drown out the odor as he led me through the buildings labyrinth of hallways, the living spaces for the guards and staff are kept in pristine condition, but the cramped areas the kids and women are stuffed into like sardines lying on top of each other in a tin can are atrocious, to say the least.

Even walking down the corridor you can smell the famine.

The distinctive odor of urine, feces, vomit, and affliction leaks under the gaps of the door jambs. Once you’ve smelled the scent of desperation, abuse, sorrow, and an unhygienic as well as an untidy environment, you can never forget it. It’s stuck in your nasal cavity.

Mentally, I make a note to schedule an appointment with Saber when I make it home to get my tetanus shot updated, have him check for any parasites that may be alive and actively flowing through my bloodstream, maybe even get some addition blood work drawn to run a panel of test so he can double-check to make sure I haven’t picked up any foreign or lab-made diseases, this place makes me think of those sanatoriums from back in the day that housed those infected by the bubonic plague when it was running rampant and they needed them confined and away from the general public… the accommodations here are that lousy and downright scary.

The last few days, I’ve been shrunk by a panel of psychopaths. It’s a damn good thing I’ve been around Wrecker all of these years and have heard indepth stories about the backward thinking of these fundamentalist assholes.

These dirtbags are on borrowed time, I intend to exile this group of dumbasses from earth. In death, they’ll face a panel of deities and answer for their detestable sins. Hopefully, they’ll end up roasting in Hell where they’ll be tortured day and night for eternity. The pestilent group of men and women will stand trial where their charges will be bigotry, murder, and other hideous acts of treason.

Harper gave me tips, and advice before I left about the best ways to conduct myself. I’m damn happy I paid close attention to her instructions instead of dismissing her completely and getting lost in my own way of doing things because what she told me has already helped and will continue to do so until I am fortunate enough to leave this fucked-up place.

I have the ability to go inside of these fuckers’ minds, twist things to my liking, make them bend at the knees, and force their will. I’ll do so if the need arises, but it always leaves me with debilitating migraines and a feeling of utter disgust that soap suds never seem to wash away.

Especially, when you trek into the mindset of sociopaths and flex their warped minds. We may be a group of hardass bikers, but there are some lines even we’ll never cross regardless of what the general public may think.

There are some things I could go a lifetime without an up-close and personal preview of. The actions of these asshats are on the top five of my ‘categories to avoid’ list like the bubonic plague.

But sometimes we have to do things we don’t wanna do and that’s the position I find myself in right now. There are instances when being the president, the man at the top, is hard, and this is one of them. But I’ll do anything for my brothers, so if I have to swim in filth to help destroy this noxious commune, then that’s what I’ll do. It’s ingrained in us to stand up for each other, and as the man in charge of my band of misfits, I take the meaning of that to heart.

For example, I don’t trust Wrecker’s father. Not one single bit. He may have others fooled, but I’m not that easily duped. That lack of trust in this jerk is the reason I volunteered myself as tribute to be his partner in this escapade. I can keep an eye on him while rescuing women, men, and children, while figuring out if he’s the man he’s claiming to be, or if he’s still the one who raised Wrecker and his siblings. I suspect it’s the latter myself, but time will tell the tale.

Selah’s become special to Butcher, which means she’s important to me. Neither of them are admitting they care, and it’s none of my business. I’m not sure if they have a future or not, they both have some shit to get through before that decision can be made. She’s damaged and he’s tattered.

But if anyone deserves to find any semblance of peace, it’s them.

I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure they get that chance to choose and live a better life.

I’ll welcome my enemies into my den. But just because they enter, that doesn’t mean they’ll leave still drawing breath.

I’m the monster parents warn their children about.

I’m the thing nightmares are made of.

I’m the beast under your bed, I’m in your closet, and in your head as the song goes.

And it’s unfortunate for them that they’ve awoken my abominable dragon because I’m your worst fear come to life. I’ll find what makes you panic, and I’ll trap you inside that mind-warped paradigm, while compelling you to face your phobias day in and day out.

Mindfucks are my specialty, and I’m good at what I do, as they’ll soon find out, once I get the lay of the land. Because their day of reckoning is right around the corner, and I’m the man leading the brigade.

If it’s war they wanted, it’s war they’ll get.

Laney

Laney. An ominous, male voice wispily says my name, as he invades my enchanting dreams. The urgency from his tone tugs me away from the sandy path I was walking on, and pulls me through a cosmic portal, and guides me through a darkened veil that only exists in my subliminal mind.

I was visiting my favorite place in the cosmos, the one place that solely belongs to me—a vacant beach with no unwanted interruptions. An empty paradise that exists only in my dream-filled sleep. It’s an escape world where there are no people following me, telling me what to do, and watching my every move while criticizing me for not doing it their way, or taunting me with threats of harming others if I don’t toe the line, and follow their every command.

Who’s there? I ask as my feet breach the clouded atmosphere. On this plane’s spiritual level, the one who calls and pulls you to it is the one who controls the visual landscape. I can’t see you. Show yourself.

Through the misty smoke a man I don’t recognize steps out of the shadows. As soon as he makes himself known, our surroundings brighten, making it easier on my eyes to see him.

I don’t know you. How did you call me to you? I ask, examining him from head to toe. Is this another evil-minded villain that I need to watch out for? Or is he an ally that could help me and the other trapped people with me find freedom?

I’m here to help, the man says, slowly lifting his hands in a non-threatening way, palms flat and canted upward in the universal ‘calm down’ sign, facing me.

That doesn’t answer my question, I snarkily state, peering at him through slanted eyes.

My name is Wrecker, he conveys, and like I said, I’m here to help.

Why? I probe, peculiarly weary of strangers. In my experience, the devil you know is better to deal with than the one you don’t.

Because you’re important to Harper, and anyone that’s essential to her happiness, is emphatically and unequivocally important to me. A choked gasp escapes when he uses my sister’s name as a reference.

I stare at this strange man, Wrecker, with distrustful suspicion. My face contorts into a sketchy expression, which is lasciviously aimed at him. Thoughts plague me as I wonder why his tone lifted when he spoke her name, curious about how he knows Harper fondly enough to attribute her name with romantic intimacy. My mind conjures reasons for all types of ruthless scenarios, none of them create radiant images of vibrant rainbows or dancing unicorns. With a building tornado full of mixed emotions, I continue to push him for further answers as I ponder how he met my baby sister.

And why is it that Harper’s important to you, Mr. Wrecker?

Because she’s everything, he remarks, a sheen of admiration lingering in his eyes after he claims this. She saved me after I rescued her from y’all’s father. That catches my attention—our dad’s an abhorrent man. Since the day he bartered me like an auctioneer to the highest paying customer, I’ve prayed that Harper would manage to find a way to get away from him, and live a happy, wholesome life. I’m a member of the Royal Bastards Motorcycle Club, Laney. Your father owed us a monumental amount of money and offered Harper up as trade. We led him to believe we’d take her in exchange for clearing his debt, and instead, we freed her and brought her to our clubhouse.

And what? Y’all fell in looovvveee? I snort drawing the word out, no longer a believer that that emotion authentically exists. It’s something lovers tell the other so they are welcomed back into the other’s bed. It’s not real and pathetic in my estimation. Why lie? I’d rather hear the truth about how phenomenal I am in the sack than be shoveled a line of shit.

That’s exactly what we did. Don’t mock it, because it’s rare for me, and is the most extraordinary thing that’s ever happened to me. These kids you protect on a daily basis, I was once one of them. So, before you insult our feelings or lash out with your ridicule, let that detail sink in. Only then, you’ll understand why I say loving and being loved by another has been a foreign concept in my life. We’re in it for the long haul, Laney, it’s eternal so you need to accept it, and stop with your smug barbs. I’m going to put this out there now, I won’t let you hurt Harper with you haughty sniveling. Your sister is mine to protect from everybody who can hurt her, even if that hurt comes from me or you. No one will ever cause her pain again as long as I draw breath in my body. That’s not just a statement, it’s a vow and once you get to know me, you’ll learn I never break those.

Those are pretty words, Wrecker, but can you back them up?

Every fucking minute of the day, Laney, seven days a week. And then, he shows me. A plethora of memories speed through my mind… none of them my own. I get a head rush as we fast track through the past, jumping from one scene to the next in a crescendo length of time.

How can you help me? I ask, changing the topic so I can internalize later, when I’m alone with my internal thoughts, how I feel about his statements, warnings, and the visual scrapbook of his and my sister’s life.

I’m going to share our plan with you, Laney. But then, you’ll forget until it’s time for you to remember.

Why? I don’t want to forget, Wrecker.

Because your turmoil’s and reactions need to be one-hundred percent authentic, Laney. I’m sorry, but it’s the only way.

Laney

Get up, girl. Get off your lazy ass, get bathed, spritz some of that gutter smelling shit you call perfume on, and dress in your hostess fineries. You’ve been specially chosen to open your legs and give a grand welcoming to our newest protégé, Driva, my cunt of a supervisor states, with giddiness sliding off her tongue.

Her smile is outside of sweetness, it’s fiendish, and arrogant. There's no sugar or spice, and definitely nothing nice laced in her malicious tone. She’s as mean and vicious as a rattlesnake in the desert protecting its land against trespassers. Striking often and hard is her mantra, and the best thing I know to do is to appear compliant to avoid her venomous spew.

The men she works under are no better.

Driva enjoys inflicting pain on those she considers as being beneath her. I can’t wait for the day to arrive when she faces death. Ain’t no way those golden gates are going to open for her slithery self, she’ll face eternity in the fiery depths of Hell. And I hope I’m there to watch the reapers reap her soul and celebrate in triumph as Lucifer’s hellhounds drag her underneath the surface that houses living beings, tossing her into an incendiary hovel where she’ll compete with all the other tortured, corrupt, and impious souls for survival.

I’m sorry, what? I ask, unsure if I’ve heard what she’s said correctly, seeing as I was fantasizing about her trauma-filled screams and endless fighting with other prisoners to prolong her turn to go before the devil’s torturers where they’d force feed her the flesh that's been fileted from her skin—one painstaking layer at a time. Like peeling an onion, I internally muse.

You heard me. She slyly grins, delighting in the authority she has. Your station has changed… for now, we’ll see what comes of this. The doctor says you’re fertile, and we’ve decided to give you a trial run, a promotion of sorts, where we’ll experiment and see how you cope as one of our breeders. The way she nonchalantly tells me this shows how truly evil she is.

My jaw drops open, I’m flabbergasted. I’ve been in charge of the welfare of the children since the day I was ‘exchanged’ like merchandise who’s outlived its discard date, and is no longer worth keeping around from my last master to this barbaric society. They trade and swap human beings like one does their shoes. If a size, shape, and color no longer work, they’re discarded and a new set takes their places.

It’s both disgraceful and loathsome.

Irritated and feeling bold, I spit out, One day, Driva, I’m going to dance on your grave. Expecting some form of backlash for overstepping, I tread backward, nearly tripping over my