Fanatic (Hellfire MC: The Prospects #1)

Prologue.

April 2023

T he day was dark and overcast; a storm was brewing, and rain already pounded against the window. A perfect day for a funeral, I thought as I stared outside.

I could see the hearse pulling up with his name in flowers—Grey—at the side of his coffin, and on top lay my wreath of white roses. The opposite side of the coffin held a floral arrangement spelling ‘Fiancé.’ It should have said husband… it shouldn’t be there at all.

A hand gently touched my arm, and I turned and noticed Ellen standing with tears in her eyes. I wondered what she saw when she looked at me. I felt empty; did I seem empty?

I wore a black dress, tights and heels. My hair was in a bun. I’d made an effort, I’d do Grey proud.

Ellen said something, but I didn’t hear as I stared out of the window at the multitude of bikes outside. In front of everyone, straddling Grey’s bike, was Dad. He had to be in physical pain, but he was going to ride Grey’s Harley, irrelevant of the agony it caused him. That was my dad; he’d do his duty in spite of everything. A single rider rode at either side of the coffin. My brothers, Wild and Cowboy.

Behind them was the inner circle. They surrounded Grey’s special motorbike hearse and would escort Grey to the church and then the Rage MC cemetery. Yeah, it seemed Rage had their own graveyard. Who the fuck knew?

A limo waited near Grey’s coffin to carry me and a few others. Behind us fell the rest of Rage, their old ladies seated and wrapped around their men. No doubt, all thankful they still had their man.

Lucky them.

Following them came limos carrying the older children, those who weren’t riding with Rage. Hellfire waited, too. Our brother club grieved as much as the rest of us.

Other clubs arrived, Satan’s Scythes, Unfallen Warriors, the MCs rode for my man. My fiancé who died because he saved his president.

Three bikers turned up, and I nearly lost control. Inglorious. Razor. Chill.

Despite the mass funerals they’d been holding, they still come for Grey. Talk about respect and loyalty.

A lone biker rode up and caught my attention, and a small smile tore from me. This man. He would ride by Dad, and he had the right to, as he’d become brother and best friend to Grey. We’d spent many nights in the backyard laughing and joking with him. I’d demanded he lead the procession with Dad and nobody had argued.

Fanatic’s face was set in stone. He glanced at Dad and reached out to squeeze his shoulder.

Dad nodded, dismounted, and headed towards the clubhouse where I stood. The funeral was leaving from here. Rage had escorted Grey to the clubhouse one last time an hour ago, and we’d all had a chance to say goodbye in private.

I turned and saw Dad standing there, his heart ripped out, the same as me. He’d loved Grey too; a few short years was all we’d get, and it would have to last us a lifetime, those precious memories.

Dad held his arm out, and I raised my head. I’d do my man proud.

We stepped outside as the rain broke and the sun came out. Was that Grey smiling at me? Did my fiancé send me a sign to be brave?

I took Dad’s arm as he led me to the limo where Ellen, Jodie, Serenity, Rosie, and Phoe all waited. They couldn’t ride for various reasons. Rosie, Ellen and Phoe because Dad, Drake and Calamity weren’t steady enough, although they insisted on riding today.

Jodie and Serenity chose to support me by not riding their bikes and being in the limo with me. Something I was grateful for, was the inner circle of the old ladies and my family, with their help, I’d do Grey proud.

Head held high, I walked to the limo and climbed in. I saw several of my colleagues waiting, looking a little bewildered at the mass of people, but I didn’t care.

I couldn’t breathe. I was burying the love of my life.

A calm hand landed on my shoulder, and Aunt Phoe gazed at me.

Aunt Phoe’s eyes held pain, and she was barely holding it together herself. She’d aged, I noticed. We all had. I took a deep breath, then another. The old ladies’ collapse would follow mine if I succumbed to grief. My agony would overwhelm them, and Grey would tell me off for it.

No, Grey needed me to be strong, to be his living memory, and I would.

Dad and Fanatic pulled out with a piper walking in front of them. Bagpipes faintly drifted back, and I opened my window to hear them. Grey would have loved them.

Dad and Fanatic walked their bikes forward as Wild and Cowboy fell into place, escorting the hearse.

Klutz, Gauntlet, Savage, and Harley rode beside me; escorting a fallen brother’s old lady. It didn’t matter he’d not married me; Grey had claimed me. As my limo pulled out, hundreds of bike pipes roared, the noise deafening as bikers started their engines and moved into formation. Howser had closed our route, so we’d have it easy to the church.

As we passed HQ, I choked when I saw the street jammed with Phoe’s staff. It looked like every single one of them was present. I spotted other familiar faces, the Reading Nook, Made by Rage, Amber’s ranch… they were all there.

Everyone who Grey had touched. Some of Phoe’s staff headed towards vehicles dressed in black and joined the procession after the bikers. Fuck, my man had been loved, respected, and admired. Grey had become the face of the war. A former Fed who’d stood up and was counted on when times were dark.

Our love story was out there. How he’d been forced from the Bureau and left to give me my career. People spoke like they knew him. They hadn’t. But they did now, as renowned as he’d become. Just as famous as Unwanted Bastards, who’d been decimated. The war had created national heroes. What the news reports didn’t understand was they had already been heroes.

The journey to the church wasn’t long, but it took an hour as we passed through the streets. Strangers lined them, watching solemnly as the MCs mourned yet another fallen brother.

People threw flowers on the road, and that’s when the first tear escaped. I wiped it away and continued to stare. When we arrived at the church, I saw a huge flatscreen set up and cameras with microphones.

“It’s not big enough for everyone, the service will be played here, too,” Phoe whispered as I left the car. That was a common occurrence at recent funerals.

The allies attended every funeral. If they could walk or ride, they were present. There’d been a few exceptions: Drake, Calamity, Adam, for example. Those who’d had life-threatening injuries.

I nodded and headed to the top of the steps as the inner circle hefted Grey’s coffin on their shoulders.

“No one enters until I say so,” I ordered the rest of Rage, and confused, they nodded.

Grieving, I turned on my heel and took my place at the front of the coffin and led my man down the aisle. Dad’s pride hit my shoulders, but I kept Grey’s honour. I stepped to the side and allowed the inner circle to lay Grey on the altar.

They each said their personal goodbye and then walked back to the entrance. I turned to Dad and Fanatic, who handed me one of Grey’s cuts: Prospect of Rage MC. He’d never get brother, and posthumously awarding it meant nothing.

Grey had been a prospect. He shouldn’t have been there. But the hero inside him, the loyal man, the guy who couldn’t stand injustice, had chosen to fight. Drake had accepted his decision instead of forcing him away. That was on Drake’s head. But Grey’s skills as a former Fed would have been invaluable. That shit, though, didn’t bring Grey back.

Rigidly, I took the cut and placed it over his coffin. Grey wore one inside, I’d made certain of that.

For a moment, I was tempted to rip the coffin open and breathe life into him. A wild pain rose, and I nearly screamed. How could I live without him? I needed him, his sexy smile, his stupid jokes, and his laughter. Grey had been stolen from me, and I yearned to rage at the world and tear it down.

I clenched my fist against my chest as Dad wrapped me up tight. Fanatic came close and sandwiched me in. I clung to them both, struggling to control my grief. Huge, staggered gasps left me as I nearly collapsed.

Why Grey? Oh, I knew why. But I still asked the question. Grey had risked his life, and I lost him. An image of Serenity’s hand rose in my mind; oh yeah, it had all been filmed, and I’d seen it.

That tiny hand massaging Grey’s heart and keeping him alive. Only to lose him a day later in hospital. Calamity had come damn close to dying, as had Drake, but they pulled through by some sort of miracle. Not my Grey.

Fanatic stepped back and held another cut out to me. I shrugged it on over my dress. Grey’s old lady, it stated loudly and proudly, and I was. With one last lingering look, I kissed his cut and coffin and walked down the aisle to the doors.

“Now they may come in,” I declared. “Keep a space for me, Dad.”

Dad nodded, realising what I planned, and then helped Ellen down the aisle. Each brother, old lady, and Hellion who walked up the steps stopped and placed their hands in my open ones. Words weren’t required. The squeeze of hands said everything.

Once Rage was inside and seated, Hellfire took their place, one by one, entering the church.

Beside me stood Fanatic, his pain tangible. I shrugged Fanatic’s away. I’d my own agony and couldn’t deal with his.

Chance led Hellfire MC in.

Dylan Hawthorne, and his men followed. Dylan’s eyes were full of grief, like mine. He, too, had lost men. Ramirez and Ben, with Nando and Bobby Lucas came, grieving for their fallen colleagues too.

Master Hoshi, Akemi, the Juno group. James Washington and the Delta Group.

Friends, family, and the presidents of the allied clubs all passed me by. Inglorious stopped by me and held my gaze. Out of everyone, Inglorious understood my agony, it was matched by his own. Inglorious reached out and took my hands, and drew me into a hug.

I don’t know how long I stood there, but I felt stronger for it.

Inglorious kissed my forehead and squeezed me tightly before he, Razor, and Chill continued into the church. Even with his own searing agony, Inglorious still put others first. MC officers approached and touched my hands and took their places on the lawns alongside other guests.

Finally, I had touched and received respect from everyone who attended my man’s funeral. I’d given them respect and thanks back. I turned on my heel and entered the church. Hundreds had turned up. Possibly over a thousand, to say goodbye to a hero who was a stranger to most.

I stopped, took a deep breath, and began a solitary walk down the aisle that Dad should have been walking me down as a bride. Instead, I walked down as a widow.

On the front row sat Uncle Drake and Aunt Phoe, Dad and Ellen, Wild and Cowboy; Fanatic stood waiting.

There was a space for me, and before taking it, I knelt in front of the coffin and repeated my vows I’d have given as a bride. Then, I rose with dignity and took my seat. Today no one would see me break, not now.