Chapter Twenty-Three
Werewolf
The hallway to the church felt longer than it ever had, each step loud against the old boards, and every sound behind us muffled by the bass thumping through the main bar. Smoke from the bonfire drifted in through the open door, carrying that sharp mix of pine and diesel.
Demi walked half a step behind me, and her fingers brushed the back of my hand to help ground me.
Tremor’s voice rumbled through the cracked door at the end of the hall. Mac and Coup were in there with him; I could hear Mac’s low responses, Coup’s short answers. Prez said nothing, which meant he was listening.
I pushed the door open.
The room fell silent.
Every man in there looked up. The overhead light buzzed and flickered once before settling. Tremor stood beside the table with his hands on a folded map. His grin spread slowly.
“Was wondering when you’d wander in, brother.”
“You knew I was coming for you,” I said.
Mac shifted in his chair. “Wolf—”
“No,” I said. “It’s time.”
We stepped in far enough for the door to shut behind us. Demi stayed in the doorway, pale but steady.
Tremor leaned on the table. “You got something to say, say it.”
“You killed Tyler. You did it for yourself, not for the patch.”
Mac’s jaw clenched. Coup’s pen froze halfway through a number. Even Prez looked up.
“The kid was a threat,” Prez said.
I shook my head. “He wasn’t a fucking threat. He was an innocent who didn’t deserve to die. Tremor didn’t even give him a chance to speak, let alone explain.”
Tremor chuckled. “Since when do we let rats run their mouths?”
“He wasn’t a rat!” Demi screamed. “He didn’t want to die!”
Mac looked sick. Coup wouldn’t lift his eyes.
Tremor’s grin didn’t falter. “The kid was a rat. Everyone here knows it.” He pointed at Demi.
“And your fat ass shouldn’t even be in here.
This whole club is going fucking crazy worrying about a rat and letting women into church.
Nobody cared about the kid before she got here.
Fuck her and fuck you, Werewolf. You’re a pussy-whipped punk. ”
“No,” I said. “Everyone here just decided not to care about the kid, and you’re the one who is a punk.”
He moved around the table. “You care now because of her. You didn’t before.” He nodded toward Demi. “That’s your mistake, pussy-whipped bitch.”
“Maybe,” I said, “but at least I still know what’s right.”
He stopped a foot away. “You planning to take me out in front of your family is the right thing?”
“This isn’t my family anymore.” I glanced at Demi. “She’s the only family I have now. You and this club can get fucked.”
Tremor’s grin was all venom. His hand twitched toward the knife on his belt. “Then allow me to take you out in front of your bitch.”
“Don’t!” Mac barked, but Tremor was already moving, too fast for me to grab my own knife. He lunged fast and with pure fury.
I caught his wrist, but the blade grazed my arm before we slammed into the wall hard enough to shake the frames. Demi screamed my name, and the world went narrow and red.
He drove an elbow into my ribs. I shoved him off and slammed him against the table.
Wood cracked. Papers scattered. Coup bolted with his laptop clutched tight. Mac froze between us and the door, useless.
Tremor swung again. His fist split my lip, but I hit back once… twice… until his knife hand slipped.
The blade clattered across the floor and came to a spinning stop by Demi’s boot.
We both saw it.
Tremor’s smile was blood and hate. “First one to the knife wins, brother.”
He lunged for the knife, and before I could move, a gunshot split the air.
Tremor jerked mid-stride with a look of shock flickering across his face before his knees gave out.
He hit the ground hard, and blood seeped under him. His hand twitched once before it went still.
Smoke curled from the barrel in Prez’s grip.
No one spoke. Even the clock on the wall seemed to stop ticking.
Prez stepped forward, gaze flat and cold. “I warned you,” he said to the corpse. Then he looked at me. “We were all sick of the shit this fucker was doing.”
I stared at the gun in Prez’s hand. He ended it.
He holstered it slowly. “I am not fucking around anymore.” He looked at Mac. “Get a couple of prospects in here to clean this up.”
Mac nodded, “I’m fucking on it.”
“You two can get out of here and lay low for a bit,” Prez told me.
I shook my head. “I’m done,” I said. I unfastened my cut, folded it once, and set it on the table. My hands shook. Not from fear, but from the hollow left behind.
Prez studied me. “You walk out that door without your cut, you don’t walk back in.”
“I know.” Hell, I fucking knew it. This club had been my life for years, and I was ready to walk away from it. Even with Tremor dead, I wanted out.
“You sure that’s what you want?”
I looked at Demi. She was alive and scared, but she was mine. “It’s what I need.”
Prez gave one curt nod. “Then get the fuck out. Amnesia better hit you once you get on your bike.”
I moved to Demi, and she clung to my arm.
“Thanks for everything, Prez,” I said. Sure, the end with the club had been shit, but there had been a lot of good years. Years I wouldn’t trade because without them I never would have found Demi.
Prez grunted. “Yeah, yeah,” he grunted. “Hopefully someday down the road I’ll see ya, Wolf. You are one of the good ones.”
I nodded, thankful for the fact I was able to leave without being tossed off a cliff.
I pulled Demi down the hallway, through the bar, and out the front door.
Once outside, the music still pounded from the bar, and the crowd still laughed and partied around the fire. No one out here knew yet that the world had shifted.
Demi squeezed my hand. “It’s over?”
“Yeah.”
We walked past the rows of bikes, and for the first time in years, I felt light enough to breathe.
Demi squeezed my hand. “Where do we go?”
“Anywhere that isn’t here.” The Sons were my past, and Demi was my future.
We climbed onto the bike. I kicked the engine alive and rolled out through the gate for the last time.