Chapter 16 Diesel
SIXTEEN
DIESEL
I clock every exit the moment I step into the room. There’s a sliding door on one side that leads into the garden, a second one that goes to the stairs and front door. Riot stands in front of one, then Blade joins us leaning against the wall near to the other.
My shoulders are drawn back like I’m preparing for impact as I sink into one of the chairs like I’m not fazed by this. Instead, I let my tongue touch the back of my teeth, tapping a rhythm that calms my nerves. Over and over. Tap, pause. Tap, pause. Tap, pause.
The room smells funny. The mix of old fabrics and patterned carpet is an assault on my senses. I hate everything about it, including the battered old dining table in the centre and the mismatched chairs pushed around it.
Mace and Riot drop into the chairs opposite me. Riot stares like he’s trying to decide where to stick his knife—in my chest or my throat.
I roll my neck, the tension cracking down my spine like lightning, and try to shake off the static buzzing in my brain. If he wants a fight, I’ll fucking give him one.
Prick.
Nicky sits at the head like he’s already claimed the throne. He’s also the calmest person in the room. The eye of this fucked up hurricane. Everyone else is dancing on a razor wire.
Blade and Riley are the last to come into the room. The kid’s gaze darts around, like he’s expecting someone to tell him to piss off any second now, but when no one says shit, he takes the chair furthest from Nic.
Blade isn’t so shy. He positions himself at Nic’s right hand, and next to me. I wish he’d chosen somewhere else to sit. I’m already under a microscope.
“I’m not sitting at this table with men who don’t trust me,” I say.
Riot’s jaw goes solid, his gaze sliding to me.
“Funny, coming from the guy who vanished into thin air when shit went to hell.”
I tilt my head slightly, my fingers twitching against my thighs, like I’m tapping morse code to calm my brain. I want to tell him to get fucked, but I don’t give him the ammunition he’s looking for. “I left before any of that went down.”
“Convenient,” Riot drawls in an infuriating tone that makes me want to punch him in the throat.
Keep tapping.
Keep focused.
Makenna is out there alone.
“You trust him and not me?” I jut my chin toward Blade.
I feel him shift in his seat, but I keep my eyes on Riot. “You got somethin’ to say to me, Diesel, or do you just like hearing the shit that comes out of your mouth?”
“I’ve got plenty to say,” I mutter.
Riot’s face twitches, like he’s trying to hold back the storm building inside him, but he keeps that lazy smile on his face.
The one he usually wears before he starts throwing punches.
“I don’t trust either of you, but I trust him more than you right now.
Blade took a fuckin’ bullet for his brothers while you were off playin’ house. ”
There’s no answer I can give to smooth that over, so I keep quiet.
“Enough,” Nic snaps. “I don’t care what issues you all have with each other, but if you’re sitting at this table, I need you focused on what’s coming, not fighting with each other.”
Blade grips the edge of the table, ignoring Nic, his nostrils flaring. “I’d really like to know what the fuck I’ve done to make all of you doubt me. You think I don’t see the looks? The suspicion?”
I watch his face carefully for something, anything. I’m good at reading people, feeling that shift in tone that happens when someone is lying or telling the truth, but this guy is a fucking vault. I can never tell what he’s thinking or doing.
Riot interlaces his fingers on the table.
“It’s because you’re shady as fuck, Blade.
You’re always where you shouldn’t be, always creeping around Crank like his little bitch.
Always got one hand in somethin’ dirty. But hey, at least you were there when it counted.
That keeps you breathin’.” His eyes slide to me.
A thousand accusations levelled in my direction. “For now.”
“Fuck you,” Blade snaps before I can respond. Blade cuts a look toward Mace that could slice through steel. “Dash was there too. So was Riley. You accusing them of being Crank’s bitch too?”
“They both earned their place at this table.” Riot’s smile is vicious. “Do you want to tell the group what the fuck deals you’re doing?”
He scowls. “Fuck me, you’re basing the entire idea that I’m dirty on some back handed handshake I’m doing?”
“Dirty is dirty. Doesn’t matter if it’s a handshake or an open handed slap.”
Blade scoffs, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, I did a few side deals on some jobs. That doesn’t make me a fuckin’ traitor.”
“There’s plenty of people wearin’ this patch that would disagree with you,” Mace says.
Tap, pause. Tap, pause. Tap, pause.
It’s not helping, not really, but I keep doing it because if I don’t, I’ll explode and my loyalty is already balancing on a knife’s edge.
“And yet you three were the ones sneaking around planning to dethrone a sitting president.” Blade scoffs. “You don’t think that’s a little… traitorous?”
“Crank’s a cunt.”
“He is,” Blade agrees with him, “but my point still stands, Riot. You’re lookin’ a little suspicious yourself right now.”
“I’ve earned my place at this table. You get points for bein’ here, for not runnin’ after Grub went full Terminator, but trust? That’s gotta be earned, brother.”
The laugh that bubbles out of Blade is sharp enough to cut through glass. “I waited to die in that parking garage at the hands of someone I once called ‘brother’. You don’t get to use that with me until you earn it. Not even to be a prick.”
“That’s the only reason you’re still breathin’.” Riot pauses then grins with no humour. “For now.”
“Fuck you,” he snarls. “If you’re callin’ me disloyal you’d best back that shit up.”
My fingers twitch on my thigh, itching to drag Riot over the table, but that won’t help my case. “Same,” I say. “If you think I’m working with Crank then say it. Quit dancing around it.”
“Are you?” This comes from Mace.
I drag my gaze from Riot to him. “No. But if I was, you wouldn’t know until I was ready to reveal it.”
“Comforting,” Riot mutters.
“I’m not here to hold your hand and make you feel better.”
“Then why are you here?”
I keep tapping my tongue behind my teeth, forcing the rest of my body to stay still. “Same fucking reason you are.”
“Oh, I highly doubt that.”
“All of you shut the fuck up.” Nic’s calm is evaporating. He looks like he’s debating dragging Riot over the fucking table.
Riot cuts his gaze to him. “No offence, but you ain’t prez yet, Nic, and this needs to be aired. I won’t go into battle with traitors at my back.”
Nic sits a little straighter in his seat.
“You want to sit at my table, in my clubhouse when this shit is done, then show some fuckin’ respect at this one.
I’ve vetted each of you so if you don’t trust them, you don’t trust me.
” He releases a heavy breath. “You don’t have to like each other.
I don’t even give a fuck if you never talk to each other, but this is my club now and if you don’t like how I’m running things, who I’m bringin’ in then fuckin’ walk.
Just know if you go, you don’t come back. ”
The silence is unbearable. I keep tapping, trying to calm the fuzz in my brain. No one moves. No one breathes.
“Great. Now that we’re all on the same page,” Nic continues. “Let’s talk about how we get our chapter back.”
“I guess walkin’ up to Crank and sticking a knife in his throat isn’t an option,” Riot mutters.
“Ravage wants to handle it a little more subtly.”
I blink. Wait—Ravage? If our national prez is behind this then it’s not just a coup. It’s a revolution.
“What about Dash?” Mace asks, frowning. “He ain’t gonna be fit enough to come with us.”
“He’s gonna hate that.” Riot leans back in his chair, glaring at me for second before giving Nic his attention. “He’s gonna want revenge for what happened in that parking garage.”
I stare at Nic, watching as he transforms into the role he was always meant to have.
He’s not Nicky, not anymore. He’s a general, leading his men into a battle.
The change in him isn’t subtle. It’s stamped on his bones.
He’s sitting taller, his shoulders squarer—like he’s already wearing the president patch.
“I wish we had him with us on this, but we can’t wait for him to heal. We gotta move forward without him. We can’t afford to wait.”
“You think Crank knows we’re comin’ for him?” Riot asks.
The room feels colder for a moment. The plans we’re making might have support from national and other chapters, but it’s still heavy. Unseating a president isn’t a small thing.
“Yeah,” Nic says. “He knows. The rats always know when the ship’s sinking.”
There’s a murmur of agreement around the table.
“Guess it’s time to dust off that fuckin’ name you hate so much, Nic,” Mace says, grinning.
Riot nods a little too enthusiastically. “Let’s see if you can really rise from the ashes, huh, Phoenix.”
I blink. Fuck. Phoenix… Nic’s real name. I haven’t heard anyone call him it in years, but it fits.
Rebirth. Fire. War.
“You’re a prick,” Nic mutters.
“Yeah, but I’m the one holding the matches.” He sits forward. “Let’s burn it all down and crawl out of the fuckin’ fire, Phoenix.”
“Or die trying,” Riley says, speaking for the first time since he took a seat.
Riot claps him on the back. “That’s the spirit, kid.
” He glances back to Nic. “What do you say, Prez? Want to cause a riot?” He wiggles his eyebrows like he’s not talking about dropping a nuke in the middle of our chapter.
This will be bloody, messy and we might all die trying to make Birmingham into what it should have always been.
“Yeah,” Nic says, his lips twitching into a smile. “I do.”
“Then let’s fuck shit up.”
I should be scared.
I’m not. I want this for me, for Makenna. Riot doesn’t trust me. Maybe no one in this room does, but it doesn’t matter.
I’m still a Son.
I still wear the patch.
And it’s time to fucking fight for it.