Chapter 46
Road
I swallow and open my drying mouth to speak. My friend of fifteen years wouldn’t possibly off me on a vote… would he? I step in front of Clyde regardless.
“He had nothing to do with it,” I say even though Clyde had everything to do with my actions in the past few months.
Prophet shakes his head and opens the cell. “I don’t have time for this drama. We’re fucking surrounded and realized too late. If you two don’t prove yourself tonight, we might all be dead by the end of this night.” He pushes the machine gun into my hands while I’m still processing what he’s said, and a sense of peace sets in immediately.
If this is not a false alarm, and armed men have snuck into Vulture Hollow, we’re still in danger. But it’s a danger as familiar as breathing. This, I know how to deal with, and I’ll prove to Prophet and my entire club that despite all the bullshit I threw at them lately, I am still loyal.
“What about Clyde?” I ask, now actually hearing the muted noise of the shootout happening somewhere above. We did a decent job on the soundproofing of the cellar.
Prophet eyes him, then pulls out a handgun and passes it to Clyde. “Don’t make me regret this. We need all hands on deck. Show me you’re not loyal to those bastards anymore.”
Clyde nods and checks the ammo in the gun. “I will. They showed me they’re not my family. ”
Maybe this is not the time or place for it, but I’m overcome by an itch deep at the pit of my stomach, and it only eases when I squeeze Clyde’s shoulder. It’s a brief touch, but it’s firm, reassuring, and when our gazes meet, we both know he has a new family now.
“Don’t die.”
Clyde smirks and shoves me with his shoulder to follow Prophet first. I love that attitude in him.
Prophet slips, but Clyde grabs his arm, saving him from a fall. “The fuck?” he mutters, looking at the floor, and I can only hope he doesn’t realize cum is what almost made him fall over.
I ignore the stain and run up the stairs first. The machine gun is loaded, so in case our enemies infiltrated the clubhouse already, I’ll greet them with a long series of surprises straight from its muzzle. There’s no time to ask Prophet what the exact situation is and whether the civilians are safe at least.
The hidden door slams open, and it’s as if the air changed its consistency around me, growing dense and heavy with noise. Some of the guys are throwing us expectant looks eying Clyde as if he’s a grenade about to explode in their faces, but most of them are rushing outside, so we follow.
I spot many of our civilians running toward the entrance to the caves right behind the clubhouse, but it’s mostly women and children. The stream of people is a blur, yet I do notice many of them watching me as if I’m the danger. I have no doubt I look menacing with Isaac’s blood on me and the machine gun in my hands. I’ll protect them anyway.
The wire fence around the clubhouse allows us to see the swarm of motorcycles and their riders, many of them in helmets covering their faces. They’re like hornets chasing the man who kicked their nest, held back by a curtain. Their stings, just like their bullets, might still kill.
“It’s both chapters,” Clyde says to me and Prophet, who scowls, taking shelter behind the low wall around the porch. It’s made of concrete and looks like an ugly prosthetic on the old wooden building originating in the times this place was a summer camp. While many of the brothers hate how it spoiled the exterior of the clubhouse, the decision to include something to hide behind in the unlikely event of a standoff will finally pay off. It’s only taken fifteen years.
“I thought half of them just have forgettable faces,” Prophet says as Clyde and I join him, peeking beyond the barrier, at the swarm gathered on the other side of the wire fence. Stark white lights high above illuminate the intruders, and while it’s good we can see them, they only seem more menacing because of it.
I’m not afraid of the Butchers, but that doesn’t mean I’m suicidal and would run at them with a gun drawn. Even if Grizzly deserves a bullet in the forehead. This is mine and Clyde’s chance to prove ourselves. If we nail this, the issue of Isaac will dissolve like a drop of ink in a lake, I’m sure of it.
I peek out to spot Grizzly waving at us, and I swear the golden fang glints right into my eye when he does his imitation of a smile. When he throws something the size of a football over our fence, I yell “duck!” and pull on Clyde’s arm, just in case, but he’s already going down.
I brace myself for impact, for the wave of noise resulting in my ears ringing, chaos, and the smell of TNT. While this is not the same situation I was in at the warehouse a year ago, my bones ache in anticipatory pain. I can barely hear the laughter and jeers coming from the other side of the fence.
But nothing happens, and as time ticks away, seconds slogging in comparison to my racing heart, I dare look past the barrier and still, frozen like the head staring at me with lifeless eyes. It’s so stiff its cheek doesn’t flatten despite resting on the asphalt.
I meet Clyde’s gaze. “Your treasurer.”
His face is paler than usual, but his eyes glow with sharp focus when he gets up. “You wanna tell me something, uncle?” Clyde yells.
I squeeze my gun harder, but I can’t keep Clyde in a cocoon of safety. He’s his own man as much as he is mine.
Grizzly spits to the ground. “This is what we do to traitors. Bracer worked with you, trying to undermine me, and here he is. Did you suck his dick too? We didn’t bring that part of him, I’m afraid.”
Clyde shakes his head. “You got your traitor, so fuck off.”
“Did we?” calls out someone from the other side. The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but most of the Butchers are the same to me, not worthy of memorizing details. Now Clyde on the other hand... he was a standout from the first time I laid eyes on him, and while we’re in mortal danger, hiding in front of our own clubhouse, I still find a split second to appreciate the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down his throat in profile. I swear he looks fucking regal .
“He did not betray you,” I shout back, because while every muscle in my body itches to power me all the way to Grizz, so I can slit his throat, we are at a disadvantage. “Told me nothing but what he likes in bed. Nothing here for you!”
A flush of color appears on Clyde’s neck and he spreads his arms with a smile I know is fake, because I’ve seen his real grin. “There you have it. Hate it all you want. I don’t give a shit. But I didn’t sell out any of you, even if I no longer wear the Butcher patches!”
“He shot Puck!” someone yells, and I recoil on the inside, because this is the crux they won’t let go of. And Clyde did that for me. He revealed himself as being on my side over his biker brother. That’s enough for the Butchers gathered to demand retribution.
“I won’t be talking about this to you, coward!” Grizzly says to Clyde and kicks the wire fence gate so hard it rattles. “Prophet! Give him up! Hand him over, and we’ll leave.”
Every tendon in my body turns to ice when I hear the absolute silence following that statement. My hand tightens on Clyde’s arm so hard he flinches, capturing my gaze with those incredible eyes. I try not to be too obvious about the way I monitor the behavior of my club, because I get it. While he’s under our protection, the guy was an enemy until very recently. Many of the Vultures have a personal grudge against him, most notably for that damn bomb he planted. Still, I call him mine, and if they betray him, it’s just as if they were betraying me. Creep lets out a sharp hiss, coiling his body, as if he’s struggling to restrain the aggression inside. Past him, Yeti and Rooster are eying us, their mouths open as if they were about to put forward an idea I wouldn’t like.
So I growl. It’s pure, primal, and communicates without words how I feel about even discussing this option.
They would kill Clyde, though most likely torture him first. Cut his hair, pluck out his pretty blue eyes, break his teeth, and burn the club tattoo off his back.
I won’t let that happen. I won’t.
Prophet gets up, and I swear, if he betrays me right now, I’m done no matter what Vulture Hollow has given me in the past.
“We do not give up our people, and Clyde Turner belongs to the Vultures now,” he says sternly, watching his opponent beyond the fence. He’s like the warrior king I need right now, and I could kiss his damn signet for this declaration.
“Damn right,” I shout, rising to my feet too, because if my prez is ready to stand with me, I will do the same for him. My flesh feels stiff, anticipating a quick bullet to rip through me. When it doesn’t happen as I face the Butchers gathered on the other side of the fence, my brothers stand too, ready to defend all that’s dear to me.
“He’s our people now,” Martin states, and the iciness melts from me despite the ongoing danger. This will be bloody, but I’m more than ready to risk my own life—and even that of others—if it means Clyde has a chance.
Grizzly raises his hand and urges someone forward with a gesture. “You sure about that? How about a swap then?”
My heart stops. A Butcher comes to Grizzly’s side with a woman in a black dress, and in the stark white lights, he reveals to us that he has Brigid.
This time, it’s Prophet whose arm I have to grab when he attempts to bolt over the cement wall. I need Harvey’s help from the other side to hold him back.
“You fucker! You shit-eating maggot! How dare you bring her into this?” Prophet yells with the fury of a thousand vengeful gods.
Grizzly laughs. “All’s fair in love and war.”
I can’t fucking breathe. Brigid is like a mother to Prophet. For many of us Vultures, she’s as close to a mother figure we ever had. Vulture Hollow is her land, and she gave it to us as our home. She might not wear our patches or vote, but she is the heart of our MC, and we can’t give her up. Even I can’t make that decision now, because Clyde is like air and water to me, but I also cannot doom the club for him. Those guys are my family. Brigid is my family. But so is Clyde, and it’s ripping me apart, as if the Butchers tied a rope to each of my limbs, attached them to their bikes and are now pulling.
There’s only one way to make it stop.
“I’ll go. You can have me!” I say, cutting through the jeers on the other side of the fence.