Chapter 7
Gabriella
Before
I could be at home right now. Not that home was any more interesting, but at the very least I could be in my bed.
But no. That would be too easy.
Instead, I was standing outside the clubhouse of the Devil’s Disciples, whilst my father had a meeting with Crash and Warrior—the current president and vice president of this godforsaken club.
Rumours had been flying around that Warrior was ill. Maybe even retiring soon. Something about arthritis in his hands stopping him from riding. And you can’t lead a biker club if you can’t ride. Weekly bike rides were compulsory, not something you could opt into.
Apparently, it was a way to strengthen the brotherhood.
Nothing to do with me, but I had been dragged here anyway. My dad hadn’t elaborated much. He’d simply told my brother Damien and me to come with him and listen carefully.
Apparently, I was the only one taking that instruction seriously.
The second we arrived, Damien disappeared to see if he could find Laura—the girl already being groomed to become Dante’s old lady. Personally, I thought he was playing with fire, but I’d be damned if I was going to stop him.
Not my circus. Not my monkeys.
Every now and then, raised voices drifted out from inside the clubhouse, but it was impossible to tell whether they belonged to my father or if it was just another drunken idiot on a Friday night.
So I stayed where I’d been told to stand, scanning the compound for anything interesting—anything I could report back to my dad later.
Or better yet, something juicy enough to satisfy Natalie.
Ever since last year in the park, she’d become weirdly obsessed with the Devils. It said a lot about her personality that she was obsessed with the very boys who had threatened us. But that was Natalie to a T. Weird, but she was mine.
Looking around, squinting against the darkness, I sighed heavily, slumping back against the wall.
I wasn’t going to find anything. Anyone of any importance was behind these walls, inside the clubhouse. The only people roaming about were prospects, hang-arounds, or the Descendants.
I’d been seeing more and more of them since that day in the park. I don’t know if it’s because I now recognised more of their faces, or if I was in fact like Natalie, and something drew me to them. Either way, they were becoming impossible to ignore.
They were becoming bigger, something more important, something with more of a presence in this city. And something inside me wanted to be a part of that, even if it was just from the sidelines, silently watching.
Whilst Macbeth was their official leader, Dante had already established himself in our school as the figurehead.
He ran secret recruitment meetings, pulled some minor pranks to initiate new members, and they were even seen sporting cuts with their own earned patches.
They were definitely miles ahead of our own youth division—the Junior Riders.
I’d never admit this to Natalie, but the Descendants definitely intrigued me. Especially that blonde menace who was always so loud and annoying. As much as I wanted to dislike him, I found myself laughing each and every time I saw him.
Hearing the rumble of engines, I pushed myself further against the wall, concealed in the darkness, watching as two more motorbikes pulled up and parked outside the clubhouse.
They didn’t take their helmets off as they walked in, but I saw a brief glimpse of Men of Mayhem on one of their cuts, and instantly shuddered, recognising that patch as the one given to murderers.
They said it was given in honour. That they had killed defending the club. But murder was still murder and wasn’t anything to be celebrated as far as I was concerned.
My mum told me that was a child’s perspective, and the world wasn’t that black and white in reality. But she was currently drunk more than she was sober, so I didn’t give her words much merit.
That was the curse of this club. Everything was too… available. Even for an old lady. I could see it already. The abundance of alcohol, the steady flow of drugs passing from one hand to another. It was easy to see how someone could become addicted to that lifestyle.
I didn’t blame my mum. Not entirely. But I was fed up. And, if I was honest, I resented her.
Just as I was growing fed up, a muttered curse came from my left, and a small figure fell from the shadows, tripping over their own feet.
Poking my head around the corner, allowing my hair to drop over my face to conceal me, I stood with bated breath, waiting and listening.
“Mum, come on!” he huffed, stomping back into the shadows and coming back out with his arm wrapped around the waist of an older blonde woman.
“Luke,” she slurred, her footsteps stumbling in the night. “My Luke. Always so serious.”
“Warrior will be serious, too, if he sees you in this state again.”
“Warrior,” she scoffed, tripping over her own feet once more. Luke fought to keep her upright, wincing as she stepped on his toes. “Warrior can’t stay mad at me for long. He always comes back.”
“You shouldn’t want him to come back, Mum. You know this.”
“What do you know?” she scoffed again. “Pussy is power, son. It always has been. And mine is the most prized pussy.” Her eyes could barely stay focused, and even in the darkness I could see how blown-out her pupils were.
“Sure it is,” he replied without a shred of sarcasm in his voice. He tightened his arm around her and wrapped one of her arms over his shoulders.
They continued to walk down the street, and I wasted not a second, pushing myself off the wall to follow them.
The gravel path crunched under their feet as they staggered down the row of houses that sat behind them. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, followed by the faint thump of music drifting from the clubhouse.
Luke didn’t look back once. He had one goal in mind, and that was to get his mother out of here unseen.
Natalie would fucking love this. And so would my dad. And I saw this for the opportunity it was. If Luke was sneaking his mother around—who was clearly on some hardcore stuff—it was a chance to wound not only the Disciples, but also the Descendants.
“He’ll be back tonight, Luke. Right after the meeting, he’ll be back. And he’ll bring his friends with—”
“Mum, please—”
“He always brings his friends when I’ve fucked up. Always. But the gear stops me feeling anything.”
I smothered a gasp, recognising what was going on here.
Luke’s mother was a club bunny. I was sure of it.
My dad would have a fucking field day with this!
Letting the offspring of one of the whores into the club was almost unheard of, they were seen as strays.
Oh, the clubs would pretend that one day they could make it, and the strays would believe it because they had nothing else going for them.
But they would never rise past a prospect, getting all the shit jobs in the hope of a better life.
Until they were removed—one way or another.
And yet, here Luke was, seemingly best friends with Dante and Macbeth, a rising member of the youth division.
This was exactly what my dad had asked for. It was absolute gold. And for once, I would be able to deliver ammo to him. I’d finally be able to get him to look at me with something other than impatience.
Continuing to follow them, I listened as Luke’s mother continued her inappropriate talk, forever stumbling and falling, never once asking if her son was okay. A frown appeared on my forehead as I watched Luke, who never once complained.
In fact, if anything, he was an expert at placating his mum, keeping her calm when she was acting irrationally, soothing her with a gentle voice.
Even when she lashed out, shoving and slapping at him, he simply gathered her in his arms once again and continued the walk to the housing area of the compound.
Intriguing.
His breathing had grown heavier now, each exhale sharp and controlled as he tried to keep her upright. Every few steps her heels caught on the uneven pavement, forcing him to tighten his grip around her waist to stop her collapsing again.
“You don’t know shit, Luke!” she suddenly screeched, slapping her son’s face. “You’ve been hanging around those bastards too long! You think you can look down on me now, huh? You think I’m a whore? You think I’m nothing?”
“I don’t think that, Mum,” he sighed, clenching his hands into fists. “I just want to take you home. I know you want to go to the party, but what you need right now is a good night’s sleep and—”
“Don’t tell me what I fucking need!” she hissed, slapping him even harder than before, the sound echoing out through the night.
“Just like your fucking father. Always… Always… You’re a burden!
” she finished, her words slurring, her feet criss-crossing over each other as she tried to right herself in her ridiculous shoes.
“If you say so,” Luke muttered. And then he wrapped his arm around her waist once more, placing a small kiss on her forehead. She turned towards his affection, rubbing her cheek along his, and allowed him to walk her further away from the clubhouse.
It didn’t escape my notice that Luke discreetly pulled her skirt over her backside to maintain her dignity. She was that fucked up, she didn’t even feel him doing it. Or, she didn’t care who she did or did not flash her ass to.
“Not long now, Mum. I’ll put the kettle on, and we’ll watch the soaps together. We’ll lock the door and—”
“Oh, so you’re ashamed of me now, are you? Keeping me locked up and out of sight? You weren’t ashamed when I was putting fucking food on the table, were you, lad? Loved the money then, didn’t you? Didn’t ask where it came from then, did you?”
“Mum… I haven’t eaten a meal at home since I was seven. And I didn’t care where the money came from because I was too young to know. I’m not judging you—I never have. But I want more for you than this.”