Chapter Sixty #3
With my guns in my hands, I didn’t wait and marched into the chaos, firing at will.
I was over this shit, and I just prayed that when the dust settled, my son forgave me.
Declan
I paced the living room, waiting for the call. My brother stood against the wall by the front door watching his childhood girlfriend as she spoke to my wife. I was glad Darcy was alive. Happy to see her even, but her presence here had set things in motion that would tear King’s world apart.
Again.
She should have stayed gone.
Duncan stood in the kitchen, his phone to his ear as he spoke with his wife. Freyja was pregnant, and I knew being here without her couldn’t be easy. I was happy for him. He deserved to find his woman. He’d put his entire life on hold for the family.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from the office letting me know it had begun. My officers had been given instructions not to engage. King had begged me to hold them back. He didn’t want their deaths on his hands.
I begrudgingly agreed, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t considered calling in the FEDS.
I knew someone. Someone I hadn’t spoken to in over two decades, but even though things ended badly between us, I knew I could call if I had to.
And he would come. Just as I would show up for him if he needed me.
“Where do you think you’re going, little brother?” Sal asked as he stepped in my way.
“Get the fuck out of my way, Sal.” I tried to push past him, but he blocked me at every turn. Sal was shorter than me by an inch, but he was wider. Built more like his father, whereas I was built like mine.
“That is my little brother out there!”
“And he is my son,” Sal snarled.
“Then you should be out there with him, motherfucker!” I seethed.
Mac had moved to stand by the door, and when I turned to go out the back, Duncan was no longer on the phone. He stood sentry, blocking my way.
“What the fuck are you doing? He needs help!” I pleaded with my brother, who stood in front of me like a fucking statue.
“He asked me to keep you here. I wanted to be there, too. But I made a promise to protect you. He knew you wouldn’t stay out of it.”
“Declan,” Maureen’s soft voice cut through the haze and emotion. She wrapped her arms around me as she cried against my chest.
“I can’t lose him, Reenie. I can’t lose King.”
Chasm
“You really think he was a part of it?” my brother Justin asked as he sipped his drink. We sat at the bar, waiting. We’d been waiting for three fucking days.
I knew King had gotten the message, because the women and children had disappeared. Along with the prospects. Well, most of them. I was surprised to see a woman wearing a prospect cut for the Silver Shadows.
“Seems things are changing in the club,” Justin observed, his eyes following my gaze to the woman.
“Yeah, but are they warranted? Steele may be gone, but Stone isn’t. He’ll want to take his spot. By force if necessary. He may have been more subtle than Steele, but he is just as dangerous.”
I kept my eye on the woman. Indie. She moved around the room in the shadows, and I wondered what she was looking for. Her eyes were filled with mistrust. The kind that comes from years of abuse, and I wanted to know her story.
Who was she?
Where did she come from?
What benefit would she be to the club?
An explosion rocked the front door, the force knocking the wind out of me and my brother as we were shoved against the bar. Men filed in, shots ringing out in every direction as the Death Dogs and Satan’s Angels poured into the clubhouse looking to take out everyone in their path.
Reaper was the first man out of church. Then Montana. I made my way around the room, shooting as I went. I knew Justin could take care of himself; I was on a mission.
I might not trust the son of a bitch, but I had been tasked to protect him. I would give my life for the bastard. I just hoped he was worth it.
I made it to the church doors as he stepped out, gun raised, taking out a man who had snuck up on Justin. Neither paused. Justin kept going, and King aimed again.
When his gun was empty, he paused to remove the clip and add another, and that was when the asshole with the Death Dogs’ cut decided to take his shot.
They were supposed to be gone. Their clubhouse blown up; the remaining members with it. Only, someone tipped them off. Someone in this clubhouse was working for the other side.
I snuck up behind King, my gun pointed at his head. “DOWN!” I yelled, and my best friend dropped to the ground as the asshole in front of him pulled the trigger. I may have been a hair faster, but his bullet still hit its mark.
King spun around as I fell to the floor.
“CHASM!”
Montana
Total fucking pandemonium.
Stepping out of church, I watched as Reaper rushed into the melee, roaring and oblivious to the danger, his blades in his hands, cutting through the horde as if it were child’s play.
Even I knew better than to get in his fucking way.
I might be a tad crazy, but I wasn’t fucking certifiable like him!
Still... I couldn’t let him outdo me either.
He would never let me hear the end of it.
Firing at will, I followed him into hell, quickly shooting a Death Dog.
“Aim for the fucking head, fucknuts!” the asshole roared as he sliced the head off a Satan’s Angel.
“Fuck you!” I shouted back, shooting another. “I know how to fucking kill a dead man walking!”
“Oh, really?” Reaper shouted back, his blade slicing into a Death Dog. “If you’d killed these fuckers when you had the chance, then we wouldn’t be in this fucking mess!”
Stopping in the middle of this chaos, I looked at my so-called best friend and pointed at the man at his feet. “He doesn’t count! He’s a Death Dog!”
“They are working together,” he snarled. “HE COUNTS!”
Grumbling, I aimed and shot another between the eyes. “BETTER?”
“YES!” Reaper shouted, jabbing his blade into the gut of a Satan’s Angel before yanking it up, gutting him from stomach to rib cage.
It was gruesome, and if I were honest, I actually wanted to vomit.
Turning away from the maniac, I spotted a Death Dog advancing on my brother Torment and didn’t think before I shot the fucker in the back of his head.
Torment looked at me in surprise before nodding, then running off, firing at another intruder.
Fuck, this shit was a total mess.
I was getting too fucking old for this shit.
Maybe I should just let Reaper take over everything.
I had a wife and kids to think about, but seeing my brothers fighting alongside the Golden Skulls and the Silver Shadows, I knew Reaper and King would need my help.
With what, I didn’t know, but I knew I couldn’t walk away leaving them holding the proverbial shit bag.
“MONTANA!”
Spinning around, I froze as I stared into familiar eyes. Eyes that mirrored my own. Then I felt the burn of two bullets enter my stomach. Standing there, unable to move, I couldn’t look away as he leaned close and whispered, “Tell Dad I said hi, brother.”
Falling to my knees, I couldn’t stop looking at him as he faded into the background, and I fell to the floor and closed my eyes. All I could think about was my Tessa, and I prayed she forgave me.
Indie
This was the shit I was trained for. I watched, and I waited, knowing the precise moment when to strike. I’d been watching him since the moment he set foot inside the clubhouse.
I didn’t trust him.
I never had.
I’d recognized him that very first day. He had a face I would never fucking forget. Eyes that shone with evil. He had everyone fooled.
Everyone but me.
And Mimic.
We’d talked about him. I told him I didn’t trust the man, but I didn’t tell him why. I couldn’t. Not yet. Mimic didn’t trust him either. But he told me to wait. He said to trust King. And I did. But he didn’t know what I knew. That was my fault. I should have told him immediately who he was.
Nemesis.
He hid in the shadow of goodness. Making a name for himself—a name people feared with reverence. They didn’t know what he was truly capable of. But I knew.
I’d seen it.
Experienced it.
He thought he’d gotten away with it. Thought I didn’t know who and what he was. He didn’t know I remembered everything. Every fucking thing he’d ever done to me.
There were men and women who weren’t in the Trick Pony files. Something people didn’t know—that no one had figured out yet—was that Devlin Scott wasn’t the man in charge.
Oh, he ran the Trick Pony. He was the name and the face of everything. The truly evil and sadistic men and women had designed it that way so they would never be found out.
Only, now was my chance to take one of them out. He would just be another casualty in a war that had nothing to do with him. An ally caught in the crossfire.
The explosion had given me the moment I needed. Everyone was disoriented. Except me. I’d been trained to withstand every scenario. I’d been created to be unkillable. To be the last one standing.
Me and my sisters.
He aimed his gun, ready to take out the enemy. For every three or four enemies he shot, he shot an ally. Men were dropping like flies, but taking him out would even the playing field.
I jumped onto his back. My hand yanked his forehead as he stumbled back into the darkness. My blade sliced into the skin under his ear, and I sneered, “Gotcha, motherfucker.” His eyes widened at the sound of my voice, and my knife sank deeper into his neck as I slid it across his throat.
His gurgled protest brought a smile to my face, and he fell to his knees. I let go of his head and moved on. Never thinking about him again.
Morpheus
Rushing out of church, I bumped into Cerberus.
“Just like old times, huh, Prez!” The crazy fucker smiled, popping off rounds as if he were at a carnival booth determined to win the big prize.