Chapter 23 Whiz
WHIZ
“Alright, shut the fuck up.”
Lyric doesn’t say it loud, but it cuts through the room anyway, dropping the chatter fast. Chairs scrape, boots shift, and the last of the side conversations die out as everyone settles in. Church has a way of pulling everyone into the same headspace whether they want to be there or not.
I lean back in my chair, arms crossed, and my focus locked forward even though my head isn’t fully in the room yet.
It’s still at Death’s Door, still on her.
“Status,” Lyric demands, pacing once in front of the table before stopping. “I talked to Big Daddy this morning. They ran everything they’ve got: contacts, enemies, old shit we might’ve missed.”
“And?” Zombie asks, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on the table.
Lyric shakes his head. “Nothing. No ties. Nobody we’ve dealt with is laying claim to what happened.”
“That’s bullshit,” Quake mutters. “Nobody hits a club like ours without reason.”
“Exactly,” Lyric replies. “Which means this ain’t somebody we know.”
“So we’re just supposed to sit here and wait for some random fucks to try us again?” Pastor snaps.
“No,” Lyric says. “We find them first.”
“How the fuck are we supposed to do that if we don’t even know who they are?” Boondock cuts in.
That’s when Romeo speaks up, sliding a tablet forward like he’s been waiting for his moment. “Actually… we might.”
Every head turns toward him.
“What’ve you got?” Lyric asks.
Romeo taps the screen, bringing something up. “I pulled the footage from Death’s Door. Took longer than I’d like because whoever did this didn’t exactly give us clean visuals, but I finally got something usable.”
He turns the tablet so everyone can see.
What Romeo deems usable is actually blurry and distorted, but there’s enough there. Shapes, outlines, faces just barely visible under masks or shadows.
“Enhanced this as much as I could,” Romeo continues. “Then I took it to a few of the guys who were at the service. Figured if anyone might recognize something, it’d be them.”
“Smart,” Zombie mutters.
“Lucky, too,” Romeo adds. “One of them did.”
Lyric leans in slightly. “And?”
Romeo exhales. “New crew. Calling themselves the Black Seraphs.”
“You’re fucking kidding,” Quake says.
“Nope.”
“Black bullshit what?” Pastor scoffs. “That sounds like some wannabe cartel nonsense.”
“Doesn’t matter what they call themselves,” Zombie snaps. “They shot at us.”
“And killed one of ours,” someone mutters from the back.
“They’re trying to get a foothold on the west coast,” Romeo explains. “Pushing product. Moving fast. No respect for established territories.”
“Which means they’re either stupid,” Boondock begins. “Or they think they’re big enough to throw their weight around.”
“Or both,” Lyric adds.
“That’s a problem,” Quake says.
“That’s a fucking understatement,” Zombie snarls.
“They got numbers?”
“Who’s backing them?”
“Where the fuck they coming from?”
Everyone is talking at once so Lyric raises a hand, and just like before, the room grows quiet.
“We don’t have everything yet,” he says. “But we’ve got a name. We’ve got a direction. That’s more than we had yesterday.”
“Not enough,” Pastor mutters.
“No,” Lyric agrees. “But it’s a start.”
He looks around the room, his gaze landing on every single one of us.
“We dig. We find out who’s running them, where they’re operating, what they think they’re doing pushing into our space. And when we have that—”
“We shut it the fuck down,” Zombie finishes.
A low rumble of agreement fills the room.
“Exactly,” Lyric says. “Assignments start now.” He points, calling out names, giving directions.
“Zombie and Quake, run their known movement patterns. Figure out supply routes. Boondock, figure out the flow of their money. I want to know where it’s coming from.
Romeo, keep digging into their digital footprint.
Someone this loud leaves traces.” He pauses.
“Whiz, stick to your usual. I want to know how they travel and where they travel to and from.”
I nod, but I’m already tuning out the rest. My mind wanders to Zoey. She’s a part of this whether I like it or not, and right now, I fucking hate it because she’s not here at the clubhouse where I can protect her.
She’s still at Death’s Door. Granted, Scrubs and Danny are there with her, so she’s technically safe, but it doesn’t ease my worry any.
So much for nothing changing.
“Anything else?” Lyric asks, pulling me from my thoughts. No one speaks up. “Good. Church dismissed.”
I’m on my feet fast, heading for the door before most of them have even stood up.
“Jesus,” Quake mutters behind me, but I don’t stop. “Whiz,” he barks, and his tone has me rethinking.
I turn slowly to face him. “What?”
Quake’s leaning back against the table, watching me carefully.
“That look on your face,” he says. “Didn’t think I’d see that again this soon.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
He smirks. “I’m talking about you being focused on something that ain’t Undertaker.”
I stalk back toward him. “That’s what you think this is?” I ask.
Quake shrugs. “I think it’s good. You were stuck before. Now you’ve got something pulling you forward again.”
I know his words come from a good place, but they piss me off nonetheless.
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” I sneer.
“Don’t I?”
I don’t respond because I don’t fucking know how. Quake doesn’t know what he’s talking about, but neither do I, and that pisses me off more than anything.
So instead, I shut down the only way I know how, by cutting everything off, locking my walls into place.
“Watch your mouth,” I mutter, and then I turn and walk out before he can push it any further.
This time, no one stops me.