NINETEEN
P hillip’s bike tore through the winding streets, the roar of the engine drowning out the tumult of his thoughts. Each turn brought him closer to the factory, closer to the sanctuary, where he could gather his thoughts and formulate a plan.
As he skidded to a stop outside the imposing structure, his heart hammered in his chest, a relentless drumbeat. He glanced around, the darkness of the night shrouding the factory in an feeling of foreboding.
Moments later, the sound of approaching motorcycles shattered the silence, and he turned to see Gunnar and Dennis steering toward him.
Stopping next to him, Dennis unloaded a crate of beer, his expression unreadable beneath the dim glow of the streetlights.
“Scor,” Gunnar greeted, tapping him on the shoulder.
He nodded in acknowledgment, his burdens pressing down upon him like a suffocating cloak.
“Thanks for coming, both of you,” he said.
“You know we’ve got your back, no matter what,” Dennis answered.
He led Gunnar and Dennis into the factory, the shadows dancing around them as they moved deeper into the dimly lit space.
As they approached the room at the back of the east wing of the building, Phillip felt a bit calmer. A large tree, with its branches reaching out through the holes in the roof, stood in the middle of the room.
He drifted to the metal drum at the root of the tree, throwing pieces of wood in before he poured gasoline over it and set it on fire.
Soon, the fire crackled in the drum as he stoked the flames, casting flickering shadows across the worn furniture. Rickety chairs and a sagging sofa clustered around the base of the tree, a tribute to the countless hours they had spent here, plotting and planning.
Dennis and Gunnar silently watched, their faces etched with concern as they took their seats. Dennis passed him a beer, and he accepted it with a nod of gratitude before sinking onto the worn cushions of the sofa.
“Are you going to tell us what’s going on?” Gunnar asked, his eyes searching Phillip’s face for answers.
Phillip lit a smoke and took a long drag before answering, the smoke curling around him as he blew out a long breath.
“I found Double R’s killer,” he said, emotionless.
Dennis and Gunnar exchanged a glance, disbelief written across their features.
“It’s Poison,” he stated, venom lacing her name.
“Poison?” Gunnar scoffed, his tone incredulous. “Oh, come on, Scor. How could she have taken down Double R?”
Phillip’s jaw clenched, the memory of the news of Rex’s death flashing before his eyes.
“You haven’t seen her fight, Gun,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You should have seen her the night we met. She could have taken everyone on her own and walked out without a scratch. She’s more capable than you think.”
Gunnar shook his head, his skepticism unwavering. “I get that she’s tough, but taking down Double R? That’s a stretch, even for her.”
Dennis placed a hand on Phillip’s shoulder, his expression solemn.
“We need to be sure before we make any moves,”
he said. “We can’t afford to make a mistake on this.”
Phillip nodded. “I know, but it was her,” he said, his anger slowly making way for something far more dangerous.
“How can you be so sure?” Dennis asked, not convinced.
“Because she’s the leader of the Silver Serpents,” he hissed, throwing his cigarette into the fire.
Gunnar let out a slow whistle.
“I’ve heard rumors but thought they were mere myths,” Gunnar interjected.
“They’re not myths,” he confirmed, his tone solemn. “Poison runs the Silver Serpents, and Double R’s death wasn’t the first time they’ve crossed paths with us. She’s the reason our numbers went down so rapidly four years ago. She took Rex, Caleb, hell, who knows how many more.”
Dennis exchanged a glance with Gunnar, their expressions mirroring Phillip’s growing concern. The revelation painted a darker picture than they had anticipated.
“Damn,” Gunnar muttered, running a hand through his long, blond hair. “If Poison’s involved with the Serpents, this just got a whole lot more complicated.”
Phillip leaned forward, his gaze intense as he met each of their eyes in turn.
“Scor, you’ve heard the stories,” Dennis cautioned. “There’s a reason not even the Italians can control the Serpents. She’s been flying under the radar for who knows how long. They’re notorious. The boss has never even considered going after them. Everyone thinks the city is run by the Italians, Americans and us, but the Serpents has their own territory. And Poison has the whole force of the Italian mob protecting her.”
“That’s why we need to tread carefully,” Phillip urged. “We can’t underestimate her or the Serpents, but she will pay for what she’s done.”
Gunnar nodded in agreement. “So, what’s the plan?” Gunnar asked.
Phillip exhaled slowly, the fire casting dancing shadows across his determined features.
“We gather intel,” he stated, with finality. “We find out everything we can about Poison and the Serpents. Then, when the time is right, we strike.”
Dennis and Gunnar exchanged a glance.
“We’ll need to be extremely careful,” Dennis suggested, breaking the silence. “We can’t afford to draw attention to ourselves. The boss will have our heads if we start a war.”
Phillip nodded in agreement, his mind.
“Dennis is right. This can start a war between the Italians and Japanese, Scor,” Gunnar warned. “Are you sure you want to go after her?”
“I don’t care!” he roared, anger threatening to suffocate him. “She needs to pay for what she did!”
“Okay. Okay,” Gunnar cautioned, his hands raised.
“We’ll gather intel.”
“How should we go about it?” Dennis.
“We’ll split up,” Phillip proposed, his voice steady despite the weight of everything bearing down on him.
“Dennis, you focus on digging into the Serpents’ activities. See if you can find any leads. Gunnar, you’ll work on tracking down any connections Poison might have outside of the Italians.”
Dennis and Gunnar nodded in understanding. The gravity of their mission hung heavy in the air, each of them keenly aware of the dangers ahead.
“And what about you?” Gunnar asked, his voice full of concern as he turned his gaze toward Phillip. “What’s your plan?”
Phillip’s jaw tightened as he considered his next move.
“I’ll pay a visit to Poison,” he stated, unwavering. “See if I can get any information out of her directly.”
Dennis’ eyes widened in alarm.
“Are you sure that’s wise?” he asked, unease in his voice.
Phillip met Dennis’ gaze with a steely resolve.
“I need answers,” he growled, firm and final. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to get them.”
Dennis exchanged a glance with Gunnar, a silent communication passing between them.
“Scor, you know the risks,” Dennis cautioned, his voice edged with concern. “Confronting Poison could escalate things further. Please think before you do something stupid.”
Phillip’s jaw clenched, his decision unwavering despite Dennis’ warning. He has suffered long enough and he won’t waste another second to see the person responsible for his pain pay for their actions.
“I understand the risks,” he replied, his voice dangerously low. “But I’ve waited for four years to find Rex’s killer. I refuse to wait any longer.”
“You waited thirty-five years for someone like Poison,” Dennis said, squaring his shoulders. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. Not many get to experience that.
That little voice in the back of his mind told him Dennis was right. But he squashed it into silence.
“Blood is thicker,” he mumbled, refusing to allow doubt into his mind.
Gunnar placed a hand on Phillip’s shoulder, his expression grave. “Just be careful,” he urged. “We’ll support you however we can, but we need you to come back in one piece.”
Phillip nodded, his determination burning in his chest.
“It is not me who will be in pieces,” he vowed, his words echoing with conviction.
An hour later, Phillip greeted Gunnar and Dennis, needing fresh air. His mind was racing with thoughts, each one a jagged piece of a puzzle he couldn’t decipher. The cool night air offered a welcome escape from the suffocating weight of his thoughts.
As he mounted his bike once more, the roar of the engine cutting through the stillness of the night, he felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins.
After driving aimlessly through the streets, he ended up at the graveyard, his gaze fixed upon Rex’s gravestone. With two beers clutched tightly in his hands, he settled onto the ground, leaning against the cold stone marker. Placing one can reverently against the headstone, he popped open the other and took a long, deliberate sip.
“I found her, Rex” he murmured, his voice barely louder than a breath. “I found her, and I promise you, I will make her pay for what she did to you.”
The words hung in the air, a solemn vow etched into the fabric of the night. It was a promise he intended to keep, no matter the cost.