Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
CALLIE
I really freaking hated Silas.
My glare was severe enough that he realized this, that or my death grip on the edge of the table gave it away. While I knew I wasn’t supposed to speak up in this meeting, I couldn’t help the angry whisper that left my chest.
“What the fuck did you just say?”
Silas scowled back, those pale blue eyes brutal as he set his jaw.
Wes gripped my waist, trying to pull me back against him, but like fuck was I going to sit here and listen to some Death Raider discuss the semantics of his murder.
Maybe I was on edge because of my father, and maybe I was just over all this club bullshit.
Didn’t really make a difference in my mood either way.
I was on edge, and the deeper this hole seemed to go, the angrier I became.
Silas finally let out a small laugh, looking around the room. “Relax. He wouldn’t be sitting here alive if I had any intention of following through with the threat.” His blank inspection returned to me. “You, on the other hand, I haven’t decided about yet.”
Wes went rigid behind me.
“Start explaining, Roman, or we’re just going to make an executive decision. Any threat to Little Fox is a threat to the club,” Killian warned, bringing his hands together in front of him.
Wes had a death grip on me, which was the only indication that he was barely in control of his temper.
I looked over at Silas with a new understanding as I considered what Kill had just called him. This was the Roman they kept talking about. Stupid nickname, if you asked me, but maybe I was biased and just hated his guts.
Leaning back, unfazed, Silas stared at the wall across from me.
With a malicious smirk, he shook his head, which had my eyes scanning the space he kept drifting to.
There on the wall, among other memorabilia, was a Death Raider cut with a railroad spike pinning it to the wall.
Dried blood covered the leather, including most of the white lettering that revealed the name: Poet.
Whoever the man was had obviously died, maybe that was angering the other Death Raider in the room?
Finally Silas let out a sigh, lounging back in his chair. “Dirk wants Callie. He’s been looking for a new old lady, says he wants her, and said he’s willing to renegotiate terms of the property.”
My belly filled with dread, while my skin felt like someone had just splattered it with mud. I didn’t remember Dirk; I’d never been close enough to see him while conscious, but I didn’t have to remember him to know I never wanted to be in the same room as him. And apparently I had, at some point.
I turned my face to take in Wesley’s expression, but he gave nothing away.
He was all walled off, brick and stone so that nothing showed.
There was a tiny part of me that was curious if Wes would prefer this, so I was out of his hair and his precious club was free and clear of the threat of being taken.
I realized no one had spoken, and all eyes were on me, as though they were waiting on my decision, all except Wes.
The tightness of his fingers screamed that he was about to lose it.
“What do you say, Wes? Think your precious River can take one for the team by being the new queen of Raider territory? It’d make her untouchable…might be the safest place for her.”
My lips parted when he used my nickname. No one else had ever used that nickname but Wes. It was his endearment for me, and only his.
“Ah, fuck,” Killian sighed, scooting back in his chair.
I had no warning before Wes briskly stood, depositing me in his chair.
It all happened within a single breath. Killian lifted Silas by the arms, holding him still while Wes stepped up and punched the Roman in the nose with a sickening crunch. Then he threw another hit, and another. I winced each time I heard his fist connect.
“You think this is funny? Think you can come in here and say that fucking name?”
Another punch landed in Silas’s stomach, but Killian held him up, so Wes continued to have a clear shot, but he didn’t need anymore. A silver-plated revolver was pulled out and was now pointed directly at the Raiders forehead. The room went silent.
Silas didn’t say a word to defend himself, nothing at all.
“Wes,” I whispered, as the hammer was pulled back and the gun was prepped to shoot.
Wesley’s fist was red as he stared Silas down, pointing the gun directly at his face.
The room watched on, and I noticed all the other members had their guns drawn, down and out of sight. The only sound was Silas’s heavy breathing and Wesley’s boots as he stepped closer to the bleeding man.
Wes gripped Silas by the hair and tipped his face back, placing the gun to his cheek. “She is not a commodity in this club. She is not a piece of property to be traded or discussed. You don’t look at her. You don’t speak to her. She is mine, and only mine. Do you understand me?”
The deadly quiet in Wesley’s words slid into my chest, cracking something open.
It was like smashing a mirror and being able to step through it, into a different time.
My mind flashed back to feeling left out, forgotten, and alone, and it all reeled into this one moment, right here where Wes had just boldly chosen me.
Not the club, not something that would benefit them, but me.
Silas smiled, showing his bloodied mouth, and the idiot stared at me from his awkward position.
I realized then that he had a death wish, an actual desire to die.
“Fine, Ryan. She’s safe from club politics.
I’ll let you keep what Simon stole from you.
But mark my words”—he tipped his head, his broken nose gushing blood as he caught Wesley’s gaze—“what I did here was a kindness to you. I expect it to be repaid when I’m president of the Death Raiders.
Your club took something that belongs to me, and when the time is right, I’m coming back for it. Understand?”
Chills swept down my arms, knowing there was something deeper going on here. Silas knew something or had made his own plans. I wanted to speak up, try to calm things down, but I knew I’d only make them worse, so I sat there and bit my lip so hard I could taste blood.
“You don’t get to just come in here and pick a Stone Rider to keep, like a puppy,” Killian joked, strengthening his hold on the hostage in front of him.
Silas continued to stare at Wesley as though they were silently communicating.
“When that time comes, you won’t have a choice, and I never said anything about them being a member.” That sinister gaze fell once again on me, making my insides recoil. What was he talking about? The only nonmembers in a club were… women.
Wes finally stepped back, and Killian let go. Silas roughly shook his arms once, then someone handed him a rag for his face.
“You’re going to need to set that,” Pops commented, gesturing to the Raiders broken nose. “Want me to do it?”
Silas glared. “Fuck off, old man.”
Wes moved behind me, crossing his arms over his chest while the remaining members sat quietly around the table, waiting for the meeting to pick back up.
“What’s your play if you were supposed to kill him?” I suddenly blurted, as I saw Silas retreating toward the exit.
He paused, lifted his chin to Wes, then glanced back at me.
“My plan was to go back with you. Dirk would let me live if I at least had something. Since I don’t, I won’t go back, at least not until I’m sure I can kill him. Once I do, I’ll become president. When that happens, I’ll be back for what’s mine.”
He gave one last look to Wes before pushing through the doors and leaving the club.
My entire body felt wired with adrenaline.
Someone was brutally beaten and almost shot in front of me, and while I had been exposed to a lot growing up here, I was never around the violence.
Dad was always sure I was kept clear of any real danger, as often as he could.
I saw tiny drunken skirmishes, but nothing like what had just taken place.
No one else seemed thrown by it. Wes placed a hand on my shoulder, then played with my hair as the rest of the meeting seemed to move on.
Addressing the table, Wes spilled the news about my dad.
“The grave of Simon Stone is empty.”
A shock rippled through the room as members broke out from around the table, all speaking at once. All except Killian, Giles, and Rune. They flicked a quick gaze my way before Wes took hold of the room again.
“We suspect he’s alive, based off some letters he sent Callie.”
The folded pile of papers landed in front of me, and the room quieted once more.
Wes explained the pattern he’d seen in the notes from my father: the extra usage of the letter y, the misspelling of a word to make it look like the town of Pyle and a few other things Wes had picked up on.
The notes were passed around the table, from member to member, until they all returned.
The room was somber, contemplative for several minutes until Brooks finally spoke up.
“It’s gotta be the Triple Y ranch on the edge of Pyle. That’s near where his old lady lives. There’s no chance she’s in the dark on this.”
Giles nodded, adding in his two cents. “She might have been before, but I doubt she still is.”
“She stopped showing up at the clubhouse with the Death Raiders. It’s partially why her son is so on edge. He’s worried about her,” Hamish offered.
My heart softened, thinking about Sasha. It complicated my feelings for Silas in a strange way. I didn’t like him, but I could understand his rage if he was afraid for his mother’s safety. It didn’t seem like he was too pleased that his mom had been dating my dad, or the danger it put her in.
Wes spoke up from behind me, bringing my thoughts back. “So we head out this afternoon, see what we can find. If Simon is there, we need to figure out what his plan is, and bring us up to fucking speed.”