Chapter 4 Killian
FOUR
KILLIAN
THREE MONTHS AGO
The noise still got to me.
Two thousand angry and bitter prisoners trying to make the best of the sentences they’d been given. Some of these men might not have earned it, but there was no question at all that my pops had.
He was a mean motherfucker, and while I would never normally come here on my own or because I wanted to, he was still a Stone Rider, and we didn’t leave our men behind. Regardless of what they’d done to get themselves put behind bars.
I entered the visiting room without my cut on because seeing the patches might incite violence with the other visitors. This part of Virginia was home to five dangerous clubs that carried the one percent patch, so it wasn’t merely bloody or dangerous: it was a death wish.
I wasn’t allowed to take anything with me inside the visiting room, but Carl, the guard, knew me and didn’t mind letting me through with my paper and eraser.
It wasn’t like either could do any harm.
Seated at a small table large enough for two chairs, I unfolded the paper I had shaded the night prior; it was completely covered in graphite.
I took out my eraser and began tracing. I didn’t consider myself an artist but drawing, or rather the opposite of drawing, had always worked to calm me down.
Even now at thirty-two years old, it worked.
I had no idea how much time had passed, but before long, there was a loud buzzing sound that went off, which meant my father was being led inside. The eraser dropped from my fingers right as he folded into the chair across from me.
“You still doing that shit?”
I kept my eyes on the page, carefully folding it.
“That a fuckin flower?” my dad barked loudly, followed by a raspy laugh.
My jaw tensed, but I wouldn’t show him. Once I had control over my words and my temper, I finally set my gaze on the man who sired me.
Green eyes, darker than mine, glowered. He had circles under his dark lashes, and his skin looked paler than normal.
“You stop getting outside time?”
His wince was slight, but I caught it.
“Had to be in the box for a while.” His shoulders lifted while he briefly glanced over his left side. The guard by the door locked a hard gaze on him.
“Solitary sounds more your speed. What you do to earn it?” I was careful not to ask what happened or allow him to become a victim in any way. He was a narcissist and would take any opportunity he was given.
My dad shrugged once more, this time the mean glare on his face twisted into something sinister. “Gutted a Raider.”
Normally I wouldn’t mind that he’d killed a Death Raider, but Wes was worried about things escalating after hearing from Callie that a few had been staying in town. We weren’t sure what they were up to but now that she was back, we needed to be careful.
“Came here to deliver some news.” I sat forward, so our conversation would stay quiet.
This chat was overdue, but I had been dragging my feet.
Fuck, he likely already knew, but if he had then he would have already said something.
Maybe there was a reason I had stalled on telling him that his best friend of thirty years had died.
Perhaps regardless of how mean he was, or the fact that he left me all alone when I was just ten years old, there was a part of me that hesitated telling him our president had passed.
Swallowing past my nerves, I blinked and spilled it. “Simon’s dead.”
My father’s eyes narrowed as if he were trying to work out what I’d said then his jaw tightened.
He didn’t reply for several seconds. Possibly minutes. His eyes finally left my face, wandering to the table as he relaxed in the chair.
“So, you’re the new president then?” His dull eyes peered up at me with hope.
My gut churned with shame. This was the other reason I was holding off on telling him.
I shook my head.
“What the fuck do you mean, no?” My dad looked around briskly, before leaning forward once more. “You were Vice President last I heard when Simon came to visit…what, two months ago?”
Two months ago, Simon had lost nearly twenty pounds and looked like he was sick. Had my dad asked him? Did he even care that his best friend had died?
“Wes Ryan.”
I could see the wheels churning in my father’s head as he tried to remember who Wes was.
Dad was put away before Wes first came over to the house when he was that gangly fifteen-year-old.
I had met him when he was younger, only thirteen and starry-eyed in love with Callie.
I had been patched into the Stone Riders by then, doing deliveries.
Dad had already been in prison for a few years.
“Wes who?”
I shook my head again, scuffing my blunt thumbnail over the surface of the table. “Been around for a few years. Simon picked him.”
That searing pain in my gut returned. I was embarrassed that Simon hadn’t chosen me; there wasn’t even a conversation about it. He was dying and just said in his last church meeting that it would be Wes and there would be no questions.
Fucking hurt like hell, but who was I to complain? Obviously, I was fucking no one if I had been passed over, and I was the goddamn Vice President.
Dad’s scoff brought my eyes back up, his lips twisted into a sneer.
“Fucking useless. Can’t even secure becoming president when you’re the VP. No wonder Simon skipped over you. You always were too weak for this life; you don’t belong in the club. You belong behind a desk, drawing rabbits and fuckin’ flowers.”
My heart burned in my chest. A familiar fire that raged on behalf of the monster my father had always been to me.
The abusive words, the physical marks he’d left on my face that Simon noticed but never called him out for.
He did offer me a place near his family block of the clubhouse, where Callie lived.
But he didn’t banish my dad from the club.
Shortly after my mom left, my father went and killed a Sweetbutt.
A girl who was nice to me, and honestly not much older than me, barely eighteen as far as I could remember.
It was unforgivable, not only because hurting women in our club was outlawed, but Sweetbutts were especially offered special protection.
Which was why Simon refused to offer his connections to help my dad get out earlier.
He assumed I would help him if I’d been given the role.
“You’re loose gravel, Killian. Stone always needed someone like him, solid and formidable. You’re nothing but a tiny pebble in the shoe of a great leader.”
My heart rate spiked as I remembered back to my mother talking to me about pebbles and their power. How important they were, and I remembered my father slapping her for instilling such a weak thought into my head.
Shaking my head, I stood and peered down at my dad.
“Just owed you the truth about your president. Your new one is Wes Ryan, be faithful to him or leave. Choice is yours.”
I heard him screaming at my back about loyalty and me being a pussy, but the guard came and grabbed him. The last words I heard before the door clicked shut was, “Take Wes down, claim your spot in the club or so help me, I will do it for you.”
I shook off the remark, but something had dug under my skin after the visit.
I wasn’t done fighting for my place in the club; it might take longer, but I knew one day it would be mine. I knew this because Wes had a weakness, and she’d just reappeared after seven years.
I had none.
I’d made sure when it was time to step into my role and claim it, I’d be ready.
No person or situation would ever change that.