20. Ash
Ash
Tearing through the night, my bike swerves with the curves of the road.
Both of my seconds follow close behind, flanking either side of me.
Our bike’s roar in the night, crackling with life.
Wind batters me from every angle, and even though this meeting isn’t going to be enjoyable, this ride almost makes it worth it.
Checking my rearview mirrors, I see a spark of excitement in the twins’ eyes as they speed along in the night like panthers. It’s been too long since my brothers and I sped along the asphalt with no destination.
Unfortunately, tonight we have a destination.
The grey zone.
Located in an abandoned shipping dock, in the middle of the rusted old shipping containers, is the only neutral spot in the city. The only spot the organisations can meet and talk without the fear of violence.
As much as I want to walk into this meeting with my gun drawn high, any act of violence is a death sentence for me and my men. Every gang in the state comes for those who disrespect the neutral zones.
Tonight, I need to speak with Zeke. The man who orchestrated the death of three of my brothers and doesn’t seem to be finished.
Thomas reported back today that he found more explosives in one of the Devil-owned nightclubs.
If we hadn’t found it in time, not only would devils be killed, but civilians too.
I know that doesn’t bother Zeke, and it doesn’t necessarily bother me, but it bothers the police force that I pay a hefty fee to manage.
The tension between our two clubs is growing stronger by the day, and it started since the day I took my father’s place as president of the Devils.
I find myself drifting back to the ride I took my angel on. On the way she gripped me tight as we rode. How she stared out into the city. How I laid her on my bike and fucked her slowly.
My hands ache to roam her body again, to feel her perfect curves.
It’s been too fucking long, each day ticking slower.
But I have shit to deal with. Which includes one of the Wraiths we found sniffing around one of our drug shipments, tied up in the factory, currently bleeding all over the concrete.
He’s still alive because he still has information to give. For the time being.
We veer into the dock, a black sedan waiting for us, as we slip off our bikes.
The rules are, we must come unarmed, but with the twins, even with no weapons, I’m never unarmed.
These boys have killing down to a fine-tuned art, and their bare hands are weapons enough.
They follow me into the middle of the yard, gravel crunching under my boots, and the stale scent of mildew makes my nose itch.
Spotlights illuminate the area just enough to cast long shadows along the ground.
He's already here.
The bastard leans against a rusted shipping container like he’s got all the time in the world.
Smoke curls from the cigarette in his hand, drifting lazily into the cold air.
He’s dressed in a suit, charcoal coloured, and the intricate swirls of ink peek out from the expensive material.
The suit fits him like it were tailored to his body, sharp lines, expensive fabric, not a wrinkle out of place.
It’s been an age since I’ve seen the man, and he looks older. Worn and hard. Granted, he is five years older than me, but he is as ruthless as they come. As ruthless as the man who raised me. His hair is cut close, severe, exposing a face of hard lines, heavy brows, and deep eyes.
He raises an eyebrow at the men flanking my sides, but I know he has men hiding about somewhere. Too much of a coward to come alone, I’m sure he has snipers aimed right at my heart this second, screwing the rules.
“You look more and more like your father every time I see you,” Zeke drawls, a cruel smile on his face that doesn’t reach his eyes. His voice is low and unhurried, like he has nowhere else to be.
Gritting my teeth, I suck in a slow breath through my nose, trying to dispel the immediate rage filling my system. He watches without moving, just a slight tilt of his head as he watches me intently.
“I am nothing like the cunt,” I reply, cooly. “That’s why I put a gun to his head.”
I know I am nothing like him. Every day I make my choices, doing things in the opposite way I think he’d do it.
Zeke lets out a cruel laugh as he steps out of the shadows, dropping his cigarette butt onto the ground and grinding a polished shoe over it.
“You are more like your father than you know, Ash. I would know.” The spark in his eye tells me he knows he hits the mark.
Of course he would know.
“Dad’s little prodigy,” I murmur, smiling at him. “I wonder if you’ll meet the same ending as him too.”
I wonder if my dad ever knew Zeke had it in him to surpass his level of cruelty. If he’s looking up from the depths of hell and wonders why he couldn’t match that of his found son. Of the boy he found in the arms of one of the gang ladies, who had overdosed on blow with the kid in her hands.
Zeke did try to take the position of president from me that day. The day I slaughtered my father. With a handful of devils backing him. It caused an internal war that shed blood, but evidently, I won. And he had run away with his tail between his legs, finding his way with the Wraiths.
“My dad was a weak man, Zeke. A teenager fell him,” I smile, shrugging.
The look he returns is pure murder; his face transforming from smug satisfaction to pure rage.
His chest heaves under his expensive tailored suit, and his long fingers clench into fists. “You asked me here, Ash. I’m sure you didn’t call a meeting just to reminisce.”
I crack my knuckles, letting the pain bring me back to the present.
“No, I didn’t,” I drawl, cracking my neck.
“I brought you here to ask you why the fuck you are sending your men into my territory. Killing my men on their own grounds.” My voice rises as memories of my men hit me straight in the gut.
Zeke’s face once again transforms into pure satisfaction as he watches the effects of his actions play out on my expression. I’ve never been good at poker; my face expresses everything I’m feeling.
“If you want an all-out war, then I’ll give it to you. Because that is where this is heading if you keep fucking with what’s mine,” I grit out. No club wants a war. Too many men die. Weakness cracks at foundations, allowing outside clubs to sniff around.
“I don’t really want anything from you and your mutts,” he sniffs, his pretentious actions making my skin crawl. His dead eyes lock onto mine as his lips twitch to the side. “All I want is to right the wrong from all those years ago. To take what you took from me.”
I stare, incredulous. Groups like us fight over harbours. Turf. Clubs. Not revenge for ancient incidents. Not over a decade old.
An amused laugh falls out of me. “So, you are throwing a tantrum because you didn’t get your way...
nearly two decades ago.” The humour dies inside me though, knowing now that my brothers died for things I did.
My smile falls off my face. “I underestimated your stupidity, Zeke,” I spit, disgust twisting my face.
I start to turn away but stop. “And what exactly do you think I took from you?”
It should be obvious. I took the presidency of the club.
I took the club from him. By killing my father, I also took him away from Zeke.
But the way death shines in his eyes right now, in the shadows of the grey zone, something has me curious.
I want to hear it from his mouth. Because those things I took were inherently mine.
And I will not stand for my men dying for them.
He doesn’t answer straight away.
He just looks at me, and the silence stretches thin between us. Already dark eyes darken as he stares straight through me.
A muscle feathers in his jaw, once. Again. His mouth tightens, lips pressing into a hard line as his shoulders draw back, his body going rigid in a way that looks like restraint.
He exhales slowly through his nose. “Everything,” he murmurs.
My head tilts, studying him. The man whom my dad claimed was the better man. Trying to see him in my dad’s eyes but coming up short.
“Then you should’ve fought harder,” I say flatly.
Now I turn, ready to get the fuck out of here. I avoid the grey zone at all costs, mostly because I have no interest in being civil with men who aren’t my own. Kai and Kaleb wait until I’m past them before I hear them following closely behind me.
“Oh... Ash?” Zeke drawls from behind me.
I inhale slowly, my patience drawing thin, before my head turns behind me, my brow raised in question.
“How’s the new toy going? Maddison... If I’m correct?” Her name on his tongue sounds wrong. “What a beauty she is...”
The night seems to still.
The sound of the harbour fades, the distant creak of metal and water dropping away until all I can hear is my own breathing. Slow, deliberate, and leashed with effort.
My jaw tightens as my teeth grind together.
Hearing her name on his tongue, knowing that he is aware of my angel. Something ugly coils in my chest, sharp and angry. The beast inside me roaring to be freed.
I turn back to face him fully. The twins shift with me, subtle and lethal at my side. Zeke notices, of course, his smile widening a fraction, pleased with himself for finally landing a hit that matters.
“Say her name again, I dare you,” I mutter with cold fury. My hand slides down to the gun at my belt, muscles taut with restraint.
He chuckles, low and amused, and it takes everything I have in me not to fire a bullet between his brows.
Because the minute my hand touches the cold metal by my side, I’ve declared war.
War against every criminal in the country.
If I made it that far. I doubt I’d take a step with it in my hand before I’m shot at from above.
But redness blooms in my eyesight, and fury has me wondering if it’d be worth it. Noone threatens my angel.
Zeke’s dark eyes scour my reaction. “How interesting,” he murmurs, a smile curving onto his face. “She’s going to make a fabulous date on Friday night. I heard her daddy dearest lets his associates get really familiar with his only child.”
His words barely register, before my legs work to carry me to the dead asshole. Because that’s what he is... fucking dead. Two strong arms grip mine, stopping me from declaring war, and I struggle against them.
“Fuck you,” I spit, straining against the iron grip on my arms.
Zeke laughs, quiet and satisfied.
“There he is,” he murmurs. “Just like your father. You’re the spitting image of him right now.”
My vision tunnels before I take a step back. The sudden stillness makes the twins tighten reflexively, ready for another surge, but it doesn’t come. I go cold instead, calmness settling into my bloodstream like ice.
Zeke clicks his tongue softly, disappointed, but I don’t wait around, spinning towards my bike. My seconds follow, their boots crunching the ground behind me. Every step towards my bike locks something into place inside me.
Death warrants.
For Zeke.
For Howard Dally.
For anyone who threatens my brothers and my angel.
The engines roar to life moments later, tearing us out of the dock and back into the night. Wind slams into me, the city rushing up fast.
It’s time to prepare for war.