Chapter 11
Wraith
I’ve never seen my brothers so somber. Usually church is filled with sarcasm and jokes, ribbing at each other’s expense. It’s often rowdy and disorderly in an acceptable kind of way, since we’re all men and most of us so rough around the fucking edges it’s a miracle we don’t unravel.
I walk into the room where we hold our club meetings, a massive room with a huge oval table in the center, to find it as silent as death. Steel is already at his spot at the head of the table, Edge beside him. Both of them look like they’ve just sucked down a truck full of lemons.
All the chairs are taken, since I’m one of the last to arrive.
Wing still isn’t here yet. I shift into a corner, using the wall to hold me up, because I can’t believe this shit.
I don’t know Gage that well, but I do know he’d never do a thing like this.
He’d never lay a hand on a woman. We have strict rules, as a club.
Women and children are never to be harmed.
When one brother wrongs another, violence may be used as a bloody solution to a problem, an apology pounded out with fists but never has any of the men in the room used violence against a woman.
The Riders aren’t like other clubs. We all love bikes.
That’s what draws us together, but Steel and Edge created this club as a place for men who have nowhere else to go.
Men who have been forsaken by the world.
We’re redeemed when we become a member of The Riders, and no man in our club takes that shit lightly, or breaks a code that to us, is sacred.
We don’t have long to wait for the shitshow to get started.
Gage is ushered in, the big man, a few years younger than me, only twenty-five or twenty-six, sobbing.
If you’ve never heard a grown man cry, let me tell you, it’s not a pretty thing.
Those broken noises chill me straight down to my bones.
They’re devoid of hope and filled up with so much burning shame, it makes me go hot all over.
I want to cut off my own ears, just so I don’t have to hear it.
Before anyone can say a word, Gage raises his head and faces Steel, who we all know will make a final decision. He’s no judge or jury, and he sure as hell isn’t an executioner, but he will decide Gage’s fate.
“I didn’t do it. I… don’t remember anything.
I was… we were at the hall one minute, the next, Snake took us home, since I had a lot to drink.
I’m sorry, Prez. Didn’t mean for it to get out of control.
I was just nervous. It’s not every fucking day a man gets married, and I didn’t even know her.
I never would have… never would have hurt her.
I came to and she was like that. I fuckin’ swear it on my life, Steel. I never laid a finger on her.”
Steel sighs, long and deep. That acrid sound of air rushing out of his lungs seems to sum up the entire feeling of the room. No one says anything. The room is entirely silent, except for the muffled, hoarse gasps torn from Gage’s throat.
I force myself to look at him, my brother, and when I see his face, my stomach bottoms out. The abject misery on display there, the sheer confusion and horror and sickening guilt lies thick as tar on his face.
“I don’t know what this means for our new chapter,” Steel begins.
“We still haven’t ironed out all the details.
The best we can hope for, at this point, is that this doesn’t trigger a war.
I entered into these negotiations to keep us all safe.
Our women and our children and the people of the town we call home.
I did it to keep our club together, to keep us in business so that we can continue to be a club.
This was a safeguard for all of us, and honestly, though I fucking hate to admit it, it does extend our influence, having a second chapter.
I never wanted it. Wanted this to be a place people could call home, not a group of assholes who beat women. ”
The entire room draws in a collective breath, our hearts beating loud, pounding out in unison. I feel like we’re all one entity, banded together by the bonds of brotherhood, a family thicker than blood.
“I’ll contact Viking myself. The best I can hope for is that he agrees to our laws of punishment and that since Gage has wronged Ami and she can’t physically do the job herself, she’ll appoint someone—her father or one of her brothers—to right the wrong.”
Gage forces his spine straight, beside Wing, who hasn’t moved away. He stares at the bastard and it’s clear he feels sorry for him, as sorry as the rest of us do.
“I didn’t touch her, Prez,” he repeats. “I can’t remember a fuckin’ thing from last night, but I swear to any fucking god out there, I didn’t touch her.
” He studies his hands and everyone in the room notices that there are no bruises or scrapes on his knuckles.
Then again, he’s a big, tough man and Ami’s small and soft, and it might not take much to batter her.
Steel makes a noise deep in his throat and it cuts through the room, cuts through us all.
“I believe you, brother,” he finally grinds out in a low tone, carefully controlled, but seething with barely repressed rage.
“But we’ve got no evidence as to who did it, if it wasn’t you.
I’m gonna ask you, as a member of this club, though it’s completely unjust, to prevent a war by letting me negotiate this with Viking. ”
“You want me to confess?” Gage asks, his voice breaking.
Steel shakes his head. “No. Just that she got hurt, when our club should have been protecting her.”
Gage’s shoulders heave and he seems to deflate, draw into himself and disappear right in front of us.
My hands clench into fists at my sides. I want to find whoever did this, because I don’t believe Gage did it for a second, and put the bastard in the ground.
Worse, I want to march into that back room and grab that little bitch by the throat and shake the truth out of her.
Clearly, she accused Gage, and I have no idea why she’d lie.
I’m about to voice my thoughts, that this girl just wanted out of the marriage, that she thinks she can escape this way, or that maybe she wants a fucking war, maybe her father wants a war, and this was all a set up, but Gage lets out a low groan.
“Yes, Prez. Do it. I’ll take whatever they see fit to hand out. I didn’t do this to her, but I’m her husband by law and I didn’t keep her safe.”
Though absolutely none of us feel like justice has been served and we’re about to be treated to a hell of a lot worse coming up—and that’s the best case scenario—Steel dismisses us and we file out of the room.
I’m damn thankful that Edge and Steel went first, and by the time I get out into the hall, Leena and her oldest sister are waiting between our Prez and VP. Steph seems genuinely happy and relieved to see Wing. He sets his hand at the small of her back and guides her down the hall, towards the exit.
I don’t have anything that I can say that will make Leena feel better about finding her sister in that condition.
I’m the one who is relieved when she falls into step beside me.
She holds her head high. She doesn’t ask to be consoled, for me to try and fail with useless words.
She doesn’t ask for gentleness or the reassurance of my touch.
I feel ragged as I mount up on my bike. I make sure Leena is seated and safe before I take us home. I’m careful, keeping the speed to a minimum, when what I really want to do is drop Leena off at home and tear out of town, my bike open full throttle, screaming my rage to the skies.
Instead, I force myself to act like a civilized human being.
If not for Leena’s sake, then for Abby’s.
I have to tend to her. I change her diaper three times a day, or at least check it.
I didn’t have a chance to give her breakfast yet either.
It’s the mundane tasks born of love, caring for a being who relies on me for absolutely everything, that keeps me grounded.
I help Leena off my bike, and even though it’s rude, I stride past her into the house.
She follows behind me, trailing in the wake of my silence.
I hear her stop in the living room, but I keep going until I find Abby still in the bedroom, fast asleep on the bed.
I stroke her head until she wakes up, pushing herself into an upright position.
I check her diaper, which after the literal shitshow of the night before, is still clean and dry.
After I help her down from the bed and set her up in her wheelchair, she follows me, panting and eager, into the kitchen, where I spoon beef flavored dog stew from a can into her dish.
She loves the shit, even if I think it smells awful.
I do give her those even smellier dog crumbles at night and sometimes treats here and there.
Her favorite are these sweet potato chews, which smell the worst of all of the shit she eats.
It’s not often that the lack of sleep catches up with me, but the past two nights spent staring at the ceiling have been nothing short of exhausting.
I feel achy and my stomach spins violently, threatening to purge itself of my dinner last night, just at the thought of the shame and horror in Gage’s eyes.
At the farce of justice that he’s gonna have to endure, because I know to the core of me, he didn’t do this.
We all do and seeing my brother so torn up is like having my own body shredded.
I lean my arms on the counter and dip my head low, pulling gulps of air into my fiery burning lungs. It feels like they’ve been soaked in gasoline and that all it will take is a single spark of that impotent rage burning in my gut to ignite me completely.
This is my club. Mine. And we are not fucking going down like this.