Chapter Ten #2
Vendetta took another step. Then another.
Only then did Eli raise the gun, but it was too late.
Vendetta was already on him, slamming into him with months of rage and pain packed into one hit.
Eli’s gun clattered to the floor as their fists started flying.
They crashed into the desk at the center of the room, papers flying, furniture cracking beneath the weight of unfinished business.
Vendetta didn’t stop. Fury had him using his fists and elbows to do damage, to release the fear and betrayal he’d suffered with a noose around his neck.
He was so lost to his rage he barely heard Eli yell. Barely felt the sting of his knuckles. Grabbing Eli by the collar, he drove him into the wall.
“You left me in the woods to die,” Vendetta growled, nose to nose with him. “You hung me like a fucking traitor. For what? For telling the truth?”
“You were tearing us apart!” Eli yelled, dazed and bleeding. “You were gonna tear the club fucking apart.”
“No.” Vendetta’s voice broke, low and raw. “I was trying to stop you from selling kids to fucking perverts. That’s all I ever tried to do. You’re the one who made it about power.”
Eli pushed off the wall and swung. Vendetta caught it midair and dropped him to the floor with one brutal punch. Eli didn’t move after that, and the world started slowing down.
Vendetta stood over him, breathing hard, fists still clenched. Every nerve in his body screamed for closure. For justice and blood.
He heard footsteps coming up behind him. Ripper with Axel, Outcast, and Snow. Eli’s breathing was ragged, the way his hand pressed into his ribcage told Vendetta he’d broken some ribs. Fucking good.
Vendetta stared down at the man who’d destroyed him. The man who’d named him traitor. The man who’d killed Tank. Raising his booted foot, he was ready to finish it, end it all. But something in him paused. It wasn’t weakness, and it sure as fuck wasn’t mercy.
“I should kill you,” he said. “I really want to fucking kill you for what you’ve done… But I won’t.”
Eli coughed up blood, looked up, confused. “Why?”
Vendetta leaned in, voice low and sharp as a blade. “Dylan may not be here with us, but I’m here for her just as much as I am for Tank.”
He grabbed Eli by the collar again, dragging him upright just enough so their eyes locked.
“You don’t even honor your own blood,” Vendetta snarled.
“You killed your son. I didn’t give a damn about Babyface myself.
But deep down, you knew what he was. A fucking monster in the making.
Just like you. Maybe worse. And you were fine with it, as long as he followed orders and kept your hands clean. ”
His voice dropped, guttural now. “But Dylan? Turning out your own fucking niece? You let men fucking circle her like dogs. You sold her off like a piece of meat because she was inconvenient and some middle-aged fucker from Sinister Skin wanted to get his dick wet. But she wouldn’t bend the knee.
” Vendetta shoved him back in disgust. “You betrayed her. You betrayed me. And you betrayed this whole damn club.”
Ripper came up beside him, holding the pistol Eli had dropped. He offered it to Vendetta grip first.
Vendetta took it, feeling the weight of cold metal in his palm. But he didn’t lift it. Instead, he stepped back. He didn’t want to explain to Dylan why he had her uncle’s blood on his hands, no matter how much the fucker had it coming.
“He’s done,” Vendetta said. “Drag him out of here. I want the whole town to know he fell on his knees --”
CRACK.
When the single gunshot ripped through the room, Vendetta turned.
Shade lowered his rifle, calm and unflinching, his eyes fixed on Eli’s now dead body.
“I respect your choice, brother,” Shade said.
“But that was for the Cottonmouths. He betrayed this club. He left you hanging in the woods like garbage and told us you ran.” Shade’s tone never rose, but it was heavy with judgment.
“And there’s only one punishment for a brother who breaks that deep.
That’s our law. He made his choice the second he tried to bury you and burn everything we stood for. ”
Vendetta didn’t move and couldn’t speak for a second. What Shade said was right, and he nodded his understanding while he tried to ignore the part of himself that was glad the fucker was dead.
“Let’s wrap this up,” Vendetta said finally.
* * *
Vendetta
The compound’s main room still smelled like gunpowder and sweat.
Blood stained the concrete in two places.
Eli lay under a tarp in the corner, along with Trucker, Nate, and one other of the Cottonmouth loyalists.
Their deaths had shaken the foundation of an MC already in turmoil. But the club wasn’t broken.
The remaining Cottonmouths stood silent, clustered around the space like men waking from a long, hard nightmare.
Some had blood on their knuckles. Some had tears in their eyes.
All of them stared at the man standing before them with a scar around his neck that permanently marked the damage Eli Crizer had done.
Vendetta stood tall in the center of that gathering, Razor, Shade, and Ripper flanking him. The Hounds loomed at the edge, all quiet but watching. He saw respect in their eyes, loyalty earned.
“You see the scar,” Vendetta said, pulling down the collar of his shirt slightly.
“So now you know the story’s real. Eli and those loyal to him hung me for disagreeing with him.
For saying we were better than what he’d turned this club into.
” He looked around the room, locking gaze for a long moment with each man.
“Four of your brothers are dead, maybe more, because they backed a snake who sold women and kids. If any of you are still loyal to Sinister Skin or think selling girls is a justifiable hustle, I want you gone. Now. Don’t fucking wait for another war. ”
Silence. A few of the Cottonmouths exchanged heavy glances, but no one left.
Vendetta gave a small nod. “Then let’s be clear. The Oak Grove chapter of the Cottonmouth MC is done with trafficking. We’re shutting that shit down, starting here. Starting now.”
Razor stepped forward, arms folded. “If that’s your mission, then the Hounds in Mercy have your backs.”
Vendetta nodded. “We wouldn’t have made it through that gate without you,” he said, meeting Razor’s gaze.
“You didn’t owe me a damn thing, but you showed up anyway -- and not just for me.
For something bigger. Something you kept out of your town.
” He looked around at the Hounds gathered there.
Men he’d bled beside and who hadn’t run when things got ugly.
“Mercy’s got some of the toughest bastards I’ve ever known,” Vendetta continued.
“And I’ll tell you this right now, we’re not looking to build empires here.
But we are looking to burn down the ones built on blood and fear.
If that’s the kind of war you’re willing to fight…
” He paused, then offered Razor his hand. “… then we’re brothers now too.”
Razor stepped forward without hesitation and gripped his hand hard. “Welcome to the war.”
Ripper exhaled and stepped up beside Vendetta, glancing toward Eli’s covered body. “He had it coming. We all knew it. We just didn’t want to be the ones to say it.”
Shade stepped into the center, scanning the remaining Cottonmouths with his usual quiet dominance. “Our club needs new leadership,” he said. “And not just a patch and a name. We need someone who already bled for it. Someone who already died for it.”
He looked at Vendetta. “Tank’s dead. But you, Vendetta, you came back to finish the fight. I nominate you to be our new president. If anyone’s got a problem with that, speak now.”
Nobody did. Not one man stepped forward. Not one voice rose in protest. The silence rang louder than a gunshot.
Shade took a slow breath, then turned toward the group like a judge passing sentence. “Vote. Vendetta for president. Show of hands.”
The response came without hesitation, raw and unanimous.
Every Cottonmouth hand went up with yells of “Vendetta for president!” and a couple of “Hell yeahs.” One man thumped his chest. Another tilted his chin in a silent nod, eyes locked on the scar around Vendetta’s throat like it was a badge of honor.
It was done, the shift rolling through the room. A corrupt legacy had been buried under gunfire and truth. What remained was rough-edged hope, but it was enough for a new start.
Vendetta looked around the room, at the faces of men who’d been twisted by Eli’s lies and finally pulled back from the edge. They were tired and bloodied, but still dangerous men who stayed for the right reasons. And they had chosen him.
Giving a slow nod, Vendetta let the weight settle on his shoulders like the cut on his back. It felt heavier than it used to… but it still fit.
“Tank died out in those woods,” he said.
“Alone. Betrayed. Strung up for speaking out against what this club was becoming.” His gaze swept across them.
“But I didn’t stay dead. I crawled out of that hole with a promise to myself.
If I made it back, I wouldn’t let that shit stand. Not in my name. Not in yours.”
He paused, carefully considering his words.
“I’m Vendetta now. And this club? This patch?
It’s getting a second chance in Oak Grove.
If you stay, you’re going to bleed for it.
There are some dark days coming, brothers, while we get this shit out of our town.
It’s going to be a fight every day. No more selling people.
No more letting predators call the shots.
This is your last fucking chance. If I catch any of you still doing that shit from this moment on, you’ll end up like Eli. ”
Still, no one moved.
“Good,” Vendetta said, jaw tight. “Then let’s rebuild this MC.”
Ripper clapped him on the back. “Cottonmouths, reborn,” he said with a grin.