42. Mason
42
Mason
I pound on the door, knowing there’s a chance I won’t make it out of this alive. My brother is cunning and manipulative. There’s no telling who else he has on his side. But I’m not willing to risk the lives of anyone else, certainly not Davina’s.
I hear four beeps, then the door opens. Collin stands on the other side, gun raised and aimed directly at me. Charlie is standing near the bar, a man with an RBMC cut beside him. He has a knife to Charlie’s throat.
“You’ve been busy, brother,” I say, noting the other guys in the room.
Munsey was right. He sought out former RBMC members. Guys who were kicked out of the club or prospects who never made the cut to begin with. Smart. They have a vendetta against the club and he used that to his advantage.
“I decided it was time to take my rightful place as president,” he replies. “And as Charlie’s father.”
Charlie is being so brave, standing there perfectly still. He appears to be unharmed. I plan to keep it that way.
“Are you challenging me?” Collin arches an eyebrow. “You know that’s the way it works, right? If a member wants to take the presidency position, they challenge the current one. You aren’t a member, never were, but as the president , I’ll allow it.”
“The last time we fought, you dumped me in the ditch like I was trash.”
“So, you mean it didn’t go well for you?”
His eyes narrow in anger, but he lowers the gun. He could’ve shot me the moment he opened the door but he wants this fight. Wants the chance to beat me the way I beat him. Wants to prove to himself he can win.
“No matter what happens, if the kid tries to run, kill him,” he orders and takes the first swing.
I dodge it, putting my fists up in a defensive position. I’m not the same man I used to be. When we fought before, I was full of rage. The only thing on my mind was destruction, and it didn’t matter if it was mine or his. I didn’t give a fuck if we were both destroyed. But I have so much to lose now. I can’t fight recklessly.
Collin lunges at me and I throw a punch, successfully connecting with his jaw. He rubs it, grinning as he spits blood onto the floor. Without warning, he rushes me, crashing us both to the floor. So much for not fighting recklessly.
He throws punch after punch and I do the same. We’re both putting everything we have into this fight. Collin has bulked up over the years, easily maneuvering so that he’s on top with the advantage. Blood drains to the back of my throat and for a moment, it feels like I’m going to drown in it. I manage to cough it up, but he’s relentless.
Mustering all of my strength, I hit him with a southpaw and knock him off of me. I climb on top of him and start swinging. My turn. My knuckles are a bloodied, busted mess but I don’t stop until there’s a sharp pain in my side. Collin pushes me back and I fall over, gripping the knife he’s rammed into me. He staggers to his feet, laughing.
“Not this time, little brother! Not this time!” he yells.
I leave the knife in, afraid of the damage it may cause if I pull it out. I manage to get to my knees but don’t have the strength to stand. He relishes in the fact that he’s won.
“You were weak before. You’re weak now. I’m the rightful president! I should be the one wearing that patch!”
I listen to him rant about what I stole from him. The club. Davina. Charlie. I glance over at the kid, and it breaks my heart to see him crying. He will never forget this night. Neither will I.
Collin retrieves his gun and walks over to me, roughly gripping my face. Blood drips down his chin as he leers at me.
“How does it feel? How does it feel to know I’m the one taking everything from you this time?”
I quickly pull the knife from my flesh and jam it into his chest. “You tell me? How does it feel, Collin? How does it feel to lose again?”
He drops to his knees, calling for help. Begging for the men behind him to do something. To kill me.
“You always underestimated me, brother,” I say. “Those men are loyal to me. Why do you think it was so easy to get them to follow you? Because I ordered them to.”
He lets out a sigh of pain, and I grasp the handle of the knife, pushing it in to the hilt. His eyes turn glassy, a single tear rolling down his cheek. I lower his lifeless body to the floor, closing his eyes. Charlie rushes over to me, nearly knocking me over with his hug.
“Let’s go home.”