“Aye.” Dash slammed his hand on the table.
“Aye.” Romeo followed, and just as quickly, his father echoed it. They were out of turn, but the votes would be counted.
For those who were newer to the club, and the out-of-town Odin’s Fury members, the vote was simple, and an easy one to make. They voted with logic. Jackal had to go. He threatened their club as a whole, their brothers, and their businesses.
The decision seemed harder for those who once wore the Roughneck Rider patch. These men had known Jackal far longer. The man had to be in his seventies. Dash hadn’t a clue how long he wore the patch. However, that made the betrayal that much deeper. He knew club life. An excuse could be made for a newer member, a younger guy, someone who hadn’t done battle or even ridden long with his patch brothers. Jackal knew what it would come down to. He did it anyway.
Not one member of Odin’s Fury’s Ohio chapter voted against them. While they may have hesitated, as was to be expected, they knew the code of the brotherhood. They knew the laws of the club. They knew what came first, before friendship, before anything. The club came first.
With a slam of the gavel, Jackal’s fate was sealed. Odin’s Fury would hunt him down and end his life.
“Jackal don’t do nothing or go nowhere alone.” Cajun said as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “You got another vote coming up?”
Taking a deep breath, Clark fixated his gaze upon the insignia etched into the table. Odin’s profile with axes crossed behind his head. This was their club emblem. The weight of the presidency seemed particularly heavy at that moment.
“Jackal did not act alone,” Clark said on his exhale.
“Tut’s a fucking moron and always has been,” Mooky spoke up. “He has been in his father’s shadow since the day he was born. He can’t think for himself and never should have shared a patch with us grown ass men.”
Dash lifted his brows in surprise at that statement. He hadn’t gotten to know the guy that well. Tut did seem to follow his father around, as he did recall that just about every time he saw Tut, Jackal was near. The idea that Tut had earned his patch strictly because of Jackal didn’t sit well with Dash. That was not how clubs should be run.
Those who shared patches needed to be a particular ilk. Not everyone was cut out to be a brother. Sharing blood with a brother didn’t necessarily mean that a man could cut it for a patch. Legacy patching would need to stop immediately, if that was the case.
“Tut has joined with Jackal on this venture,” Clark continued. “So the same applies to Tut that applied to Jackal. He is disloyal, a traitor, and threatens our club.”
“Fuck it, I don’t need to hear anymore,” Cajun drawled. “Aye, send the fucker to Nástrond. This has been a long time coming.”
“How many of our brothers are involved in this?” Mooky asked as he looked around the table. “I don’t see anyone else missing.”
“As far as we know…” Clark twisted the gavel in his hand. “It’s just them. However, once the vote is finalized for Tut, I will open discussion for any information anyone has. I understand with all that has been going on, it may not have been easy to come forth with information. So, as long as you are loyal to your patch, just fucking talk.” Clark took another pause, as though to gather himself before he put the vote to the club. “I put forth to you, my brothers, the vote to send Tut to Nástrond.”
The vote for Tut completed far quicker than that for Jackal. The son of the long-term brother didn’t appear to have many friends in the club. A few of the Ohio men shared little snippets of how much of a weasel Tut had been. He owed four brothers money and screwed over another three by not completing some construction work on their homes as promised.
With a final slap of the gavel, Tut’s fate was sealed with his father’s. The two of them were enemy number one to Odin’s Fury, not only the Ohio chapter but all chapters. Wrong one, wrong them all. Fury forever, forever fury.
Church was long and somber. They didn’t address normal club business, review expenditures, or even update each other on the status of the money coming into the club. Those were normal church discussions. That meeting was about Jackal and Tut, and how to mitigate their threat.
While the men of the other chapters wouldn’t likely have a hand in it, their input was invaluable. Every club dealt with betrayal, unfortunately. At one point in time or another, in each chapter’s history, someone had stabbed them in the back, and was dealt the consequences. Suggestions were made along with offers of support. This was brotherhood. This was loyalty. This was something citizens would never understand.
There was a hell of a lot more to being a biker in a one percent motorcycle club than partying and pussy. These men were not only business savvy but also killers. A lot of them were former military, from different branches who had achieved various ranks. To wrong the club in the way Jackal and Tut had, meant they would be met with the full arm of biker justice, if for no other reason than to continue to set an example to anyone who questioned them that they will not tolerate such things.
Now, they had just one problem. No one knew where the two were. They hadn’t heard from the prospect who was sent to tail them. Whiskey hadn’t been back in touch. Both realizations sat heavy in Dash’s gut. He had a responsibility to his brothers, to Whiskey. While tragic, if something happened to the prospect, it wouldn’t be felt as deeply as if something happened to a patched brother.
