Lovesick bitch.
He smells of fucking death and fermentation as he settles into the uncomfortable chair, and I refuse to meet his eyes as his last words still float around in my head.
We should’ve never let them take her. She was with Malik fucking Charles in that club, looking happy and fucking carefree. We handed over our family to the enemy.
I could see the love he had for her swimming in his eyes and it made me feel equal parts enraged and jealous. He was the one she was at the clubhouse fucking, I have no doubts, and he had no issue hiding all of it behind my back as I fought my own battles with myfamily.
Laith sits to my left, his beard now fully grown out and hiding those scars of betrayal beneath their thick bristles while his hair has grown, the ends hitting his shoulders in thick, dark waves. His dark eyes are fired up with anger and he’s staring right at me, almost like he’s challenging me. I quirk a brow and lean forward on the table, letting my elbows rest against the cool plastic surface and linking my fingers together. If it’s a fight he wants, I have no problem giving it to him. I’ve got a tidal wave of anger inside of me, waiting to be unleashed.
He finally averts his gaze, but I can see the firm set of his mouth, relaying his emotions. Laith has only backed down because he’s not wanting to start a fight, not because he respects me. I’ll have to fix that or else finish what his brother started.
“Looking a little rough around the edges, boys,” I say as I look around the table. Chip snorts at my observation and slowly shakes his head.
“We’re cooped up in this fucking warehouse without our bikes and slowly losing our sanity,” Chip groans into his hands as I really take in his appearance.
Chip’s usually coiffed-back hair is hanging around his ears in stringy, blond strands, and his skin is looking pale with lack of sleep. All of us are looking worse for wear and I’m hoping the news I have for them will perk them up.
My palm hits the table, startling everyone to look my way as I say, “It’s a good thing I come bearing good news.”
“Let’s hear it,Prez,” Laith sneers to my left and I swallow down the sudden flare of violence brewing in my stomach.
“First thing,”—I take a breath and try to look more animated than I feel—“there’s a large, eighteen-wheeler flatbed out front right now unloading our new bikes. I tried to keep it true to what we had before but better. Our funds took a hit, but I have a plan to recover them.” Chatter rises as excitement finally infuses the stagnant air around our heads. “Second, the clubhouse is nearly done. We can move back in a few days.” Now there are a few whoops sounding throughout the place, bringing a smile to my mouth, the stretch feeling foreign after everything that’s happened. “Third, we got the deal with the cartel, and starting next week, we’ll be moving their product through Arizona. This is huge, brothers, and it means we need to find ourselves more prospects.” Fists begin to pound along the table, the flimsy fucking thing shaking precariously, but I couldn’t care less because this is the highest we’ve been feeling since before… Just the thought has my mood crashing and fucking setting up my next bit perfectly. “Laith,”—I turn to the man whose disdain I can feel hot on the side of my head—“my sister is now an enemy of this club and seemingly in bed with Hell’s March. Your brother was right there with her the day she decided to torch our home. We need to start surveillance.”
“Surveillance for what?” Quinton asks, his voice low and cracking with dryness.
“War.”
It’s a single word, but most of my brothers’ faces light up with elation. I know this is what they’ve been looking forward to, something to drain our despair, an enemy to unleash our rage onto, despite the fact that my sister is now a part of their ranks.
Save for the two assholes to my left and right.
Both of them look like they’re being forced to eat shit and enjoy it. I’ve never seen faces so fucking sour and it’s turning my stomach.
“You will scope out your brother, and since he seems to be following my sister around like a weak bitch, you should see them together plenty. My slaughter room is waiting for some Hell’s March members, including sweet Genni.”
“Jaeger,”—Quinton clears his throat, making an attempt to sound a little less like a pussy—“you can’t torture your sister, think of Vic—”
“Vic?” I feel my body begin to vibrate with anger as I lean onto the table, bringing my face closer to his. “My father, you mean? The man whose bike she blew up? The man whose clubhouse she destroyed? The man whose legacy she tried to decimate? That Vic?”
“She was fucking taken from her home! No one tried to save her!” Quinton rises from his seat, the chair crashing to the cement floor with a loudbang.
The room quiets to a deadly hush, no other sound permeating the warehouse other than the rapid intake of Quinton’s breath. My body instantly heats with fury as I slowly stand from my chair and stare the fucking bitch in the eye. He is my best friend, the closest person to me, but right now, he’s acting a lot like the enemy. It’s a fucking slap in the face because he’s my Vice.
“She had the option to come home, Quinton.” The lie runs off my tongue like honey. So fucking sweet. “She wanted to stay there, fuck Laith’s brother, probably fuck every biker in the place instead of coming home.”
“Because she was taken!” he exclaims once more. “Why would she come back to a place where she feels unsafe?”
I drop my head, my chin hitting my chest in a slow exhale. I ready myself to tell the biggest lie and hope I look sincere. This is the only way to maintain my position and gain back the loyalty I feel waning. Especially from a glowering Laith on my left and a fuming Quinton in front of me.
“My father had a rare, incurable brain cancer. He found out about it six months before what happened in our house.” This time when the tears well in my eyes, it’s sincere. “He had plans to slowly integrate Genevieve into the club by making her President.”
“What?” Kennedy booms with a loud cackle. “That can’t be true.”
I reach into the pocket of my cut and grab the device, happy I found the evidence I needed within its saved files. I place Vic’s phone on the plastic tabletop and slide it down the center.
“Swipe the screen,” I instruct Kennedy. “Go to the videos and play the only one there.”
Brothers get up from their chairs to gather around Kennedy, except for Laith, Quinton, and myself. Quinton remains standing, his hands pressed into the table with his head hanging low. I can feel the self-condemnation pouring off of him in waves, its potency hitting me in the chest. I don’t know what it is about the pussy nestled between my sister’s legs, but it has put this man on his ass… hard.
