I hung up shortly after. I had to ignore Michael’s call. It certainly wasn’t from a lack of desire.
Rather, the timing just dictated that answering him would have to wait.
* * *
When I pulled up to Devon’s house, though, I felt relief. Her car was the only one there. There weren’t any bikes or strange cars even on the street, let alone by her house. I began to think something had happened with her dog, and she just needed company.
I rang the doorbell. I could hear Devon’s footsteps coming to the front door. I prepared myself to deal with a sick dog, a sick relative, or something else that Devon would need comfort for.
When she opened the door, I felt that I had my suspicions confirmed. She looked worn out and weary, her hair barely kept together, her eyes looking haggard, and her expression generally one of utter exhaustion. There was nothing about her that looked like she was in a good place.
“Hey,” she said.
“You alright?” I said as I stepped inside and kicked my shoes off.
“Yeah, I’ll show you what’s up.”
I followed her and turned to her kitchen table.
And that’s when I saw three large, tattooed men, wearing the jackets of the Fallen Saints.
Including...
“Oh, good, another Meade.”
Jason.
The one who murdered my sister.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I said.
I didn’t even care that there were two other Saints here. I didn’t care that we were outnumbered. I didn’t care that anything I did was a bad idea.
I went over and slapped Jason across the cheek as hard as I could.
“Ohhhhhhh!” he said, clenching his face for effect—as if mocking me. “Oh, yeah! That’s what I like to feel! Just some unbridled anger. Come on, little Kaitlyn. Hit me!”
I did so again. But this only caused him to laugh at me even harder. It took serious self-restraint to not hit him and not give him what he wanted.
“You’re only going to encourage him more,” one of the other Saints said.
When my attention turned to the man who had spoken, Jason violently shoved me with one hand. If not for Devon’s quick reaction, I probably would have slammed my head on the ground.
“It is in your best interest not to get us riled up,” the man said, taking two steps forward, towering over me.
He spoke menacingly but in complete control. He didn’t have anger to him, at least none that was visibly apparent. He didn’t sneer or scowl at me. Instead, he just... controlled everything by the looks of it.
He was clearly different from the others, not just in personality but in dress. While the others had black-and-gold cuts, he had on a red one. His silver hair and beard suggested years as a biker, and one who knew what to do in all situations.
“My name is Lucius,” he said. “We understand your little friend here was a rat. Trying to help the Black Reapers as she helped us? Did she really think she could get away with it? Did she really think she could play both sides of this battle without consequences?”
I backed up and stood in front of Devon. Lucius chuckled.
“An admirable gesture, but ultimately futile. We have more than one bullet, you know.”
I fought like hell not to show any reaction, but I was now convinced we were both going to be executed here. I just hoped they made our deaths quick.
“Fortunately for you, we will not use those bullets if we do not have to. Contrary to the lies that the Black Reapers may have given you, we are not violent monsters. We are only capable of being them if need be.”
