And immediately, I heard my father’s voice and the voices of two Fallen Saints.
I knew it to be true.
“... fucking double-crossed us?”
“I told you, I think they’re on to me!”Dad. “I couldn’t say anything. And no one important got hurt.”
“Except our fucking bikes!”
I knew exactly what they were talking about. While the Fallen Saints were at the hospital to tend to Lucius, we’d launched a strike to take out their bikes. We may have had some tech-savvy guys in the club, but there was no way this was faked.
“Look, I know, it’s not a great look. But play the long game. The long game involves some potholes—”
“Save your smartass speech.”
Dad loved his fucking metaphorical speeches.
My father let out a gasp, suggesting one of the Saints had punched him. I wanted to reach through the camera and break the neck of the Saint who had done that.
“We didn’t pay you so you could cover your own ass. We paid you so you could set up the rest of the assholes to die faster.”
“I know! But—”
But? Dad...
“No buts, old man. We gave you a pass after the brother came in. But we don’t care if the fucking Marines come in to help them next time. If the target isn’t dead by Sunday night, then you will be.”
And that was the end of the audio portion of the recording.
It was Dad.
No...
No...
No, no fucking way. No. No. No!
“No!” I yelled, throwing my phone to the ground.
I gasped for air. This was too much. This... this fucking shit had to be photoshopped or video shopped or whatever the fuck the term was. There was no way. No fucking way!
My father was a good man. A great fucking man! He’d raised me all on his own, and I had certainly never done anything this bad. I was a good guy... my father was a great guy...
This had to be fake. It had to be. Damage fucking control. Whatever the fuck you wanted to call it.
I grabbed my phone. It had landed on grass and had not suffered any damage. I found the email and deleted it.
This was a problem that I was not going to deal with right now. My father’s final days with the Black Reapers were not something I needed to worry about.
No. No. I was a Gray Reaper now. I was their Sergeant-at-Arms. I had a club to protect.
And I had a woman I liked that I needed to pursue in a couple days.
That was where my focus deserved to be.
I made a vow right there to not think about the Black Reapers. If that video came to mind, I’d purge it. I would not let this become a distraction.
You can’t escape this.
It’ll haunt you.
