Prologue
Cole Carter
Under one roof sat everyone who had ever been a member of the Black Reapers motorcycle club.
At the front of the church—in this case, a literal church, not the one that served as the meeting grounds for the Black Reapers—stood the most prominent recent defect from the Black Reapers. The man, once known as Pink Raven and now going by Phoenix, had every reason to hate a good half of the room. His father had died at the hands of a Black Reaper; whether justified or not, one had to imagine that Phoenix would never forgive under normal circumstances.
But these were no ordinary times.
“Father Marcellus…”
His voice trailed off. About six feet behind and to the left of the burly man my age, in an open casket, sat the body of the Black Reapers’ club chaplain, Father Marcellus. Despite having his life ended violently by the Fallen Saints, the chaplain looked as put together as I had ever seen him. And Father Marcellus was not like many of us, who preferred to wear cuts, white shirts, and not much more; he was a man who could easily slip into a wedding at any moment.
“Father Marcellus is the reason we are all here,” Phoenix said, pausing to take a deep breath. “Father Marcellus is the reason that all of us can be together in one room, standing in unity, rather than glaring at each other across the aisle.”
I looked down at the far side of the aisle. At the same time, my older brother, Lane Carter, did the same.
The past few months had changed Lane for the better, but the last week had changed us all for the worse. Lane didn’t look like he’d bothered to shave at any point, and the bags under his eyes looked weighed down by a feeling of sorrow and perhaps regret. He had his somewhat-new girlfriend by his side—I would always see anyone other than Shannon as new for him—but that only provided him someone to hold hands with, not someone to ease his suffering.
It would have been nice for me to have someone. But I had learned in the last year that the very act of wanting such a person, of hoping and praying that someone like that came around, was precisely what prevented me from having such a person. I would never be as gruff and tough as some of the other guys here, but I had learned a quiet sturdiness that didn’t make me such a yearning person.
“Father Marcellus showed me the power of forgiveness,” Phoenix said.
I shifted my gaze from Lane to Axle and Butch. Axle’s girlfriend, seated next to him, was pregnant. I recognized Butch’s girlfriend as one of the Black Reapers’ bunnies; I suppose she had upgraded herself to old lady status. Of course, on my side of the aisle was Jess, Phoenix’s new lady.
The front row was integrated. But I only needed to tilt my head slightly back to see that the rest of the church was also integrated, with Gray Reapers and Black Reapers seated together. The color of one’s cut did not matter here; it was I, actually, who had suggested we sit split down the middle at the front, the better to convey two sides of the same coin. I was glad to have been overturned.
“He showed me that holding on to bitter rage and anger…”
Phoenix paused.
“He told me that bitter rage and anger would never do me any good,” he said, but the tone of his voice had shifted. “But the fact is, I cannot think of the Fallen Saints and not have bitter rage and anger. I am not here to talk about the death that Father Marcellus helped me with; I am here to talk about the death of Father Marcellus, and I cannot help but feel an unbridled rage that... that…”
His breathing intensified. I saw Lane trying to decide if he wanted to stand up and cut Phoenix off. I tried to put my hands up and lower them to encourage Phoenix to calm down, breathe, and not lose control.
The problem with a passionate guy like Phoenix, though, was that he got swept up in his moods. And once that happened, you might as well have been trying to corral an actual phoenix without protecting yourself from its fire.
“I feel an unbridled rage to annihilate the Fallen Saints, and I think everyone in this room can agree with me on that,” he said, slamming his fist into the lectern. “Father Marcellus preached forgiveness and understanding. But when the devil shows up on your doorstep, he’ll manipulate your beliefs to his advantage. He doesn’t give a damn! He doesn’t!”
I stood up. I needed to cut Phoenix off before he lost control. We actually had a plan to address this—and it didn’t involve people losing control as Phoenix was.
I could feel people’s eyes falling upon me. Even I felt like I was taking a bit of a bold step, cutting off a speaker at a funeral. Sure, doing so at a club meeting was one thing: but at a funeral?
I limited my concern for it. Phoenix had gotten off-topic.
And when he saw me take just two steps, he seemed to realize what he had done. He took another couple of deep breaths, sighed, and wiped away a tear from his eye.
“Father Marcellus could not bring my father back, no one could, but he gave me something equally valuable—a sense of acceptance for that,” he said. “And for that, I’ll always love you, Father. Thank you.”
Phoenix walked away from the lectern. I offered a handshake, and he took it briskly. I could tell he wasn’t mad, just wanting to hurry back to his seat. He could have used that comfort of a woman that I lacked.But it doesn’t matter. The club chaplain’s funeral is not the place to be wishing for a woman to show up.
I remained standing and looked over to Lane. This was the real test, the real moment to see how much top-down club leadership could get everyone else in line. I had some optimism, but I also had a healthy dose of skepticism that two groups perhaps best described as “antihero outlaws” would not take kindly to any top-down leadership, even from within its own ranks.
Lane rose. Angela patted him gently on the back. Lane double-checked to make sure he had his notes, and then walked over to me. Together, we walked to the lectern, sharing a cause as closely as we had in a long, long time.
“Good morning,” I said.
“We stand here together as brothers, yes, but also as Presidents of two related but separated clubs that need to come together,” Lane said.
