“Dad’s too focused on retaining power. When this is all said and done, I agree, we’re not Black Reapers, we’re Devil’s Patriots. We may not even need to fucking be Black Reapers during this time. But we sure as hell need to work with them.”
“You’re really fucking concerned about this?”
Sonny nodded.
“I am not afraid of King and his club. But I am honest. I’ve done the self-scouting. I’ve spoken to people in Las Vegas. You’re not just dealing with a club, but an entire operation. No matter how skilled or tough we are, we won’t win a battle alone. That’s not being a pussy; that’s just being realistic.”
“Fair enough,” I said, but now I could feel a little bit of concern kicking in. “Satan’s dealing with some girlfriend stuff right now. Apparently, something happened in her family.”
And my ex’s family.
“Shit, really? Come on, Dad.”
Never before had I heard Sonny refer to Satan as his father in conversation. It really drove the point home.
“Now’s not the time for love.”
“Sonny, there’s nothing we can do at this point,” I said, trying to cut off any thoughts of intervention before it was too late. “He’s gone to the girl. Let him be there. He put me in charge, but I’m happy to discuss things with you as you want.”
“No, it’s fine,” Sonny said. “Just…if there comes a point in church where it’s the three of us andSatansays anything about staying separate, I need to trust that you’ll take my side and say that’s a bad idea.”
It was a bad idea. But standing up to the club president was an enormous ask, even when it came from the son of the club president. I…
Fuck it.
“I’m on your side with alliances,” I said, “but do tread cautiously. I don’t need to tell you this, but in the time I’ve known your father, he’ll get more pissed at supposed in-house fighting than an outside threat.”
“I’m aware,” Sonny said. “Thanks, Spawn.”
With that, Sonny headed back to his bike and drove off. I was feeling a whole lot shittier about where we stood as a club now. Father and son were now on opposite sides of the most critical question facing us since, well, fucking ever?
That was a really bad sign for our health.
Division…
Just like Melissa and me.
My mind raced back to her. The shit she must be going through today. I sighed.
Before I could think twice about it, I grabbed my phone, pulled up her contact—even after all these years, I’d never deleted it—and started texting.
“I heard something happened, and I don’t know what, but I’m sorry it did. I also know I fucked up in putting you through everything with us. Hope things are as well as can be.”
As I typed “are as well” I got a notification that an unknown number had texted me. I flicked it away for the moment, but as soon as I finished typing my message to Melissa and hit send, I returned to that text. My hands shook as I read it.
“We know you are collaborating with the Black Reapers. We know you are joining forces. Two-faced negotiating will get you in trouble.”
Two-faced?
We’re not even negotiating with them.
It was one of King’s tricks. Because we’d spoken once with a messenger without beating his ass, suddenly, we had “negotiations.”
But whatever the literal truth of his statement was, there was an ominous undertone to the core of what he said.
Trouble was coming. And if we didn’t handle the trouble within our own ranks first, it didn’t matter how much we did for the trouble outside it—we’d be fucked.
