Mason stared me down, breathing, bleeding, trying to shake off the swelling. He reached into his pocket and, for some strange reason, grabbed his phone. He went through it a bit before holding it up. A dial tone rang.
“Hello?”
A woman’s voice.The one that got raped.
“Rachel, does the name Spawn or Corey Dennison mean anything to you?”
“How the fuck do you…”
But it hit me as I asked the question.
King had told him.
He’d done so much to tear us apart that we didn’t even have the energy or awareness to realize just how much he was splintering the two clubs apart.
“No, why?”
“That’s all I needed to know, thanks. I’ll call you later.”
Mason hung up, put the phone in his pocket, and stared me down. He stayed, however, where he was.
“You’re good,” he said. “But you’re not my friend.”
“I don’t want to be your friend, you fucking idiot,” I said, spitting blood on the ground. “Don’t you fucking get it? King told you this shit so this would happen. It’s a fucking miracle I didn’t kill you. And he told you my real name. You got suckered right into it.”
Mason didn’t look convinced.
But behind him. Lane, Cole, and Brock all did. And that was really all that I gave a fuck about.
“We were on the verge of negotiating a deal of some kind,” Cole said. “We’ll resume that as soon as we can. Let’s get out of here for now, though.”
Mason glared at me. I didn’t care. He could hate my guts as long as he fought by my side when the time came.
But it was revealing just how much King would attack without the use of bullets or weapons. Who needed to attack when he’d just let us splinter from the inside?
And what was most concerning to me, a thought that only came once the Black Reapers were out of sight, was that if he was willing to use other bikers, our own supposed allies, for his purposes, what would he do if he knew Melissa or Hailey were attached to us?
And if he did know, how soon would something happen?
