Epilogue
It was a cooler-than-usual Monday night at my father’s place.
For now, this was the base of operations for the officers of the now-Black Reapers. My father refused to say he was a Black Reaper, but he didn’t argue for being called a Devil’s Patriot. It was the best that we could manage right now.
“We need a break,” I said. “Let’s face it. The man fucking placed a bomb in our clubhouse and blew up the whole fucking thing. This is not something that we just shrug and say we retaliate on. He’s clearly showing he has the ability to wipe us out.”
“And what the fuck does that look like?” Satan said, shaking his head. “Shit, I wake up in a coma to learn we’re hopeless? I know we’re not fucking reduced to that.”
We weren’t. We still had the Black Reapers on our side. And now that we had a fully formed alliance, we wouldn’t have to worry about fighting a war on two fronts. Maybe this would turn into a prolonged war-plus-civil-war, but for now, we had eliminated one concern.
But we were definitely facing an enemy that my father realized was now greater than anything we could handle on our own. Our chances may not have been reduced, but our egos definitely were.
“I don’t know; that’s why it would be a break,” I said.
“Fuck, kid, don’t tell me we’re relying on luck.”
“We’re going to create our own luck, but we do need it.”
Spawn didn’t say a word as he sat across from us. Upstairs, the girls were watching TV, far removed from us. We all agreed it was the safest place for them, but it was a strange fucking world to be living like we were in a very dangerous college all over again, everyone in one building.
I wasn’t exactly in love with what I was saying. I didn’t want to rely on luck either.
“Maybe we can turn one of those boys on them,” Satan said. “Find someone who wants to betray King.”
“Fat fucking chance of that,” I said. “Anyone within that club is—”
The doorbell rang.
The fucking doorbell rang?
Spawn, my father, and I all shared the same look. We stood up slowly, making sure we had our guns ready to fire at a second’s notice. We walked to the door very cautiously, Spawn and I taking positions to fire from angles if someone attacked my father.
My father opened the door.
And then immediately drew his gun.
But he didn’t fire.
“I know you want to shoot me.”
That voice sounds really familiar…
“You’d be extremely foolish to do so, though. I may be the only person who can help you right now.”
“The fuck are you doing, showing your face here?”
It wasn’t King. It wasn’t Crush. Prince? No, it couldn’t have been. There was no fucking chance Prince would risk it. Who the hell…?
“You think after everything that’s happened, I’d let myself get killed going back there? Fuck no. Really, I shouldn’t be coming to you either. But I know that while you may beat my ass, you won’t kill me. At least not without me getting a chance to explain myself.”
“Better start doing that, fucker.”
I tried to angle for a better look, but I couldn’t quite see.
“You won’t win. King doesn’t just have resources; he has connections that have resources. He’ll replenish his forces and resources five times over if he has to. You’re not going to beat him the way you’re fighting now.”
“We’re starting to get that fucking idea. Tell us something that won’t make me kill you.”
