“You cannot understand,” he said. “He is like a god. It was not just arrogance that said that.”
“No man is a god,” I said, but the words came out fearful, not meaningful.
Crush let out a “hmm” but said nothing more. Silence of several minutes passed as Crush stood dutifully by the door. A couple of times, I tried to engage, but Crush never looked my way.
And then, finally, the door opened. A younger man with shorter blond hair entered. Without him saying a word, just as I had known who was King, I knew this was his son.
“Prince,” Crush said with what sounded like a hint of antagonizing. “What is King’s bidding?”
“I have an order from my father,” Prince said, with the word “father” said in disgust.
They really do hate him. They’re just too afraid—
“Gangrape and torture our prize.”
Asher
It was just before midnight, and we’d made our way back to Las Vegas.
A part of me was massively annoyed that we’d even made our way back down to Phoenix in the first place. I got that everyone wanted to center around Satan’s house, but this was no fucking time to play politics. This was the time to rescue my wife.
Even for those who didn’t know Callie, a fucking innocent woman was at risk. Why the fuck wouldn’t they want to hurry the hell up and get her to safety? Why couldn’t we have just moved out ourselves?
Reinforcements. Get more people together. Collaborate and make sure you’re ready.
But the rational answer didn’t matter. Fuck. I would have gone in on my own and attempted a solo rescue if we’d taken any fucking longer.
Too late now. At least pretty much any Reaper of significance was here right now.
I stood by the entrance, ready and anxious to go. Everyone else was getting organized, figuring out attack units—our size had increased well past the two units we’d made in Phoenix—but I was a lone wolf, happened to have been brought into the pack. I knew what I needed to do, and when we got there and I saw Callie, all bets were off.
I wouldn’t fucking throw the Reapers under the bus, but my priority was most certainly not them. It was her.
My wife.
“You all right?”
I pulled out of my anger and focus to see Cole standing to the side. I’d known what Cole looked like as far back as a few years ago, when news about the Black Reapers and the Fallen Saints had gone national and been its own controversy before it died out shortly thereafter. Back then, he looked like a man, and he still very much did.
But the years of violence, uncertainty, and loss had made him look older. I suspected that for many of us, this lifestyle had aged us much faster. I knew of people twenty years older than me who had days looking younger than I did. I was not a man who would have youth on his side for long. None of us were.
“I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“You came along for your own skin at first?”
I chuckled.
“That obvious? What are you getting at, Cole?”
“Nothing important,” he said. “But you should know I know what it’s like to be the lone wolf. The discarded man who hides from society. It’s always better being a part of a group.”
I scoffed.
“I don’t give a shit about that right now, Cole. I’m just here to save my wife. After that, whatever the fuck we need to do, we’ll figure out.”
“As you should,” Cole said. “It’s like we said back in Phoenix. We’re brothers, but we’re also driven by love. Everyone, not just MCs, is. Without it, we’d just be a bunch of fucking savages beating the shit out of each other until it was last man standing.”
He sighed.
