So now, the club must change too.
Rolling my head, I stretch it from side to side, holding out my arms as Tups searches me for any hidden weapons, and JD does the same to Nate.
Once that’s done, Celina approaches with an old wooden box that she must have fetched, which holds identical blades in it. The challenge knives.
The last time they were used was probably fifteen years ago. That time, the President won, holding his role in the club.
I can’t let that happen tonight. Even if I have to die too, Nate Smith is going down with me.
Being the President, Nate gets to choose his knife first, spending way too fucking long deciding which one he wants to use and not even noticing when Celina doesn’t meet his eyes.
They’ve been on the outs since she found out what he did to Daniel, yet he still gives her arse a slap when she turns and steps over to me, like he still fucking owns her.
Moving to me, she holds the open box that now only holds one knife, her eyes flicking up to mine.
“Kill him, Ringo,” she whispers. “He’s toxic.”
My brows hitch at her bold words. I know they aren’t an attempt to get on my good side. I can already see how much she despises him, but it’s risky for a Doxy to wish death on a club brother without risking punishment.
She’s been his old lady for God knows how fucking long. Longer than I’ve been around. I don’t know the story of how they came together, but I always assumed she fucking worshipped him.
Maybe I was wrong.
“I’m intending on it,” I rasp, reaching into the box and taking the other knife. “But if it goes bad, take the girls to the Red Room in Redfield. Griffin Marx will protect you.”
She gives me a slight nod before stepping away, clearing the space between me and Smitty.
“Let’s get this over with. I’ve got some money to spend,” the cocky fucker hisses, and his words flip my switch, rage soaring to the surface, and without a second fucking thought, I lunge for him.
My blade slashes across his bare chest, leaving a bright red line that starts seeping blood, and he fucking gasps like a chick, like he can’t believe I actually did that.
And then… it’s fucking on.
He lunges and I dodge, slashing his arm as I spin away, but the fucker nicks my hip on the way through. We fucking dance around each other for a bit as the room erupts in support for each of us, getting a slash in here and there, my focus on his wild crazy eyes, and how fucking excited he looks to kill me.
Slashes of blood bloom on both of our torsos as we fight, and when Smitty slices through a few of the names on my inked death list over my ribs, he throws his hands up in the air, cheering like he’s fucking won.
Taking the opening, I lunge at him, not slashing this time, but stabbing his fighting arm.
He roars in agony as I plunge the blade in through skin and muscle before hitting bone, and he pants as spittle flies from his lips the moment I reef the fucking thing out.
“You fucking idiot!” he snarls. “You don’t know what you’re doing to this club. There’s more going on than you know!”
“Oh, yeah?” I snap as we dance around each other again. “Enlighten me.”
“You think I just randomly picked this land to buy?” He laughs like a fucking hyena again. “This land was owned by Terence and Viktoria Hill. They ran a fucking sex club out of this place.”
I dodge his now left-handed swing, which doesn’t even come close.
“I know all about the Vixen’s Lodge scandal, Nate. Tell me something I don’t fucking know.”
His eyes darken as a sinister glint flickers in his glare. “Banes isn’t just paying for your wife and her bastard kid.” He swipes awkwardly at me again, and again I dodge it. “He’s paying for the one last hard drive the cops couldn’t find hidden on the property.”
My dancing feet fucking still, and Nate’s smile widens.
“See, you don’t fucking know everything.”
“What fucking hard drive?” I snap, and the cunt waggles his brows.
