“I stand before you, your servant. I gave you an oath six months ago that I wouldn’t tolerate injustice and cover-ups. Those who lived through this American War have our heartfelt sympathies. My words and deeds can’t change what happened or bring the dead back. All I can do is ensure it never happens again while I live. This is a promise I give to you, and should I fail, you may strip my rank and titles, lock me up and throw away the key. Good day to you all.”
Winslow stepped off the podium and exited. Stunned silence filled the room before people began shouting questions and rushing out to report this.
Drake stared at the TV for a long time, turned on his heel and left the clubhouse. Phoe raced out, and Ace stiffly faced us.
“We’ll visit another day,” he muttered and walked out.
“That’s going to hit Rage MC hard,” Inglorious said as Artemis hurried out after her husband.
“Yeah. But they’re not responsible,” I replied.
“Some of the blame lies with them. They lost track of Fury; he was able to hide from Rage for years, all the while plotting and planning. The war came because Fury wanted Rage MC back. He thought he was entitled to it, and we bled for that.”
Inglorious’s eyes took on a faraway look, and Nanci slid under his arm. “Come on, lover, you ought to talk to someone.”
Inglorious nodded and let Nanci lead him away. Razor sank into his chair. There was no sign of Chill yet.
“What do you need?” I asked Razor.
“Nothing,” he said blankly.
“Brother—”
“Nah, I’m managing. Just give me time, Vortex,” Razor replied.
Being helpless wasn’t something I was used to, and then Amy slid under my arm. Her eyes gazed up at me, true belief in me shining in them, and she smiled.
“They know you’re there. Let them come to you,” she murmured, and I nodded.
“Okay.” I wrapped my arms around her and held on tight. The bombshell today would have repercussions not just across our state. Many would be affected. Damn Fury’s black heart to hell.
Amy – Two days later.
“What are you doing?” I asked as Chill stared at a piece of paper. He snatched it back before I could read it, and it piqued my curiosity.
“Nothing.”
“Liar. Show me.”
“No, go away,” Chill snapped and made shooing motions at me.
“I’ll call Vortex,” I threatened, and Chill glared.
“I’m working.”
“Double lie!” I exclaimed and yanked out my phone.
Chill snarled and slid it over to me. I read it, puzzled. “You write poetry?”
“Yes, now give it back.”
“Is this a secret?”
“Seriously? Amy, can you imagine what that lot would say if they knew?” Um, Chill did have a point.
“Chill, this is good,” I replied, tapping the paper. He snatched and shoved it in his pocket.
“You don’t tell a soul.”
