Turns out, Killer told his mother, Candice, to get an abortion when she claimed she was pregnant. He thought she was lying because she was drugged up, that, and Alice, Killer's wife, didn’t know he fucked someone else right before they got married as a last hurrah like an idiot.
Blaze and Crusher are half-brothers, something both were shocked at learning despite the fact the fuckers look alike. As far as I’m aware, they are still close just like they were in high school. Alice has even come out saying she wants to know Blaze. Blaze… doesn’twantto know her and Crusher won’t get involved anymore to show him loyalty.
I take another hit on my joint. Blaze ended up being born twelve weeks early and was lucky to survive despite of the number of drugs his mom did while pregnant. Killer was none the wiser because he thought she aborted his son and now the man wants fuck all to do with his dad, not that I blame him.
“Brother,” Blaze says deeply, and I sigh.
Fucker.
“I’m not a brother,” I remind him for the hundredth time as I pass him my joint.
He takes a hit of it before passing it back and after he blows out the smoke he rasps, “If you’re not a brother then neither am I because last I checked. I’m here for you and the rest of the club brats, for my little brother, and if you’re not going to be my Pres then I won’t be the road captain.”
I roll my eyes and take another hit of my joint.
It’s the same story every fucking time that I have gotten from all the brothers who are due to take over from the older generation.
If I don’t take my rightful place, they’ll all walk. It isn’t lost on me how none of them have taken their fucking spots, yet when they should have a few years ago.
They’re waiting for me when they shouldn’t.
I’m a fuck up. I spend more time inside a cell than I do out in the open. I can’t seem to keep myself outta trouble. Fuck, I’m ready to start a fight now, the day is slowly fucking drowning me.
Seven fucking years and I can’t shake off the guilt I feel for what I’ve done to my sister. Bringing that bitch into our lives will haunt me for the rest of mine.
Blaze sighs when I don’t reply to him, and he says, “Follow me, I have something to show you,” I raise a brow just as Cottom saunters over to us, butt fucking naked.
Fucks sake, she’s now going to be placed on probation.
“Hey, Cage baby,” she husks as she twirls her light pink hair in her finger. Blaze snaps, “Cotton, go and get some fucking clothes on before I show you the door! I’ve told you several times not to walk around fucking naked if you’re not on the stage!”
Cotton freezes, clearly not having seen her boss, before the fucker turns to me and growls, “Fucking move it, Cage, before I drag you!”
Okay then… someone’s moodier than I thought.
Huffing, I put out my joint, my buzz definitely gone, and I stand and salute Cotton. I’ll probably come find her in a bit, my plan isn’t getting derailed by Blaze and whatever shit he needs me to see.
Blaze opens his office door and gestures for me to go ahead, and I sigh, but do as he asks before stopping just in the doorway, and I groan out loud.
Son of a…
The officer brothers, along with the soon-to-be officer brothers, all stand inside ready for an intervention, and I shake my head.
The fact that Killer is here looking at me with determination just fucking proves how adamant Blaze is about me getting my patch. There is no way he’d willingly be in the same room as his dad otherwise.
Blaze shoves me slightly, getting me inside before he follows and shuts the door. The fucker leans against it, making me scowl at him, but he just smirks before a throat being cleared echoes.
I turn, ready to snap, but I freeze at the person who cleared their throat.
My mom’s teary hazel eyes lock with mine, and I tense up because they’ve brought in the fucking big guns.
Seven years and I haven’t seen or spoken to my mom. I refused when I was inside. I haven’t been to the clubhouse in seven years, haven’t even seen the property Dad had built for me, hoping to bring me home.
I killed her daughter, she shouldn’t want to be around me.
“Seven years,” she chokes, and I flinch. “Seven years since I lost not one but two kids,” she continues, ignoring my flinching, and I fist my hands, “I had to bury one while watching another self-destruct from a distance. Seven years later, and you still blame yourself, you are still cutting us, your family, out of your life. Sweetheart, I can’t cope anymore. I want my son back.”
“You need to listen, son,” my dad says firmly, “We’re all struggling without you, and I want my child back, your mother wants her son back, and it is time you come home!”
