Chapter Two.
Sapphire
“Drake Michaelson? That’s a name that’s become infamous in our world!” I said, sitting back in my chair.
“Yeah. If Phoenix is reaching out, shit’s bad,” Warden replied.
“She thinks he’s shouldering the blame for the deaths?” I asked.
“Yup.”
I paused and considered what I knew. “All those needless deaths, over three thousand of them? Yeah, Drake’s suffering a huge dose of guilt. All because a former founder decided he wanted something he wasn’t entitled to. I heard Fury’s own kid turned against him.”
“That’s true. Can Belladonna and Stitch help? I’d offer my guys, but someone like Drake will see that as me thinking he’s weak,” Warden stated.
That rankled, and I sat up, glaring at the wall. “You claiming women are weaker? Softer? That’s because we’ve got a pussy, we’re—”
“Shut up, Saph. Ain’t saying anything of the sort. Who pissed in your bed this morning? Wylde not giving you the good shit?”
“How’s Iona?” I retorted, and Warden snorted in amusement.
“Finished measuring your dick with me?”
“Whose is bigger?” I teased, and Warden chuckled.
“Back to the subject at hand. Will they meet Drake?”
“Yeah. Tell Phoe she comes to us. That’s non-negotiable. I’ll have Bells reach out. See what they can garner. It could be Drake Michaelson is having an existential crisis, which my guys don’t deal with.”
“Take care, Saph,” Warden said and cut the line. I texted Belladonna and told her to bring Stitch. We might have a very important client. Whatever. Phoenix Michaelson and her money didn’t impress me.
Phoenix
“Phoe speaking,” I stated, answering my private phone.
“This is Belladonna from Royal Harlots MC. I hear you’ve got a problem you need help with?” a woman said.
“Oh, thank God you called!” I gasped, sinking into an armchair. I was once more in my tower and watching Drake outside in the snow. Yet again, he wasn’t wearing a coat or jumper, and he’d freeze to death if I didn’t intervene.
“Wow, that English accent is strong,” Belladonna muttered. “Tell me what’s happening. Stitch is also listening in.”
“Phoenix,” Stitch acknowledged.
“Okay, I don’t know where to start. I’m guessing you heard about the war?”
“Everyone in the world knows about it. A MC that spread poison so wide it had over five thousand members marching on Rapid City? Girl, you’re famous for being a city that hadto kill American citizens to protect itself. Homegrown fucking terrorism right on our doorstep. Tell me what I don’t know,” Belladonna replied. She sounded a little brusque, but I needed her, so I’d make allowances.
“Drake struggled after our deaths were tallied up. Grey was a big hurt, our prospect who died. Another member, Calamity, nearly bled out from a throat wound. The funerals for the Unwanted Bastards were also soul-destroying…”
“That’s the MC that lost all almost its members?” Stitch asked.
“Yes. The other MCs also lost brothers, and we attended every funeral of the fallen allies. Drake had been badly wounded and discharged to ensure he attended them all. For several months, Drake was upset; who wouldn’t be? But nothing like he is now. About six months ago, I started noticing his behaviour. Drake began avoiding the clubhouse and gatherings. We’re talking about a man to whom family means everything.”
“Okay,” Belladonna muttered.
“He’s been spiralling ever since. Belladonna, it’s snowing here. Drake’s out there, no coat, no jumper, nothing. It’s like he’s courting ruin,” I said.
“Jumper?” Stitch asked, confused.
