“Phantom,” he mumbled, his shoulders dropping.
“It’s him, or Needles,” Fury says, making Wallen jump.
His eyes widen in horror. Understandable. Needles instills fear in anyone he meets. If there were such a thing as a second command system of the Disciples, behind bars, Needles is the leader. He runs that prison like his own personal playground.
He’s loyal to Nero, but he has leeway in there. He’s the kind of man who thrives on the inside and has no desire to get out. He’s more than happy to commit crimes behind bars because the alternative would be getting out and, for whatever demons he has inside him, Needles doesn’t want to do that.
Phantom is the kind of guy who draws you in with his charisma and sense of humor. When you’re on his good side, he treats you like a buddy, but get on his bad side and… well, Wallen knows who he is better off sharing a cell with, and he’ll be kept in line.
“The Kivisto’s don’t have any reach in the Baltimore prison system,” I tell him. “And Storm can’t get to you either. Phantom hasn’t forgotten him.”
Considering he’s the reason he is even behind bars.
“Don’t think you’re getting off lightly,” Fury says. “The second you fuck up, any protection will be withdrawn. And an enemy of the Disciples in there…”
“Becomes the biggest target,” Wallen finishes in a stilted whisper. He takes a moment to compose himself, then nods. “If you swear Stryker won’t come back in here, then I’ll tell you everything.”
“Jesus Wallen, do you have any idea how fucking offensive that is, you little prick?”
“Oh, shit no, I didn’t mean.” He shakes his head and holds his roped hands up toward Fury. “You’re just as… oh, fuck.”
“Tell us about the Demon Sinners.” I drag his attention back.
For the first time since I came in, Wallen looks confused. “What?”
Fury moves to my side so he can see Wallen’s face. Wallen shuffles in his seat in case Fury shows him heisas scary as Stryker. What he is really doing is studying his body language and facial expressions, making sure they match up with his words.
“Don’t fuck about with me, they’ve been seen in Baltimore.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” he shouts. “I swear to God.”
“You know how bad shit will get if another MC is in this city because Storm brought them here.”
“If he did, he didn’t tell me. I swear to God, Rebel.”
“You swear to God a lot,” Fury tilts his head. “You’re the least religious man I’ve met, Wallen.”
“It’s a figure of speech, but I mean it. If I had answers, I’d tell you.”
“You know who they are.”
He shakes his head, glances at Fury, then thinks better of it.
“Only the ones in Virginia, but I don’t deal with them. The Kivisto’s don’t like them. They steer clear of each other, some kind of agreement.”
I exchange a glance with Fury when Wallen isn’t looking, he’s too busy freaking out.
“And?”
“What?”
“What else?” Fury kicks him, and Wallen folds in on himself.
He reminds me of an armadillo, curling into a ball to protect itself, except he has none of the armored skin. Fury shrugs when I give a disapproving look.
“Storm reached out to Jackal a couple times, but I don’t think they are into anything together. I don’t know why they would be in Baltimore. They’re scary fuckers, I want nothing to do with that.”
“Jackal’s their Pres?” I ask. Wallen nods.
