by J, Bella
My guess, he was pretty fucking pissed.
Granite walked over to where Slither hung like a lifeless goat. “Dutch, help me get this fucker off. We need to get this place cleaned up, stat.”
I kept rocking back and forth, Neon still crying even though her sobs had quieted down some.
Onyx turned and glanced down at her. “She okay?”
“Yeah, man, she’s good.”
Granite and Dutch unchained Slither, his body collapsing on the ground behind me. But I refused to move since the only thing that mattered to me was Neon. Hell could come down around us, and I still wouldn’t have let go of her.
Granite wiped his hands down his shirt. “We need to get Neon out of here.”
“Jesus, Ink,” Onyx started, ignoring Granite. “Do you have any idea how much you fucked up here? Huh?”
“Does it fucking look like I give a shit?”
“You heard Crow. You were fucking there when he said no one touches this son of bitch but him.” Onyx seethed, his voice growing louder and his anger burning like fucking lava behind frozen eyes.
“You knew, Onyx.” I clenched my teeth. “You fucking knew there was no way in hell I could let someone else kill this bastard. You fucking knew!”
“This is not about you. Don’t you get it? This is about all of us, the fucking club. You risked everything, every fucking thing, and for what? To be the one who kills him?”
“No!” My anger slammed against the concrete walls. “Not me. Her. Neon. I did all of this so she could kill him, so she could fucking take back just a tiny goddamn fraction of what this motherfucker took from her. This is not about me, or you, or Crow, or this goddamn fucking club! This is about her, and no one else.”
“Stop!” Granite stepped between me and Onyx, facing his brother. “You two can chew each other’s asses later. Right now, we need to get her out of here and this goddamn place cleaned up.”
Onyx glared at me over Granite’s shoulder. “You fucked up, man. You fucking fucked up.”
My jaw clenched. “I. Don’t. Give. A fuck.”
“Motherfucker!” Onyx tried to launch past Granite, wanting to come at me with balled fists. But big bro was like a giant fucking brick wall. And while Onyx glowered at me with an angered passion, I stared at him with a fucking grin on my face.
Onyx bit his lip. “You have no idea what the fuck you’ve done.”
“Oh, I know exactly what I did, and I’ll fucking do it again.”
“Are you insane?”
“Stop,” Neon whispered, but I kept my fury directed at Onyx.
“You’re a fucking hypocrite, you know that? If I hadn’t taken him from that room the day we caught him with Wraith, you would have killed the fucker yourself.”
Onyx’s mouth snapped shut, his eyes telling me I hit the nail on the fucking head.
“You would have killed him yourself, Onyx. And you can’t deny it.”
His mouth pulled in a straight line with an angry snarl. “You—”
“You two need to shut the fuck up.” Granite’s voice was a goddamn sonic boom, but Onyx didn’t even flinch. He merely glared his way.
“You, brother, need to back the fuck off. You are not the president anymore. I am. So, you better step out of my way. Right. Now.”
“Stop!” Neon screamed, and I felt a hard tug against my back. It happened so fucking fast, I couldn’t even blink. I didn’t hear the gunshot, my ears just popped, and a deafening ring tore through my head. Instinct took over, and I pulled myself over Neon, my body enclosing around her, as the only thing I cared about in that moment was protecting her.
Time stood still, only chaos screeched through the silence that echoed around us…right before Granite roared. “No!”
Still covering Neon with my body, I opened my eyes, and the first thing I saw was him. Dutch. On the ground, a river of crimson slowly flowing from his body.
It felt like forever and a day while I just stayed there unmoved, watching Granite and Onyx scream, yet I didn’t hear a single sound.
I looked to the side, Slither pushed halfway up on his elbow, holding a gun in his hand, his finger still on the trigger.
My mind was cracked, the present severed, and I was frozen, immobilized…until reality shocked through me with the crack of another gunshot. I didn’t even flinch when I witnessed Slither’s skull crack open, blood splattering all around me. Within a single heartbeat, the ringing stopped and chaos erupted.
“Jesus. Fuck!” I heard Granite’s bouldering voice and turned to look in front of us.
My gaze immediately fell on Crow, standing with his gun aimed directly at Slither. With a curled lip and an icy stare, Crow seemed larger than fucking life as he glared at Slither’s now dead body. The pleasure he felt from pulling that trigger was smeared right across his motherfucking face.
Neon moved beneath me, and I shifted. “Babe, you okay?”
She nodded. “What happened?” But she froze as her gaze fell on Dutch lying lifeless in a pool of blood. “Oh, Jesus. No.” She tried to get up. “Dutch. No. No. No. No.”
“Bane, get her out of here,” Crow ordered his sergeant-at-arms, pointing at Neon.
I pushed her aside, putting my body between her and the fucker with the deadly blue-eyed stare, his dark hair draping over his eyes. “Touch her, you fucking die.”
“Don’t worry, Ink,” Crow started, and I glared in his direction. “My man won’t hurt her. You have my word.”
I looked at Granite, and he nodded, a silent way of telling me to let Neon go with them—his eyes urging me to keep my fucking shit together.
Reluctantly, I leaned back, but as Bane reached for Neon, I grabbed his arm, pulling him down toward me, seething through my motherfucking teeth. “If you so much as hurt a single fucking hair on her head, I will hack your spine out of your body with a motherfucking axe. You feel me?”
The fucker smiled, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’d love to see you try.” With a jerk, he yanked his arm out of my hold. “But don’t worry, your bitch ain’t my type.”
He grabbed Neon, and I got to my feet. “You’ll be okay, baby. I swear.”
Her cries were never-ending, and she couldn’t take her eyes off Dutch, Bane practically dragging her from the room. It took an insane amount of self-control to not grab the shears and cut his goddamn hands off. But I knew Crow. He might have been a class-A motherfucker, but he was man of his word. No one would touch Neon.
Once Neon was out of the room, I rushed to Dutch, pulled my shirt off and pressed it against his chest, trying to stop the bleeding. “Jesus, man. What the fuck happened?”
Crow stepped up with his fancy fucking leather boots, and I could hear the sound of the two dice he toyed with in his palm. “Slither was aiming at Granite when Dutch jumped in, taking the bullet instead.”
I glanced from Crow, to Granite’s pale face, and then at Dutch. His body jerked, eyes glazed and blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
Granite grabbed Dutch’s shirt, tugging at it. “What the fuck, man? Why did you have to do that?”
Dutch’s eyes shot up to Granite. “It was either you or me, brother.” He coughed. “And I made sure it wasn’t you.”
“Fuck! Dutch, you need to hold on, okay? Don’t you fucking dare die on me. You hear me?” Granite placed his hands on Dutch’s face, turning his head to face him. “You hear me? Do you fucking hear me, Dutch? You hold the fuck on.” Granite sucked air through his teeth. “Let’s get you to a hospital.”
I kept putting pressure on his chest, trying to keep the wound sealed as best I could. “Onyx, get Doc down here now.”
Onyx pulled out his phone with his bloodied hand, but he didn’t even have a chance to dial the first fucking number when I felt Dutch’s chest rise and fall beneath my hands, and I knew that was his last goddamn breath.
His head lolled to the side, eyes instantly glazed and empty. He was no longer there. Dutch was gone. He was fucking gone.
“God, no. Ink, what the fuck is happening? Dutch?” Granite leaned over him. “Dutch, stay with me, brother. Stay with me.” The desperation in Granite’s voice was heartbreaking.
I let go, removing my hands from Dutch’s chest, and fell back on my ass. Granite kept touching him, trying to find a pulse, yelling at him to not die. But Dutch was already dead. He was already gone, his breaths replaced with Granite’s desperate pleas for him to wake up.
Wake up.
Wake up.
Don’t die.
I looked over at Onyx, who stared at me, both of us knowing Dutch was gone. It was unreal. Like a goddamn nightmare I was hoping to wake up from. But the pain I saw in Onyx’s eyes made it real since there was no way a nightmare could portray such pure, undiluted, heartbreaking pain.
Granite’s pleas quieted, his voice softening into a trembling murmur. He fell back, the look of disbelief a casting shadow on his sullen expression. Silence settled around us as if time had stopped. Nothing or no one moved…except the steady flow of blood that pooled around Dutch’s body—the body of our VP and friend. Our fucking blood brother. It was too surreal, like a goddamn nightmare playing off in front of us on mute.
My heart cracked. My bones ached. My chest ripped open.
All three of us stayed close to him, his blood reaching our shitkicker boots. I couldn’t believe how everything got shot to shit within less than five fucking minutes.
“My gun,” I muttered, disbelief still clouding my mind. “Slither shot Dutch…with my gun.” There was no stopping the blame from settling heavily on my shoulders.
Granite cleared his throat. “That bullet had my name on it. It was meant for me, and as always, Dutch and his stubborn fucking ass just had to take the fall.” His voice broke as if he choked on the pain, on the grief. I had seen a lot of fucked-up shit in my life, but none of it was as hard to witness as seeing Granite barely holding it together.
Crow’s boots squeaked on the tiles, his strong presence demanding our attention. “You have forty-eight hours to mourn the loss of your VP. After that, I will collect.”
He turned, and Onyx shot up to his feet. “And what is it you’ll be collecting, exactly?’
Crow turned, green orbs of power glowering directly at me. “Him.”
If this wasn’t the most perfectly fucked-up moment in the history of the Kings, I’d be on my feet and chewing his ass by saying something stupid to provoke him even further. But my mind was nothing but a pit of darkness, and I couldn’t form a single coherent sentence even if I tried.
Onyx stepped up to Crow, every line on his face painted with grief. “You shot him. In the end, you were the one who killed the fucker. You got what you wanted. There’s no reason for you to fucking collect anything.”
“He,” Crow pointed directly at me while keeping his eyes fixed on Onyx, “had the fucker all this time when he knew I was out for blood. And in my books, that’s a classic act of betrayal.”
“No.” Onyx stood firm. “You wanted blood, and you got it. You killed him. There was no betrayal.”
Crow smirked, amusement plastered on his hardened face. “Either you hand over your SAA to pay for his crime against me and my crew, or you’ll have a new war on your goddamn front porch.” Crow pushed a finger against Onyx, making a show of his dislike and lack of respect. “If it wasn’t for all the years of business between us, I wouldn’t even give you the forty-eight hours to mourn. So, bury your VP, and then hand over your SAA.” He leaned closer to Onyx, his top lip curled. “Do not fuck with me, Onyx. You’ll lose.”
The threat weaved through his words. Like poison eating away at your flesh, there was no ignoring Crow’s warning. Every man in this goddamn room knew Crow always made good on a threat. Always.
20
Neon
Just when I was sure I had no more tears left to cry, something happened to knock me on my ass, squeezing more pain from my soul to wet my cheeks. For a moment—just for a fucking moment—I thought I was free of him. I thought the world was finally rid of the evil that clung to Slither’s blood like a virus, and I let my guard down for one goddamn second. I allowed myself to be swept up by the freedom his demise brought me, to let the relief flow over me like I had just been given another chance at life. It was in that one second of complete vulnerability, thinking I had nothing more to fear, that Slither managed to give us one final ‘fuck-you’ by pulling that trigger one last time. And now I didn’t even know whether Dutch was dead. All I saw when Crow’s SAA dragged me out of there was blood. So much goddamn blood, it was hard to believe there was even half a chance he’d be able to get up from that.
Sitting on the sidewalk on the street across the rundown building, I wiped my face with the back of my hand before looking up at the guy who hauled my ass out of that room.
Bane. That was the name on his cut under his sergeant-at-arms tag. All these goddamn Sixes had the same look in their eyes—like they were gods sent to rule and to just do whatever the fuck they wanted.
The warm breeze ruffled his dark hair cut short at the back, longer at the front. His cold stare of electric blue remained fixed on me, blatantly not giving a shit whether I felt uncomfortable under his gaze.
I toyed with a piece of broken glass before tossing it on the asphalt. “Is he dead? Dutch?”
He shrugged, not saying a word, just fucking staring at me. Leaning against a lamppost with his designer jeans and expensive shitkickers, he sure as fuck didn’t look like any crew member I’d met. But that was what made them different, the Sixes. Or, more correctly, the Gods of Six. With their sleek Ducatis and fucking manicured wardrobe, they were all just too damn good-looking, soaked in wealth and decorated with a fuck-ton of money.
I never liked these assholes. They always gave me the fucking creeps whenever they met up with the guys at The Hangman. Behind those charismatic smiles and perfect postures hid a whole lot of wicked shit.
Rubbing my shoulders, I lifted my face to the sky. Dusk was starting to settle, the sun slowly retreating. “Could you at least try to find out if our guy is alive or not?”
“Do I look like a fucking messenger boy?”
“No, but you look like a dick.”
A smirk tugged at the edges of his mouth. “I think I might have been wrong.”
“About what?”
He glanced at me from under his lashes, those blue eyes all shiny and shit. “You might just be my type.”
“Dream on, Armani boy. Your hands ain’t dirty enough.”
He smirked, and true as fuck, chills ran up my spine. With that half-smile of his, he might as well have told me he had slaughtered an entire family with their kids and two-day-old puppies yesterday on his lunch break.
The broken door of the warehouse creaked, and Crow came out first—his demeanor that of a motherfucker who thought he owned the goddamn ground he walked on. Two more of his men flanked him, but there was no sign of Granite, Onyx, Ink…or Dutch.
I pushed myself off the ground, the pit of my stomach hollow and my skin coated in dread. Where were they? Why weren’t they coming out?
Crow crossed the road and headed directly at me, his stare making me feel two feet tall. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” A part of me wanted to ask him why the fuck he cared, but daring the devil one more time today might not be the best idea.
Crow nodded. “Your man did right by you, making that snake pay for what he did. Unfortunately, by doing right by you, he crossed me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Club business. But if I could give you some advice, make the best of the next forty-eight hours, and don’t wallow too much on your friend’s death.”
The words slipped from his mouth like my friend’s death was yesterday’s news, and not something I just heard.
“Jesus.” I stumbled back, his words one giant blow to the gut. “He’s dead? Dutch is dead?”
Crow nodded, his expression void of any emotion. No remorse and zero fucking sympa
thy. “For a man like him, he died with dignity, saving Granite’s life.”
My ass hit the pavement yet again, my palms covering my face. “This isn’t happening.”
“Like I said,” he continued with his monotone voice, “don’t dwell on it too much. Enjoy the time you have left with your man.”
My eyes pulled into slits. “What are you talking about?”
He reached into his pocket, pulling out two dice and toying with them between his fingers. “He has two days to give himself over to us.”
“What?”
“Two days, woman. Make it count.”
I pushed myself up, ready to force my face all up in his. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
As if I was nothing but a petulant child, he held his finger up, silencing me. “Be careful,” he warned. “I’ve already been lenient once. It won’t happen again. Like I said, Ink crossed me. I can’t let that go unpunished. The dice will decide his fate.”
I squinted, my mind a jumbled mess. “What in the name of Christ are you talking about?”
Crow scoffed. “I’ll give it to you, woman. You have balls. I can see why a man like Ink would want you.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
He smirked. “Coming from me, yes.”
He turned then nodded to Bane, all of them headed to where their Ducatis were parked. He just turned his back on me like I wasn’t worth another second of his time, like we didn’t just have a conversation that confused the fuck out of me.
More tears wet my cheeks, reality starting to set in. Dutch was gone. Ink was in deep with the Sixes. And I was out here all alone, not knowing what I should do next.
Sobs erupted, and my legs gave way beneath me as I fell ass first onto the pavement, my face buried in my palms. The sound of a hog broke through my whimpering cries, and I looked up just as Manic parked his bike in front of me.
We only had to stare at each other for a few seconds, the weight of what happened settling around us. The grim, despondent look on his face told me he knew. He knew Dutch was dead.
