DESTROYED

by J, Bella

  I pulled my shoulders up. “I don’t know what happened, Manic. I don’t know what happened. Onyx and Granite came rushing in. Onyx and Ink were fighting,” I muttered between tears, Manic getting off his bike.

  “Slither must have taken Ink’s gun from his back. I don’t know.” I sniffed, swallowing hard. “I don’t fucking know.”

  “It’s okay.” Manic sat beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. I leaned into him, welcoming the comfort, but I longed for Ink. I longed for his arm to be around me, for his heat to comfort me. Every part of my being wanted to rush back into that building and find him, be with him. But I’d been a part of this world long enough to know I had no place in there now. Club business trumped the love card in this world.

  “Why aren’t you in there…with them?” I sniffed and pulled myself from his arm.

  “Onyx wants me to take care of you first. Take you home.”

  I nodded.

  “Come on.” He got up and held his hand out to me, pulling me to my feet. “Let me take you home.”

  Roughing my hands through my hair and wiping my face for the umpteenth time, I stilled, staring back at him. “Where were—” I snapped my mouth shut before I could finish my question. It was none of my business where Manic had been when all this went down. It was none of my business how the others figured out where Ink and I were—how Crow knew.

  None of this was any of my goddamn business…even though it felt like it all happened because of me. Ink had Slither because of me. Ink lied to everyone because of me. Ink landed on the wrong side of the Sixes because of me.

  All fucking hell broke loose…because of me.

  21

  Ink

  Walking into the club, seeing the somber look on all the faces staring at us was fucking hard to stomach. The reality of what happened still hadn’t settled. It was surreal, like a dream. It didn’t even feel like I was walking. My mind was a giant haze of thoughts that didn’t make any sense.

  I immediately spotted her among the crowd. Neon stood next to Alyx, Alyx’s arm draped around her shoulders, face red and tearstained. I wanted to rush to Neon. I wanted to bury my face in her neck and have her familiar scent and comforting warmth give me permission to let it all out. To fucking let go of the pain. But I couldn’t. This wasn’t about my pain, about my loss, or anyone else’s, for that matter. This was about the club’s loss. It was about the club losing one of its most loyal members. None of us mourned as individuals. We mourned as a club. A team. A family.

  For the past two hours, Onyx, Granite, and I stood by watching our clean-up crew take care of the mess, cleaning up the chaos of what looked like a fucking massacre. The red, the blood, Dutch’s body, it all seemed too fucking unreal, and I just stared at his cut with the fresh tag of vice president newly stitched to the leather. God, I wasn’t even sure what really happened. I was so preoccupied with comforting Neon I didn’t even feel Slither pulling the gun from my back, shooting one of my brothers with my own fucking gun.

  Granite was the target—the man Slither had been after for years. With a last fucking hurrah, Slither pulled that trigger, thinking he’d be dying side by side with Granite. But instead, Dutch took it. He took the bullet, saving Granite’s life. The man always had this sense of loyalty toward Granite. Their friendship surpassed everything else, and we all knew Dutch would probably go down in an epic fucking way, saving Granite’s life. And true as fuck, here we were, walking into the club, the death of our vice president cloaking each and every person in the room with the kind of grief that could not be put into words.

  I nodded in Neon’s direction, acknowledging her, letting her know I saw her. That I felt her. That I was here. No matter how much I wanted to be with her right now, I couldn’t. The club came first. The club’s loss was more important than any of us.

  Dice placed a tray of bourbon shots on the table, and without saying a word, Onyx grabbed one, slamming it back, the rest of us following suit. The alcohol stung, but it came nowhere near the burn of losing a brother.

  Onyx turned to face Wraith, and I felt the weight of what he needed to do. No one told her that Slither was dead, a clear instruction given by Onyx. He wanted to be the one to tell her. Even though she knew her brother was a dead man walking all this time, knew he’d meet his fate sooner or later, it was still her brother. And as her man, Onyx respected that. But he also had the duty of respecting the club’s feelings regarding her brother—the archenemy of the American Street Kings.

  I watched as he walked up to her, how her lips pulled in a straight line, her expression turning into a living picture of grief and pain. He didn’t have to say a word. Everything she needed to know, she saw on his face.

  With a gasp, she held her hand in front of her mouth as sudden sobs wracked through her, tears running down her cheeks in a stream of sorrow.

  The way Onyx’s jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed as if fighting back his own pain, he merely reached out a hand behind her head, pulling her closer and placing a desperate kiss on her forehead. It was a powerful display of a president comforting his old lady amidst the aftereffects of a tragedy that rocked his club to its core.

  Without saying a word, he pulled back and walked past her, leaving her in the company of Alyx and Neon, all of them crying silently. At this moment, he wasn’t in a position to give her more than that. He couldn’t…because of who her brother was.

  In silence, we followed Onyx up the stairs, on our way to attend what would be the hardest club meeting we ever had. One without Dutch.

  We walked inside the room, taking our seats, the only sounds those of the chairs screeching on the concrete floor. I glanced at the chair opposite mine. Dutch’s chair. A chair he would never sit in again. A space in this room that would never be occupied by him again. The complete awareness of his absence was as loud as a goddamn car crash with the bone gnawing noise of scraping metal and shattering glass.

  A life lost. Another King mourned.

  It had only been a few hours since it all happened. We hadn’t even had time to digest that one of the men we lived with, rode with, fucking fought with was no longer there. Not a breath, not a heartbeat, not a single fucking whisper was left of him. Just memories—but right now, the only memory that was painfully fresh in all our minds was the second we lost him.

  Onyx cleared his throat. “This is going to…” He choked on his words, shaking his head and closing his eyes. “This is not…Jesus.” He leaned back in his seat, the impatient tapping of his finger on the table a tell-tale sign of his discomfort. “This sucks, man. I don’t even know what to fucking say.”

  I weaved my fingers together. “It’s my fault.” I didn’t look at any of them, my glazed stare focused on my hands on my lap. “That motherfucking chair is empty right now because of me.”

  Onyx sat up straight. “Ink, this is not—”

  “It’s my fault,” I interrupted. “If I wasn’t so consumed with rage, if I had just fucking trusted you from the start, none of this would have happened.”

  “Ink, man. We get it.”

  My gaze cut to Onyx.

  He glanced at Manic, and then at Granite. “I think we all get it.”

  “No, you don’t. Not only did we lose one of our own, but because of me, we have Crow taking a dump on our motherfucking back porch. All of this is my fault.”

  “No, it’s not.” Onyx shook his head. “Yeah, sure, things could have ended differently if other choices had been made, but it is what it is. Dutch is dead, and we have Crow up our asses now. But, to be honest, you were right. I would have killed Slither that night we found him with Wraith. If you didn’t take him, I would have blown his fucking head off. So, whether it was you or me, the outcome would have been the same. Crow would be knocking at our door either way.”

  With a clenched jaw, I looked at Dutch’s empty seat. “But he’d still be here.”

  “Maybe. But there ain’t shit we can do about it now, and we don’t have time to sit around thinking ab
out what we should have done differently. We need to figure out how to play with Crow so we don’t have to bury another brother.”

  “I’m going.” I still didn’t look at Onyx, my eyes pinned on the fucking empty leather chair. “Don’t waste your breath trying to figure a way out of this. Crow will get what he wants.” I slowly dragged my gaze to Onyx. “And what he wants is me.”

  “There’s one thing you need to understand.” Granite placed his fists on the table in front of him. “You didn’t do anything we wouldn’t have done.”

  I frowned, and Granite pointed at Onyx yet kept his gaze on me. “My brother already admitted he would have killed Slither if he had the chance. And me?” He pressed his finger hard against his chest. “If that fucker had to so much as given Alyx a goddamn hangnail, I would have gutted him from nose to navel and turned his corpse inside out.” His jaw clenched. “You. Did. Nothing. Wrong.” He sat back. “So, stop with the guilt-trip bullshit. Dutch died saving my ass. But if that bullet did end up in my back like Slither had planned, Dutch—or any of you—would have ended him, and that’s a fact. So, whether it was you,” he pointed at me, “or Onyx, or Manic, or me, one of us would have crossed Crow when it came to that bastard, no matter how it played out. Now, we will sit here for the next two fucking days if we have to, but we will figure this out so there’s no more goddamn bloodshed on our streets.” Granite looked at Onyx, his eyes hard and fierce, burning with vengeance. “What does our president have to say about that?”

  Onyx nodded, jaw tense and shoulders squared. “He says ‘fuck yeah.’”

  “I might have a way out of this.” Everyone looked at Manic, who had remained oddly quiet up until now. “I think I might know how to bargain with Crow.”

  I narrowed my eyes, our secret playing in the back of my head.

  Manic gave me a knowing look before turning to Onyx. “Turns out Crow and I kinda have one thing in common.”

  Onyx lifted a brow. “Yeah, and what’s that?”

  Manic took a deep breath, the moment just as sharp as the word that came out of his mouth next.

  “Blood.”

  22

  Neon

  I thought the hours spent in that room with a bunch of Pythons was the longest day of my life.

  I was wrong.

  Sitting around the club, waiting for the guys to come out of that room, were the longest fucking hours, minutes, seconds of my life.

  After the mini conversation Crow and I had, I knew Ink’s head was on the line. I knew shit was millimeters away from hitting the fan. How in God’s name was this even possible? We get rid of the one devil, only to be threatened by another.

  Wraith, Alyx, and I were sitting in the kitchen, each with a glass of vodka in hand. Every now and then, I would look over at Wraith and feel sorry for her. Not because Slither was dead, but because she had lost a brother. I couldn’t imagine what it had to feel like to know that your brother was responsible for so much hurt and so much pain, and yet you still mourned him. It had to be the mindfuck of the goddamn century.

  After hours of waiting, the door creaked open, and Onyx was the first to appear. My heart raced, and all I thought about was to finally have Ink’s arms around me. When he walked in after Granite, I jumped up, knocking over my chair—not giving a damn—and rushed to him. My arms were around his neck clutching tight and holding on for dear life. I didn’t care that everyone was in the kitchen watching. I didn’t care who knew, who thought what, or who made the shittiest, most sarcastic remark. All I cared about was him. The man who gave me everything yet lost so fucking much.

  “What’s happening?” I whispered in his ear while hugging him.

  “Don’t worry about it, babe. We got it handled.” I heard the uncertainty that rang in his words, his voice nowhere near confident enough to settle the dread in my gut.

  I leaned back, studying him, searching for answers in his eyes. “Why don’t I believe you?”

  “Don’t stress.” He brushed his hands up and down my shoulders. “You okay?”

  “I’ll be okay once I know we’re in the clear.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I stepped closer, not wanting anyone else to hear. “Crow told me.”

  Ink tensed, and I could see the vein in his neck bulge. “What did he tell you?”

  “That we have forty-eight hours.” By the look on his face, I knew there was no need for me to say anything else.

  Ink cursed, pulling both palms down his face. “That fucker had no right to say a damn word to you.”

  “Stop, okay? Now is not the time to be worrying about who told me what and how much I’m not supposed to know. Just tell me there’s a plan. Tell me there’s a way to get you out of this.” My heart was beating so damn fast, my gut feeling empty and heavy at the same damn time.

  Ink leaned against the countertop, eyes cast down. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Stop it. Don’t fucking tell me to not worry about it when your face looks like I should worry about it.”

  “Neon, relax.”

  “No.” I inched back, suddenly not giving a fuck who heard us. “I will not relax. I get you have this stupid rule of not discussing club business with us, but this isn’t just club business. This is my fucking business. You are my business. So, if you have a fucking plan, I need to know about it now.”

  “Neon,” Onyx called, and I turned to face him. Standing behind Wraith with both his hands on her shoulders, it almost seemed like he was towering over her to protect her. “There ain’t nothing happening to Ink. You have my word.”

  The determined look in his eye echoed his promise, and every part of me wanted to burst into tears right there and then. Around here, a man’s word was worth more than anything else, and I immediately trusted that. I trusted Onyx, and I trusted this club—this family—to make sure my man remained unharmed.

  With a simple nod, I acknowledged his promise, and Ink wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling my back against his chest, leaning his chin on my shoulder. I closed my eyes as I reached out and cupped his cheek in my hand, his beard rough against my palm. This man who used to annoy the living shit out of me had now managed to become larger than fucking life to me. He was everything, and now the mere thought of not having him here with me was worse than being turned inside out by a bunch of animals.

  Alyx wiped at her nose with a tissue, her eyes red and tired. “And Dutch?”

  Granite placed a chaste kiss on her head. “We’ll start making arrangements for his funeral once things have settled.”

  And by things, he meant the shit with Crow and his ill-placed sense of justice toward Ink, who did nothing more than trying to make things right for me.

  I glanced at Wraith, my heart breaking for her even though her brother was the man who took from me what I’d never be able to get back. “What about Slither? What did you do with his body?”

  Wraith looked up at me with surprise, her face pale and eyes swollen with grief. Onyx shifted behind her, and I knew I was stepping out of place by bringing up business that had nothing to do with us. But this wasn’t just our enemy; it was Wraith’s brother. And Wraith was one of us now.

  Onyx cleared his throat. “It’s been taken care of.” He squeezed Wraith’s shoulders, and she reached up, taking his hand. “It’s been a long day. I think we should try to get some rest.”

  “Hey,” I glanced around, “where’s Manic?”

  Ink stiffened behind me, and as if the atmosphere around us weren’t heavy enough, it was like my question just slammed a ten-ton truck right in the fucking middle of the kitchen.

  “Come on,” Ink blatantly ignored my question, “let’s get some rest like Onyx said.”

  If it was any other time, under any other circumstances, I would have planted my stubborn ass right there until I’ve gotten some decent answers out of them. But not now. Not tonight. Not after everything that had happened.

  Everyone started going in separate directions, the room void of the
usual laughter, banter, and snide remarks. It felt empty and laden with a sense of grief that had the power to drown out even the tiniest sliver of joy. What was supposed to be a moment of victory, all of us celebrating the death of a man who had made all our lives hell for years, was overshadowed by a great loss of our own. And something told me it wasn’t over yet.

  * * *

  Ink

  The second I closed the bedroom door behind me, I expected Neon to slam me with a thousand and one questions. On our way here, I was wracking my brain, trying to think of answers I could give her without upsetting her. But when we were finally alone within the confines of her bedroom walls, there was only silence around us. Sitting on her bed, she looked up at me, and my chest ached when I saw the defeated look in her eyes, as if she had aged years within the last twenty-four hours. “This is all my fault.”

  “What? No.”

  “Dutch is dead. Crow wants war, and it’s because of me.”

  “Babe, no.” I crouched in front of her, placing my hands on her knees. “None of this is your fault.”

  A rogue tear slipped down her cheek, her chin trembling as she struggled to keep control. “If you didn’t have Slither hidden away, none of this would have happened.”

  “Exactly.” Hot air rushed out of my lungs. “Me. I had him hidden away. Me. Not you. Me. So, this is my fault. Not yours.”

  She eased her head to the side, violet strands touching her shoulder. “Because of me. Everything you did was because of me.”

  I shook my head, falling back flat on my ass. “It’s not like that, Neon.”

  “Ink, look at me. Look me in the eye and tell me that if it had been any other woman, you still would have gotten involved the way you did.”

  I licked my lips before grinding my teeth.