Page 5 of Chaos & Carnage

“Same here.”

“Didn’t hear you come in.” Caleb grabbed my pint, taking a gulp and putting it back.

“Ya know you can pour your own?” I complained, pushing it as far away from my brother as I could.

“What time you get back from the vets?”

“Dunno. Nine-ish. Didn’t check the clock. Just went straight to bed.”

Around us, the atmosphere changed. The hushed voices and bubbling energy ceasing immediately. Everyone stopped. Everyone watched. All eyes on the two men clad in leather striding through the pub. Indie looked as tired as I’d ever seen him. His face was tight and his eyes dark. His fists were balled at his side, long strides moving him swiftly through the space between the tables and chairs, stools and booths. Our eyes locked, a sense of anger rushing through me, almost like it was rolling off him and infecting me. Then we were on our feet and following him into the back of the building.

“How is he?” Magnet asked, all our heads turning to where our president sat at the very top of the worn mahogany table.

“Dunno yet. He’d only just come out of surgery when I left. Ciara is still there waiting for news.”

“He going to be ok, boss?” Sicknote asked from the far side.

“Dunno that yet, either. He’d lost that much blood. The paramedics didn’t know how he’d survived long enough to get to the hospital.”

Indie turned to me. “How’s the dog, Chaos?”

“Same. Vet operated. She’s had part of her intestine removed and now we just wait and see what happens.”

“She still in the vets?”

I nodded. “Sedated and drugged up. I’ll go check on her tomorrow.”

Indie tipped his head, agreeing with me.

“We got intel yet on who it was?” Fury grunted from beside our president, glancing round at the brothers crammed round the table.

Magnet and Reap shook their heads.

Every patched member had attended church tonight, on pain of losing their patches if they didn’t turn in. The older ones looked uncomfortable. Big Red wrung at his hands, clasping them together, then untangling his fingers repeatedly, his gaze fixed firmly on the president and vice president at the top of the table. Barry the Blade sat to my right, one leg bouncing under the table, unable to keep still.

“Masked men on bikes. Nothing to identify them. Could be anyone,” Magnet grumbled.

Fury shook his head at the top of the table. “It’s the Hand. Has to be.”

“Why does it have to be? Demon has beef with every club who went against us in the last war. It could be any one of them. The Vandals, Durham Outlaws, The Notorious, even Brie’s lot.” Barry the Blade rasped.

“The Hand directly threatened him at Ste’s funeral.” Fury’s words dropped the whole room into silence, deep and resonating. “They’ve gone straight to our best weapon. Demon won the last war for us. Only the Hand really know that. Take Demon out of the equation and we’re a lot more vulnerable.”

If a silence could have got any louder, it did just then. The older members round the table nodded slowly, like they were agreeing with something. Something I couldn’t hear. Reap and Magnet glanced at each other, passing a look between them I didn’t recognise. Beside me, Caleb’s legs were tense. The thigh that had rested against mine where he’d been slumped in the seat, now rigid, his body stiff, as if it had soaked up all the atmosphere in the room.

Indie shook his head, his face as dark and resolute as I had ever seen it. “I want everyone alert and aware,” he grumbled, his words echoing in the atmosphere. “No one takes any chances. Keep your wits about you and club business close to your chest. Fury, Magnet, Chaos & Carnage. I want the businesses reinforced. They’ll strike there next.”

“Why?” Caleb asked from beside me.

“Because it’s our funding stream. We need money to fight a war.” Indie answered, his words tired and slow.

“So, you reckon there’ll definitely be one, then?” my voice betrayed my show of nonchalance.

“Chaos, we’re in one. It fucking started last night.”

I glanced at Caleb, seeing my anxiety in his eyes, on his face. We’d been members of this club for years. There had been some pretty bad spats in our time here. But no wars. Just petty arguments resolved with fists. Last night’s shooting was on another level. A level far above what I could comprehend.

Chapter Four