Page 52 of Chaos & Carnage

“Do we know how many survived?” Demon asked.

I shook my head.

“Well, we need to find out. They all need taking out, brother, or the fuckers will still come.”

“They won’t. Anyone who wasn’t there will go into hiding. There’s now no doubt we’re coming for them. They’ll stay off the scene for a good long while.”

Demon nodded his approval. “So that just leaves The Notorious and The Hand.”

“Exactly. Reckon if we take the Notorious out, the Hand will leg it. They won’t take us on in the north east without the backing of other clubs. We’ll recover control.”

Demon frowned, something troubling him.

“What?” I asked.

“Don’t think that’ll be enough. Not this time. The Hand will keep coming back. Maybe not in the next couple of years, but they’ll try it again.”

“So, what are you suggesting? We can’t possibly take out the entire Bloody Hand. They’re just too big. They reach too far.”

Demon shook his head. “No. But we need the entire north. Not just the north east. We need it all, from York and Manchester, all the way up.”

It was my turn to shake my head. “That’s a really fucking big ambition, that brother.”

“It’s the only way we’re going to win this war, Chaos. The only way.”

I shook my head but said nothing. For the first time I’d seen Demon scared, and I hoped to my God and everyone else’s it was just because he was too weak to defend himself and us.

The knock at the door downstairs vibrated through the house, hard and urgent. I looked at Demon, his brows furrowing, his arm absentmindedly grabbing his side.

“Check the cameras, Ciara,” I instructed. “You got weapons if we need them?”

Demon nodded, his eyes trained on the door from the lounge, dark and apprehensive.

“It’s the police!” Ciara called from the kitchen.

“Fuck’s sake. What do those cunts want?” Demon cursed, a stubbornness creeping over his body.

“I’ll get it. They’ll start kicking the door in by the time you make it down those stairs,” I said to Demon.

One uniformed officer and one in plainclothes stood on the doorstep.

“Jake. Always good to see you, mate.” the sarcasm was deep in my voice and the uniformed officer rolled his eyes.

But Jacob Gray didn’t even flinch. We’d spent years hating him. And he’d spent years not caring.

“Here to see Demon. I’m guessing he’s in.”

“Yeah, he is. Come on up.”

The two police officers followed me up the stairs, another set of enemies on my tail. In the apartment above, Ciara and Demon sat waiting for them. Demon in the high-backed chair, a throw over the upholstery, hiding the bullet holes and the stains of his own blood where it wouldn’t wash off. The fucker needed a new one, but he was too tight to spend his money. I bet he had it stashed in the floorboards, too.

Jake scanned the room. “Can me and Demon have a minute?”

“Nah, mate. These can stay.” Demon grunted, perched on his chair like a fucking King.

But that was exactly what he was. A Northern King.

“Suit yourself. We never got the chance to ask you questions the other week.,” Jake paused, and Demon tipped his chin up expectantly. “The night you were stabbed…”