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The plastic seats dug into the back of my thighs, my hamstrings aching like I’d run a marathon. But instead, I’d just sat here for hours, in the freezing waiting room of the little vet’s with only the green scrubs she had tossed at me and my leather bike jacket that I’d retrieved from the van. I needed my bed and a joint. My phone had buzzed repeatedly. Numerous texts, numerous brothers. But no one had any news on Demon, and I had none on his dog.

The clock above the aging reception desk ticked by loudly, each second echoing into the emptiness. The only sound. Even behind the door I’d stepped out of hours ago, it was quiet. Not a beep of a machine, or the drone of voices. Nothing. Just silence. Echoing, lasting silence. Eventually my heart kept beat with the clock, steady and rhythmical. I’d drifted off twice, waking with a jolt as my phone buzzed against my thigh, but still no word from Indie or anyone else. For all I knew, Demon was dead already. And maybe his dog wasn’t far behind.

The thought was as heavy as lead, resting in my stomach like I’d swallowed a cannon ball, sinking through my body. A grey light filtered in through the gaps in the bashed horizontal blinds, cascading a scatter of grey shadows on the old lino floor at my feet. And eventually, with each minute that morning trickled into the vet’s office, the room lightened, the yellowing floor showing circles of white; accidents bleached away.

The click startled me. I’d drifted off again, my brain muddled, my eyes struggling to adjust in the gloom, unaware of where I was and jumping to my feet. The mobile hit the floor with a clunk.

“Sorry to disturb you.” Her voice was softer now. Tired. A hint of shyness.

Still, my eyes struggled to focus. The alcohol from the night before clouding my vision more than my lack of sleep, and all I could do was stare as she walked closer.

Her green scrubs were soaked in patches, the dark red still drying. Light brown hair had escaped the ponytail it had been tied back in. Gentle blue eyes, filled with exhaustion. Or maybe they were grey after all. I couldn’t tell properly in this light. There was a dusting of freckles over her nose, and splashes of blood on her face, a dried red streak down one cheek where she’d wiped at it.

“Kinobi?” I asked, my voice cracking through tiredness and the start of a hangover. “Is she…?”

“She’s alive,” she answered quickly, saving me the anxiety of waiting for an answer. “But she’s very poorly. She’s lost a lot of blood. I’ve had to take out a chunk of intestine.”

“And will she stay alive?” I asked, the lead cannon ball trying to force its way from my stomach to my bowel, feeling heavier every second.

“I don’t know that yet. There’s a high risk of complications from these things.”

“What sort of complications?”

“Infection. More internal damage than we could see.”

“You opened her up, didn’t you? You’ve seen what the damage is?”

I winced at the bite in my voice. A mix of fear, tiredness, worry. The young vet stepped forward, the light from the window illuminating her better. She had a round, gentle face. The freckles making her look younger than she possibly was. Her eyelashes framed her eyes, thick and long, but not hiding how tired she was. And here I was, being a knob.

“Mr….?” she asked softly, almost hesitantly, her voice free of the commands I’d heard in it earlier.

“Chaos. Cade,” I added quickly when her brows furrowed in confusion. “My name’s Cade.”

“Cade,” she repeated, my name almost whispered on her lips. Full pink lips. “We can’t always see the full picture when they come in from a trauma such as this. And I’ve never had to deal with a bullet wound injury before. Me and my nurse have done our best. Kinobi now just needs time to rest. I’ll keep her dosed up with painkillers, so she doesn’t feel a thing. I’m also going to keep her sedated, so she doesn’t panic. I need her to stay as still as possible now.”

I nodded, thinking I understood. But all I heard was that it was still touch and go. We could still lose her. And right now, I didn’t know whether we’d already lost Demon.

“Thank you. For everything. I’ll wash these and get them back to you.” I plucked at the same green fabric that she was wearing as a tunic, which only served me as a t-shirt.

*****

There was a static hush in the Dog that night. It was full of the Kings. Every single one of us. Even Beanz, who was sitting uncomfortably in a corner booth, nervously sipping a pint and hugging his side. I hoped the fucker was hurting. Badly. Knobbing our old president’s ol’ lady was a cardinal sin, but when the man was dying? I would have exiled him from the club. And I didn’t know why Indie hadn’t. Or maybe he just hadn’t yet.

“How’s the dog, brother?” A hand slapped down on my shoulder heavily.

“Not good. But still alive for now. How’s Demon?”

“Same. Still alive, I think.” Caleb pushed his arse up onto the stool beside me, looking as tired as I felt.

“You get any sleep?” I asked, looking at him like I was looking in a mirror.

“Slept all day, lad. You?”

“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.