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She was frightened by me. I could see it all over her face. Her eyes were wide with fear, her mouth making a little ‘o’, where she couldn’t do anything to shut it.

“What are you?” she croaked; the voice full of confidence last night dissolved into fragility tonight.

“Part of a bike club.” I cocked my head, watching her expression.

Her throat bobbed, the little vein in the side of her neck flickered.

“What type of bike club are you?”

“An MC. But I’m guessing you already know that?”

Her teeth pulled at her lip. Perfectly proportioned, full, fleshy, pink lips that any woman would be jealous of. Still, she looked frightened, like she would do anything to escape from me right now. And that was the last thing I wanted.

“I never asked your name last night,” I tried to keep my voice soft. “It was chaotic. All that blood.” And now my voice did waver, whilst I remembered the slick, red spilling out all over me. I could still taste the metallic on the end of my tongue, like the particles clung to me even though I’d showered three times.

“A…Alice.”

Alice. Delicate, pretty, gentle. Just like her. She turned her back on me, stepping towards the bench, to the line of syringes that had been laid out on the countertop. And when she reached out to pick one up, her hand shook a little.

“I didn’t mean to scare you last night, Alice. Bringing the dog in covered in blood. But we had to save her. She’s one of us. Demon’s first love.”

I watched her move towards Kinobi to the bag of fluid hung at the side. She squeezed the contents slightly and then she unlocked the cage, muttering gently to the dog, who could barely lift her head to greet her.

“What are those for?” I asked as she pushed the injections into the catheters that hung out from a bandage around Kinobi’s neck.

“Painkillers, antibiotics, and a sedative.”

Alice scratched behind the dog’s ears and Kinobi answered with a little bob of her tail. Then she stood back up, not realising I’d moved into the space she’d created when she’d squatted in front of the cage. Her chest bumped off mine and she glanced up at me momentarily, those incredibly light blue eyes capturing me, just for a second. But just for a second, I was hypnotised. Her light brown hair was still held in a ponytail. How it had been last night. Strands of it fell down her face and the sides of her neck, and over her cheeks the dusting of light brown freckles made her look fascinatingly innocent.

“I…I’m sorry,” she stuttered, self-consciously stepping away, catching her toe on something and teetering.

She lurched backwards, her arms flailing, grabbing at the air for purchase. I caught her arm, my fingers closing over the cotton sleeve of something she wore under the monstrous green scrubs.

“Whoa. Careful.”

My other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back onto her feet. But I didn’t let go straight away, waiting a couple of seconds while she found her balance again.

“You ok? That was quite a wobble.”

Alice nodded, but she didn’t look up, staring into the white cotton of my t-shirt, her face just in line with my chest, the swell of hers brushing against me, her shoulders moving ever so slightly as she took long calming breaths.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“You eaten today?”

She shook her head. “I forgot.”

“You forgot to eat?”

She nodded; her eyes still fixed on my t-shirt. I nudged her backwards, my fingers still wrapped around her wrist, my hand relaxing from around her waist.

“How have you forgotten to eat?”

“It’s been hectic. Lots to do. I’m fine. Really. I’m going to pack up here and then I’ll go get something to eat.”

“Promise?” I don’t know why I cared.

But I needed a vet to look after this dog. That’s why I cared. Because Kinobi staying alive was in the hands of a well-fed vet.

Alice nodded. Silent acquiescence. Or so I hoped.

“Ok. Well, I’ll let you get finished up here and go get your tea.”

She nodded again, her pale blue eyes pinning me to the spot. Inside my jacket, my mobile vibrated.

“Gotta go, Alice,” I mumbled as I pulled the black handset free and glanced at the flashing display with my brother’s name on it.

“Cade?” she called out to my back, stopping me in my tracks. “If you’re coming by tomorrow night, could you ring the number on the front of the building? It’ll come straight to my phone. My heart can’t take another fright like tonight.”

She offered me an apologetic smile. It was uncertain, unconfident, and it was the best fucking thing I’d seen all night.

*****

“Where you been?” Caleb muttered from alongside me as we sat in a booth in the Dog .

“Went to check on Kinobi.”

“She doing ok?”

I shrugged. “She’s still alive. Other than that, I don’t really know. Too early to tell. Al…the vet said she could still get an infection. It’s early days. Anyone heard how Demon’s doing?” I changed the subject swiftly.

“Suzy said he’s awake. But sore. Risk of infection, and they don’t know how much damage it’s done to his bowel.” Magnet ran his fingers down the condensation clinging to the side of the pint glass he cuddled.

“Fuck. And where is Suzy?” I asked, glancing around at the brothers that packed out the Dog on the Tyne once again.

“Home. She’s been feeling sick all day. Every little smell is turning her stomach. Said she couldn’t cope with all you lot.”

“Suzy saying we all smell?” Caleb complained.

“Aye mate. The great unwashed. The lot of yas.”

The pub suddenly hushed, every voice filtering to a whisper, every head turning, every set of eyes on Indie as he stalked through the building. And everyone he passed silently fell into line, every one of us filtering from our seats and through the door behind the bar, filing into the huge room above.

“How’s Demon?” Big Red’s booming voice took over the room.

“In and out of consciousness. They’ve removed the bullet and stopped the bleeding, but there’s a big infection risk. And now the police are all over it.”

“Shit,” Big Red cursed.

“I’ve got the bullet from the dog.” I dangled a plastic bag in the air.

“Aye, and now the police have the ones from Demon. We can’t go down that route. Too much risk. They’re watching us too closely now anyway.” Indie looked at the room now, at the bodies crammed into church, expectant faces. “This needs an answer. I want the best intelligence I can get.”

“Why?” Barry the Blade interrupted, and every head turned to him. “Thought we decided this was The Hand.”

“The Hand were not working alone. CCTV shows there were at least five of them. The Hand are controlling things from the other side of the world. I want to know everyone who has switched allegiance, and I want them to feel the consequences. And I want anyone else to be too terrified to do the same.”

“And who’s gonna fear us now, huh?” Beanz grumbled from the far side of the room.

Silence fell on church. Every member glancing from Beanz to our President, but the bald man had found a speck of gall and continued, anyway.

“Come on, Indie. It was a good move. Take out the fiercest enforcer the north east has ever seen? Every bike club in the coalition can decide which side they are on now without fear of Demon breaking their faces. It leaves us exposed, vulnerable. Our biggest strength was also our biggest weakness.”

For a moment, no one moved. No one dared to glance at the person sat next to them, all eyes solely focused on Indie whose face gave away nothing, unless you were looking for the little tick of the muscle in the side of his neck.

Eventually he stood, leaning balled fists onto the table.

“We don’t need Demon to enforce the alliance,” he growled. “We are the fucking Northern Kings. So, act like fucking Kings. Fury, I want a team to hit the Aces. I want them hit hard. I want their crack houses burnt to the ground. I want all their operations closed down. Not one of those fuckers earns a penny, not from a job, from the government or the streets. These streets are ours. Chaos, Carnage, Reap. You lot are coming with me. We need to have a chat with Brie. Check he’s in control of that club of his.”

*****

The sprawling Broken Angel pub stood on a corner at the junction of two streets. Bikes formed an arc around the door, pulled up on the double yellow lines, parking restrictions the club knew no one would ever enforce. Music bounded out of the building, and even the Harley’s parked up, waiting on the street outside, bounced with the vibrations.

“Fuck me,” Reap grumbled. “The fuck sort of party is this?”

“They’re all half deaf. They need to have that music ramped right up just to hear the hint of a tune.” Indie beckoned for us to follow, pushing the heavy doors inwards and through a thick curtain of smoke.

A sea of leather cuts moved in the dark, some wriggling and writhing to the music like possessed grandads, others stood in groups chatting aggressively, shouting above the beat of the music. Hardly anyone noticed us, or cared, as we moved through the crowd.

“Fuckin’ hell. We’re all gonna be stoned before we step outta this place,” Carnage shouted across at me.

The woody, earthy smell became thicker the further we moved in, filling the air and sticking to our clothes.

“Stinks, doesn’t it? Think these guys are lovers more than they’re fighters.”

“Don’t underestimate them. These are the old guard. More of these have seen a biker war before than us lot. Angels and Demons used to be one of the biggest clubs in Britain. The Hand tried their best to wipe them out. If it wasn’t for Brie, the Kings would have fallen too.” Reap tipped his head, beckoning for us to keep step with Indie.

I glanced at my brother and then around at the club packed with grey-haired old men. They may have once been formidable, but I couldn’t see this old bunch of stoners being able to do anything other than cuddle people to death if the shit hit the fan.

We followed Indie through the crowd, side stepping as two men staggered backwards towards us, their arms locked round each other, their pints raised in the air. At the far side of the pub, the club’s president sat in a corner booth, a woman on either side of him. He stared out at us as we approached, his face as stoic as Indie’s, giving nothing away. No hint of welcome, no suggestion of hostility. And just as we stopped at the edge of the table, he tipped his chin up. It was a welcome of sorts, an acknowledgement of our presence.

Brie shrugged his arms free from the shoulders of the women, who clambered to their high-heeled feet, shuffling out of the space we stood in front of, and strode towards the bar. The old man raised his arms into the air, looking from each of us to the other. And then, when Indie slid himself along the red leather seats of the booth beside him, we all followed.

“What’s this about, Indie?”

“Intel, Brie.”

Brie raised his thick grey eyebrows.

“I wanna know what your boys were up to the other week. Fury tells me they’d been drinking with the Notorious.” Indie continued. “I wanna know whether we have to worry that half your club are gonna threaten to swap sides again like last time.”

“And like last time, I’ll nail their dicks to the wall if they even think about it.”

“So, what you do about Minty and his mates?”

“I let them go join the Notorious.”

“You what?” Reap leaned across from the other side.

“Ya gone deaf Reap, mate?” Brie retorted, his mask never slipping a millimetre. “I ripped off their patches and chucked the fuckers out.”

Brie glanced purposefully at the bar, to where four leather waistcoats hung from the mouth of an ugly gargoyle suspended high on the wall, laughing down at the punters below it.

“And what purpose does that serve, Brie?”

“Means the fuckers aren’t part of us anymore. Has always been a club rule. You know that. No one fraternises with the Notorious. Not. Ever,” the old man growled.

Indie shook his head.

“What did you want me to do, Indie? Kill them? At one time, I might have slit some throats and dragged them to the deepest part of Chopwell Woods. But I’m too old for that shit now. Let them go.”

“And the Hand?”

“The Hand will have us all fighting amongst ourselves eventually, anyway. I’m not sure I’ve the energy for it this time, Indie. Being patched over doesn’t seem like such a bad option anymore.”

“You really think the Hand will patch you over, Brie?” Indie shook his head, a hint of sadness on his face. “They killed nearly every Angels and Demons member up and down the country. Even the ones who switched sides to them. They’re coming for us, Brie. You, the Vandals and the Kings. They won’t leave any of us alive at the end of it. Not unless we strike back now.”

Brie shook his head, then waved at the women who loitered at the bar in tight leather miniskirts and ridiculously high heels.

“I was sorry to hear about Demon, Indie.”

“He’s not dead, Brie. They didn’t get him.”

“Good. Glad to hear that.” The old man turned to Indie, the stoic mask now sincere, the look of a caring grandad momentarily on his face. “They’ll be back though, Indie. You know that, don’t you?”

Indie nodded, his face suddenly tense.

For the first time, I realised what we were stepping into. There never had been any going back the moment Caleb and I had slipped the King’s colours onto our backs. But maybe there had always been the comfort the Great Biker War of the nineties and noughties was so far behind us it was as extinct as the dinosaurs. And in this club of dinosaurs, I knew we were fighting against our own extinction.