Page 84 of Enemy

How could I not choose him, when he risked his life trying to talk to me?

I’m loyal. I’ve just changed who I'm loyal to.

My thoughts freeze when the engine stops. I hope that if I am to be loaded into the oven, I’ll get the mercy of a bullet to the head first, but that does not mean I’ll go without a fight.

The truck shifts under someone’s weight, and I hear boots on the bed of the vehicle, sense them right next to my feet.

My heart works overtime, as if to make up for the dead silence of the bodies next to me. I hear the click of the safety being taken off before my bag is unzipped and I face the muzzle of a gun.

“Now, we can talk,” Bracer says in a voice that sends a chill down my spine. I regret brushing off his requests so many times.

This isn’t the first time I’ve been on this side of the gun though, so I meet his eyes to show no fear. “Sure. Let’s. Why’d you save me just to threaten me here?”

Bracer shakes his head. “Because you can still be useful. But first, explain since when you’ve been working with the Vultures.”

My heart drops. Of course. What other logical conclusion could there be?

“I’m not—”

Bracer leans down and pushes the gun in my face. “Don’t fucking test me, Clyde. I’ve had enough trouble dealing with your fucking uncle. Getting rid of you will be no chore for me. Are you working with them to get rid of Grizzly? I’m not gonna let a kid like you become the new prez. Over my dead body!”

I hold my hands up. I’ve seen Bracer pack a whole magazine into a man, and I’m not going to risk sharing that fate. “We’re a thing! I mean… Roadkill and I. I’m gay.” Saying it out loud makes my palms sweaty and my stomach clench, but it needed to be done. In the twisted logic of club life, this will still be better than the alternative—admitting to working with the Vultures.

Bracer’s eyes widen, but he’s silent as he straightens back up, assessing me in silence. I hate the judgment in his little smirk.

“Oh that’s just fucking precious. What a joke. You threw your life away for dick?”

His words are like a slap to the face. He has no idea how deep my connection with Road goes. He isn’t just some dick. He’s my lifeline. I might be as dead as the bodies next to me in the eyes of my club, but I’ve got no doubt that if I show up on his doorstep, he’ll pull me in for a hug and work something out. He cares about me in ways Bracer can’t fathom.

I’m not about to tell this prick any of that.

“It is what it is,” I say noncommittally, so I can keep the cards close to my chest and see what I can gain here. He did mention that I could be of use.

Bracer sneers. “So you don’t have a meaningful connection to the Vultures. I might as well have shot you.”

“Wait! No. I’m a dead man now. I’ve got no way back and nothing to lose. You want my uncle gone? I can do that. He won’t see me coming.”

“If you’re lying, and you think you’ll just disappear on me with your lover boy, know that I will find you. And I’d shoothimfirst.”

Not a hollow threat, as I recall a Butcher who went off-grid for three years back when I was a kid. He was found in Louisiana, and executed for betrayal. Bracer has his ways, and I’d be living with eyes in the back of my head, worried that one day Road won’t come back to wherever we call home.

But can I commit to assassinating my uncle? I never had love for Puck, but even killing him was a split-second decision not cold-blooded murder.

Then again, whatever gets me out of the position I’m in now works. I could regroup, find Road, reassess our situation, and maybe even snitch on Bracer. I know I’m done forin my club, but if I gave my uncle an actual rat’s head on a platter, maybe he’d let go of the vendetta against Roy’s killer. Or at least I’d be able to disappear with Road without a price on our heads. For all the rest of the Butchers know, I’m dead.

“I’m not lying.” A lie detector might beg to differ, but there isn’t one here. “I’ll get to him for you and disappear.”

Bracer smirks and gestures for me to get up. “Don’t be seen anywhere in public.”

Relief floods my heart even though this is hardly the end of my trouble. It’s a step in the right direction. I jump off the truck under Bracer’s watchful eye.

“Take that off. You’re not a Butcher anymore.”

I realize he means my vest with club colors, and even though I have so little love for my club brothers at this point, I’m reluctant to take it off. My identity has been tied to this club for so long I struggle to understand who I will be without it.

Just… Clyde?

I swallow and take off the cut, struggling to say goodbye to it. It feels like getting skinned. I’ve got no doubt this wound will bleed for years to come, if I’m lucky enough to live that long.