Page 94 of Indie

“The Viking?”

Indie nodded.

“Why?”

“Because if I do it, I won’t be able to keep it clean. I want to rip every finger off his hands and ram them down his throat. I want to make him suffer, to know what real fear is like. To feel excruciating pain. But instead, V will make it clean. Or at least cleaner than I’m capable of. It has to be a solution, not revenge, however much I want it.”

I understood, I really did. I’d felt the same anger when I’d seen her lying there on the floor, her pretty face battered and broken, the rattle coming from her chest. And still she spoke to me, begging me to go get her kids, because he’d taken them. And beside her lay her dog, and even as I approached the pair of them, and it couldn’t struggle to its feet to defend her, it still growled, a low savage noise, intent perfectly clear.

“How is the dog?” I asked.

“She’s getting stronger. The bastard broke its leg as well as its ribs. But sounds like it half degloved his arm. Demon has been looking after her. Apparently Kinobi has taken a real shine to her, and Ciara to it.”

“Never thought I’d see the day that Demon settled down with a girl and two dogs, like.”

“Nor me.”

“I knew you always would. It was always just a question of who. I’d half thought if things hadn’t worked out with the Viking’s lass, she would have been the one for you. Never saw Emmie coming.”

“No. Neither did I. Now reckon we should get it over with?”

*****

The chapel was quiet. Apprehension filling the air around us and Indie sitting at the top of the table as vice president, tense and strained. I sat to his right, watching the many faces of the men that joined us. Round, thin, bearded, grey, young, battle worn and war virgins. There was a muttering, voices talking in low tones, coming together to form a low drone. Indie’s hands clasped together on the table in front of him, short fingernails digging into skin, tightening and relaxing, and for once the stoic mask of the man with the most control, was slipping. For once he was human.

But it was that control that we were voting in. That calmness. That ability to make decisions under pressure. Not just any decision, but the right one. He might not know it. But he always had been the right man for the job. Whether he wanted it or not.

“Brothers,” Indie’s voice scattered the mumbling, everyone becoming silent. “On the passing of our president, Ste Carter, we are here to vote for a new president. Nominations please.”

“Indominus Carter,” I said the words without hesitation, feeling Indie shift uncomfortably beside me.

“Seconded,” Big Red’s deep voice boomed.

“Any other nominees?” Indie spoke sullenly.

Brothers glanced at each other, wondering whether anyone would suggest someone else. No one moved. No one spoke.

“Then we shall vote,” Indie continued. “All in favour?”

Hands shot into the air, the room filling with ‘aye’ and the gavel fell. The decision made. Destiny fulfilled. A military leader for a biker war. Because we all knew it was coming.