Page 36

After Cypher drops that revelation on me, I ignore the oily sickness that coats my skin so we can get a run in place to go confront my parents in New York.

Ideas bounce around the table as we all struggle with the vileness that has filled this room with Cypher’s discovery.

I peer at Joker. “How soon do you think you can get us a safe plan in place?”

His face is grim, his hazel eyes sparking with all the depraved things he wants to do to my father and the entire congregation. “Give me three days.”

For the next two days, I try to be present with my family, but I can’t shake the darkness that has been building inside of me. Birdie needs to know about what Cypher found out, but I can’t bring myself to tell her.

Not yet.

What if this is her reason? What if it’s her limit?

Hell, I can’t stand the fact that I share the same fucking blood with that abusive piece of shit. How can I expect her to?

No, I won’t tell her yet.

I’ll wait until after the run.

The day before we’re supposed to hold church to go over the run plans, I visit Gavel in the hospital so I can fill him in on the shit he’s missed. He’s doing much better. There’s been no other delay in his healing. Gavel has been awake and giving the hospital staff hell for almost a week now.

“Sir, you can’t just get up and walk out of here,” a female voice admonishes.

“The hell I can’t. If I’m going to die, I ain’t doing it here.”

“Still giving them hell, I see,” I mutter, stepping into the room.

“Thank goodness. Could you please get him to understand that he shouldn’t leave the hospital yet?” the nurse asks me.

I shrug. “The man is pushing late sixties. What do you expect me to do? Spank his ass? He’s a grown man who can make his own life choices.”

“I’m getting the doctor.”

“Do what you have to do, sugar. Just get me whatever the hell I need to get the fuck out of this morgue.”

We watch her go in a huff, grumbling something under her breath about idiotic men, which we find amusing.

Then I turn to Gavel. “You really think it’s a good idea for you to leave?”

“If I’m going to die, it’s not going to be in here,” Gavel states gruffly. “Why are you here?”

I don’t answer right away, and that has him looking deeper at me.

He straightens with a wince. “What happened? Birdie and the twins?”

“They’re okay. Cypher and his contact found the information we needed on Frankie.”

“Well?”

“He’s my half-brother.”

Gavel’s eyes widen, his flushed face paling. “Who?”

“Eoghan raped a seventeen-year-old. She tried to go to the police, but we know how that went. She gave birth to twins. One died, one lived. She gave him away to another family,” I relay the news monotone.

“The Sullivans,” Gavel whispers.

I nod. “We’re heading to New York.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

Gavel nods and stands, a dark expression on his face. “Get me the hell out of here because you’re not doing this part alone. It’s my goddamn son.”

“You can’t ride for that long,” I point out.

“Not on a bike. As much as I don’t want to be put in a cage, I’ll endure it for this.”

Much like me, he locks what he’s truly feeling behind a wall. There will be time for us to bleed out this darkness.

The last place I want to return to is New York and that motherfucking church. There are too many memories that make my skin crawl. Nightmares that have me itching to peel my skin from my bones to erase the feel of phantom hands holding me down.

I thought I dealt with my childhood. I thought I had that shit locked up tight, but with one announcement, the memories break free from the confines I had them in.

My parents worship a fucking deity who should have slaughtered them the moment their evil touched another person.

Their pious words and actions spawned a being more monstrous than the devil.

It’s time they understood that.

Their God won’t save them any longer.

“When will you be back?” Birdie asks when I call to check in on her and the kids.

“Not sure. However long this takes.”

We’re halfway through our eighteen-hour ride when we have to stop to fill the bikes up again.

There were a few wrecks along the interstate that Joker found quick detours for, but other than that the ride has been smooth sailing.

Weather has held up nicely, but there’s a chance for rain over the next few hours.

It won’t be our first ride through that shit, so we’re prepared.

Our gear is in the cage with Hannibal, Gavel, and our clean-up crew.

The closer we get to our destination, the more every part of me shuts down.

My brothers watch me warily, as if I’m going to fucking explode any moment.

It feels like it the more my skin stretches tightly over my body.

They don’t understand the change but are smart enough to know our destination plays a significant part of it.

“Tell the kids I love them. We’re about to ride out.”

“Okay,” she whispers, worry deep in her voice. “Stay safe, Pope.”

Another two hours into the ride, we have to pull off because the rain is too heavy for us to continue any farther.

“We should get some rooms for a few hours. Get some rest while we wait for this storm to pass,” Joker says.

As much as I want to say no, the safety of my brothers is more important than my need to face a past I’m not ready for.

There’s too much shit going on in my head for me to get anything but a fitful rest. I try to sleep, but every time I close my eyes, nightmares of my childhood play out behind them.

Unwanted hands touching me, the filthy fucking memories of my youthful body betraying me and finding release despite the depraved things they did to me, pain, and anger.

It’s all there to greet me in the dark until it’s too overwhelming and I jump into the shower.

The heat scalds my body as I try to rid myself of the poison embedded into my flesh.

I don’t climb out until I hear the pounding on my motel door.

“Give me a fucking minute, will you?” I yell when they continue.

Once I’m dressed and my kutte is over my shoulders, I yank open the door with a scowl. Cyanide has his hand poised to knock again, and I shove it back at him until he hits himself in the face.

“That was just mean,” he says with a wince.

“The way you beat down my door was mean. Are we ready to roll out?”

“Yeah. Storm has passed and roads are clear.”

“Then let’s go.”

Twenty minutes later, we’re back on the road to finish the last leg of our trip.

We only stop once to pull off our colors and meet up with the president of the club in this area.

He lets us pass with a warning not to start shit in his territory.

He has no worries there. We reserve our anger for the vile motherfuckers we’re about to meet.

Once we reach the Bellview city limits, we slide our kuttes back on and Cypher transfers the fee the dirty fucking cops requested when he reached out to them. They’re going to let us have free rein as long as we clean up whatever mess we make.

That’s fine by me since I plan on it getting fucking filthy.

Joker found an abandoned warehouse for us to set up at for the rest of the night. We need time to prepare everything, and we want to hit them when we’ll have the most destruction.

Just being back in Bellview is fucking with my head. Demons whisper their bloodthirsty need for vengeance in my ear. They demand to feast on the blood of the ones who wronged me.

When I get a good look at Gavel as he climbs out of the cage, I can see that being here has taken a toll on him as well. He knows we’re not leaving this place without ending Eoghan’s life. I’ve let Eoghan live too long, and the blood on his hands is something I’ll carry on my soul.

The reaper carrying his DNA will be his retribution.

From what I remember, the church hosts their heinous parties in the church on Saturday nights so they can repent on Sunday.

We’re all quiet as we push our bikes into the warehouse and get the space set up with beds, Cypher’s tech equipment, and weapon stashes. Malice readies our war table with blueprints of the church so we can go over our entry points again.

“I want to get in there before they start their party .” I spit out the word. “As they do their worship bullshit will be the perfect chance. They’ll cleanse the altar before proceeding.”

My tone is dead as I recite the memories.

“Their routine could have changed since I’ve been here, but I doubt it. They’re very much creatures of habit. They believe if they deviate from routine, nothing they do will be pure.”

“What are we walking into here, Pope?” Basilisk asks.

“Every sick, depraved, fucking demonic shit you can think of, they’re going to be doing to women and children.

Any person there who is not in a white silk robe is the enemy.

Understand?” I ask, peering around at the crowd of Saint’s Outlaws.

“Trust me when I say that you won’t be able to miss the victims. Just look for the haunted expressions and dead eyes. ”

I observe the men surrounding me. Men who trust me to lead them, who will have my back without hesitation. They deserve to know the truth.

My eyes find Gavel’s. He deserves to finally know it all.

With a deep breath, I tell them my story.

Every sickening, painful, immoral piece of the childhood who molded me into the fucking psychotic motherfucker I am. With every admission, I unveil my reason for turning away from religion.

Acceptance dawns in Savior’s eyes, realizing why I’ll never be a part of that piece of his life.

When the last word leaves my mouth, I stagger and fall against the table as exhaustion weighs me down. I hang my head, unable to look my brothers in the eye.

“Please tell us there will be enough people for all of us, Prez,” Butcher demands, his voice gruff with anger.

I jerk my head up, searching him out. He’s staring at me with darkness swirling in his eyes. My eyes drift around the room, taking in the expressions of my men. They all hold a wealth of emotion, but none of them pity me. Instead, they’re ready to stand at my back and go to war for me.

“There will be enough for us all to feast on, my brother.”