Page 47 of Wings (Heavy Kings MC #5)

My brother looked like death had already started claiming him.

Clothes that might have been expensive once hung off a frame that had eaten itself from the inside.

Three days of stubble couldn't hide the hollows in his cheeks, and his eyes—fuck, his eyes were those of a hunted animal.

Wild, desperate, seeing threats in every shadow.

His hands shook as he raised them, showing empty palms. The tremor could have been withdrawal, fear, exhaustion. Probably all three fighting for dominance in a body that was running on fumes and whatever cocktail of stimulants kept him upright.

"Congratulations on the patch, brother." The words came out cracked, his attempt at a smile looking more like a wound. "Sorry to crash the party, but I'm out of time."

Every muscle in my body locked down, training and instinct screaming different commands. Brother, threat, family, enemy—all tangled together in the wreckage standing before me. Kiara pressed closer to my side, and I felt her hand find the small of my back. Not hiding, not fearful. Supporting.

"You shouldn't be here." The words came out flat, emotionless.

"I know." His hands dropped slowly, carefully, telegraphing every movement. "But in about six hours, the Serpents are going to figure out their books don't match their reality. That phone data you lifted? They'll trace it back eventually. I'm already dead—just wanted to choose how I go out."

The phone. The evidence we'd held back, giving him time I couldn't explain even to myself. Of course he'd figured out we had it. Paranoia was the only thing keeping him alive at this point.

Duke's hand had drifted to his weapon, casual as breathing. "And you came here why?"

"Because I have something you want. Information worth more than my skimming ever was.

" Alex's desperate eyes found mine, and for a second I saw the kid who'd shared my room, my toys, my blood.

Then it was gone, replaced by the stranger he'd become.

"One last deal. I help you hurt the Serpents, you help me disappear.

After that, I'm a ghost. You never see me again. "

Thor scoffed from his position by the door. "Pretty big talk from a dead man walking."

"That's exactly what I am," Alex agreed, swaying slightly on his feet. "Dead man with nothing left to lose and one last card to play. Question is whether you want to hear it or just hand me over gift-wrapped."

"Talk," Duke commanded, but his eyes were on me, reading my reaction.

"Thursday night," Alex started, the words tumbling out like he'd rehearsed them.

"Major shipment coming up from Houston. Quarter million in cash, payment for three months of product already distributed.

They'll stop at the Stanton warehouse to divide it up for the runners.

Security's light because who's stupid enough to hit a Serpent convoy? "

"Someone with a death wish," Thor supplied.

"Someone with inside knowledge of routes, schedules, and security positions," Alex corrected. He reached slowly into his jacket, everyone tensing until he produced folded papers. "Everything I know. Guard positions, vehicle descriptions, the works."

Duke didn't reach for the papers. "Your price?"

"Sixty grand. Enough to clear my debts and start over somewhere the Serpents won't look. You keep the rest—almost two hundred thousand pure profit."

The math was seductive. Hurt our biggest rival, fund operations for months, and make my brother someone else's problem. All for the price of believing a junkie thief with every reason to lie.

"Even if this intel is good," I heard myself say, "why should I trust you? After the threats, the stalking, what you did to Kiara?"

His composure finally cracked at her name. "Because I fucked up, okay? Lost my goddamn mind. The drugs, the pressure, seeing her happy with you—it all got twisted in my head until I couldn't see straight."

He looked directly at Kiara for the first time since entering. She didn't flinch, didn't hide. Just stood there like a queen surveying a peasant, waiting to see if he'd grovel properly.

"I'm sorry." The words fell into silence like stones into deep water. "Not asking for forgiveness. Not trying to make it right. Just . . . acknowledging that I know what I did was fucked. That I became something I don't even recognize."

Kiara's grip on my back tightened, but her voice came out steady as steel. "Acknowledgment received. Doesn't change anything."

"I know," Alex said quietly. "I know."

The office held five people and about a thousand pounds of history. Brothers by blood facing off across choices that couldn't be undone. The weight of my new patch pressed against my shoulders, reminder of oaths sworn just minutes ago.

Duke let the silence stretch until it sang with tension. Testing us all, reading the angles, calculating odds like the wartime commander he'd never stopped being. When he finally spoke, his words would reshape all our futures.

"Let’s talk details," he said. "Let's see what kind of ghost you're trying to become."

Alex stood in the center like a penitent, papers spread across Duke's desk with shaking hands.

"Thursday night, 11 PM," he began, voice gaining strength as he fell into the familiar rhythm of operational planning. "Houston connection sends their payment north in a modified Escalade. Two bikes for escort, another follow car with soldiers. Standard convoy setup."

His finger traced routes on a hand-drawn map, surprisingly detailed for someone whose brain was half-melted from whatever cocktail kept him functional.

"They take Highway 47 to avoid weigh stations, then cut through industrial district.

Right here—" he tapped a junction, "—they stop at Stanton warehouse.

Used to be a furniture distributor, Serpents bought it through a shell company two years ago. "

"I know the place," Thor rumbled. "Cameras everywhere, only two access roads. Suicide box if they lock it down."

"Except they won't." Alex's smile held no humor, just the bitter knowledge of someone who'd watched his death approach in slow motion.

"Thursday night's when they divide the Houston money.

Venom, Tomb, and Slash meet there to take their cuts before it goes to the mother chapter.

They keep security light because too many bodies draw attention, and who's stupid enough to hit three Serpent officers? "

The room digested this. Venom would be there. The Iron Serpents Prez. He’d been dark for months. The tactical advantage sang like a siren song.

"Guard positions?" Duke asked, all business now.

Alex produced another paper, this one a rough blueprint marked with X's and times.

"Two at the main gate, always prospects trying to earn their stripes.

Two more roving the perimeter on fifteen-minute cycles.

One sniper on the roof—usually Bones, he's got a thing for height.

Inside, each officer brings two soldiers. Total of twelve, thirteen guys max."

"Against how many of us?" I asked, already running scenarios.

"Doesn't matter if we're smart about it.

" Alex met my eyes, and for a second I saw the strategic mind that had made him valuable to the Serpents before drugs ate it away.

"Hit them during the count when they're spread out.

Smoke grenades through the skylights, flash-bangs at the exits.

In the chaos, a small team grabs the cash while everyone's blind and choking. "

"Convenient that you know all this," Thor said, skepticism dripping from every word. "Almost like someone's setting a trap."

Without hesitation, Alex started stripping.

Shirt first, revealing a torso that looked like a medical school diagram of addiction.

Track marks up both arms, bruises in various stages of healing, ribs visible enough to count.

He turned slowly, showing the lack of wires, then dropped his pants to prove the point completely.

"Jesus," Kiara breathed, quickly looking away.

He was a skeleton held together by desperation and whatever drugs still flowed through dying veins. This wasn't my brother anymore—this was what remained after choices ate a person from the inside out.

"I'm a lot of things," Alex said, redressing with movements that showed how much the display had cost him.

"Thief, junkie, piece of shit who hurt the only good thing in my life.

" His eyes found Kiara again. "But I'm not a rat.

The intel's good because I was supposed to run security for the warehouse stop.

Venom trusts—trusted—me to keep the prospects in line. "

"Even if this is real," I said slowly, voicing what everyone was thinking, "why should I trust you after everything? The flowers you sent Kiara, the bear, the photos. You've been escalating for weeks."

"Because I lost my fucking mind!"

The words exploded out of him, raw and ragged.

His composure shattered like cheap glass, tears cutting through the grime on his face.

"The drugs, the pressure, watching her be happy with you—it all got twisted until I couldn't see straight. You don’t know whati t’s like.

I became someone I don't even recognize.

Someone who threatens women, who stalks and terrorizes because I can't handle my own fucking failures. "

He dragged both hands through greasy hair, leaving it standing in desperate spikes.

"You want to know why you should trust me?

Because I've got six hours before they figure out their books are fiction.

Because every dealer I owe wants pieces of me I don't have left to give. Because I looked in the mirror this morning and saw Dad staring back, judging me. I don’t want to die an asshole.

I want to help you. I want to make ammends.

Only question is whether I take some Serpents with me or die alone in some warehouse when they find me. "