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Disappointment coated my insides.
“You’re cut from the club. We’ll sell your house to pay us back and leave you with a good amount to start over somewhere that ain’t this town.”
He jumped up. “What? No, you can’t fuckin’ do this.”
“It was your choice to cheat your brothers outta money. It was your choice to keep doin’ it to aid an addiction that we could’ve helped you out of.”
“Harper won’t be with me if—” He clamped his lips closed.
I closed the distance between us. “Harper? Did she get in your ear and tell you it was a good idea to take from us?”
“No.”
“Do not fuckin’ lie to me,” I roared in his face.
A chair scraped, and I flicked my gaze over to see that Riker stood, knife in hand.
Drawing in a breath, I took a step back and shook my head his way while I asked Writer, “Tell me about you and Harper.” I crossed my arms over my chest and waited.
“I’m just helpin’ her out at the moment. She’s been stayin’ with me after she got fired from her job.”
This was bullshit. Yeah, it was his addiction in the first place that caused him to fuck us over. But it was probably her that encouraged him to keep going or to get more than he’d needed.
We’d find out. I shot a look to Coms. He nodded and ducked out of the room.
“Then it looks like she’ll have’ta find a new place too.”
“Don’t do this, Razor. I’ve been in the club for decades. You can’t just throw me out like a piece of trash because of an addiction.”
“That’s what cuts me the most, Writer. That you’ve been with the club for decades, so you know that we would’ve helped you through your addiction. Instead, you chose to go behind our backs and deceive us.” I ground my teeth together. “Take off your cut and leave. Pack your shit at the house and get outta town. Coms will be in touch when we sell your joint. And don’t ever fuckin’ forget you’ll be watched, so it’s time to make smart choices.”
He flinched and deflated.
He didn’t have a leg to stand on. He’d fucked up when he’d screwed us over and taken money from the club. We sat pretty well above the green line in our lives. None of the brothers struggled. He wouldn’t have been either. Until his addiction grew and was probably fed on from some pussy who kept his dick wet.
No bitch was worth losing the club over.
No addiction was worth losing the club over.
My situation was different. I wasn’t losing the club. I was stepping away for the man I loved with my whole goddamn soul.
“Fuck, brother,” Writer said.
“Not your brother any longer. Remove the cut. Tanker, Grenade, and Jaws will escort you to the house to pack and then outta the area. You know what will happen if we see you around. If we get wind of you scramblin’ for any type of revenge against the club.”
He nodded, slipping his cut from his shoulders, and dropping it to the table.
“Nothin’ I can say that’d help the situation.” He was right. There wasn’t.
“Hope you get help, so you don’t fuck anyone else over,” I told him. My gut rolled with unease over the whole damn matter. We would have helped him. All he had to do was reach out to anyone in the brotherhood.
Writer’s jaw clenched. He tipped his chin up at me and walked from the room with the brothers I’d appointed as his watch, following him.
Arms wound around my waist, and I looked down to a softly smiling Riker. “I got you a coffee and some food. Might be a bit cold now, though.” His nose scrunched. “I can get you fresh stuff.”
Dipping down, I pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’m good, sunshine. I’ll take what you already got.”
“You sound sad,” he whispered.
