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The second Flame was out, Edge and Rider pushed through to him, all business. Most brothers left the room, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off Maddie. Because the bitch had told Flame the fucking truth. She stayed beside her husband, gripping his fingers, running her hand over his head. She was whispering into his ear, and my chest nearly fucking cracked at the sight.
My eyes closed, and my hands balled into fists at my side. I’m here, mi amor. I’m here . . . I will never leave you . . . I could feel Adelita’s hand in mine. I could feel her finger on my cheek, and I could smell her rose perfume. Smell it as if it was right beside me. As if she was right beside me . . .
The sound of the floor creaking made my eyes snap open. A hand came down on my shoulder. Tank. “You good?”
I nodded my head, then turned. AK and Vike were still behind me, watching as Edge and Rider worked on Flame. AK had his hand on Ash’s shoulder. The kid was white. And he wasn’t taking his black eyes off Flame. Fucking locked on his brother on that gurney.
“Styx is calling church in thirty minutes,” Tank said. He looked at me. “Let’s get a drink.”
We headed to the door. “Come on, Ash,” I heard AK say. “Leave them to work on him.” He paused. “He’ll be okay. Flame ain’t leaving you or Maddie. Not even Hades himself will drag him away.”
“I’m staying.”
“Ash—”
“I said I’m fucking staying!” he hissed. It was the first time I’d heard anger like that from the prospect’s mouth. When I looked at him, I saw fucking death in his black eyes. The kid was hitting the weights every day. Growing all the damn time. He was turning into a fucking unit. And with the new flame tattoos that crawled around his neck, and the piercings that had started taking over his face, he was looking more and more like his brother. It seemed the kid had more of Flame’s brand of psycho in him than we’d thought. From the minute I’d met that kid I sensed something dark inside him. Like it would only take one more fucked-up thing happening in his life before the real Ash came crawling out. The kid seemed quiet. But I’d heard of his past. The fucked-up things that were done to him by his and Flame’s old man. ’Course, that didn’t mean he was automatically fucked up; people had survived worse and had come out of it okay. But whenever anything happened to Flame or Maddie, or even AK—people Ash was close to—something fucking shifted in his dark eyes. Something that was a million miles away from the sweet kid he was known to be.
Tank slapped AK on the back. “Leave him. It’s his brother. He wants to stay with Flame and Madds. You know how he is.”
AK squeezed Ash’s shoulder before walking away. Beau’s face flashed in my mind for a second. But before my chest could fucking crack further and leave me paralyzed, I let the image go. Tank must have sensed something was wrong, because he hooked his arm around my neck and said, “Whiskey, Tann. Now.”
I followed him to the bar, from where I could hear raised voices. When we walked in, I instantly felt the tension in the room. Arizona and Gull’s prez had gone, off to get the bodies of his brothers. We made our way to our chapter. Zane, a prospect and AK’s nephew, was behind the bar. I saw him take a deep breath of relief when he saw AK walking toward him. AK leaned over the bar and kissed the kid’s head, telling him without words that he was okay.
I couldn’t fucking take it. All the fucking family shit, the old-lady shit. Seeing it every day was like a cancer eating away at me. Fucking showing me what I didn’t have.
“Zane. Bottle of Beam.” Tank’s voice sounded next to me. I sat on a bar stool, away from Bull, Hush, and Cowboy. I wasn’t fucking welcome on that table. Could see Bull and Hush always watching me. The fucking Nazi they’d been forced to let into their lives. “Ignore it,” Tank said. I closed my eyes, then opened them again when Tank put a shot of whiskey in front of me. I knocked it back.
The noise of the bar disappeared around me as Tank asked, “You see any of them?” I nodded. Tank handed me another shot. “You know them?”
“Yeah.”
“You train them?”
I paused, letting the guilt seep in. The guilt I deserved. “Yeah.” Tank placed his hand on my back. I took another shot, waiting for the whiskey to numb me. I dropped the empty glass to the bar top. “But they got new tricks.”
Tank didn’t speak for a few seconds. I knew he was judging if I could fucking handle it. Then he said, “Beau.” It wasn’t a question.
I rubbed at my eyes. I felt tired, but my body never let me sleep. Instead, in the dark hours, my brain decided to showcase every fucking thing I’d ever done that I regretted. Screaming at me that, outside of Tank and Beauty, I had no one. And worse . . . that my brother, my once best friend, was now running the soldiers I’d been raised to lead. Beau, who had idolized me so much he’d followed me into the army, only to come out to find me gone and standing shoulder to shoulder with his enemies.
Beau, who was now using all his army knowhow to fight a war against me. Fuck, I hadn’t even had the chance to say goodbye to him before I got the fuck out of the Klan for good. Just upped and left him. He never tried to find me. I’d never heard from him at all since he’d come home.
It was clear he was gonna always be Klan. Believed the ideology still. And no doubt no longer saw me as his brother, but as a traitor to his race.
He’d hate me now.
My own brother hated me.
“They’re good,” I said to Tank. “They’re real fucking good.” I took another shot and checked around us to make sure no one was listening. They weren’t. Too busy dealing with their own place in this war.
I stared down at the empty shot glass in my hands. “I get that the Hangmen are strong. Their reach is unrivaled. And they have a lot of ex-military. Psychos who would kill just for fun. But today . . .” I shook my head. “Fuck, Tank. For weeks now we’ve been hit by the Klan. And each time they’ve been organized, mobilized, and trained to do exactly what they set out to do.” I laughed, no humor. “He’s done it.” Tank looked at me. I could tell by his face he knew exactly what I was going to say. “My old man. His dream has been realized. He has a Klan army. One that can actually do what he wants—start a real fucking war.” I shook my head, guilt burrowing a hole in my stomach. “And I’m responsible for creating it.” Tank poured another whiskey. “Destroyer of worlds.”
Tank smirked. “Oppenheimer quotes? You’re getting deep, brother. We’ll blame the whiskey.”
“It’s true. I created the Klan nuclear bomb, and now I get to sit back and watch it get dropped.” My throat started to close, but I managed to rasp out, “Get to watch my brother, my fucking baby brother, be the one to give the order.”
“We’ll stop them, Tann.” Tank gestured to the brothers from all the southern state chapters in the room. “We got men. We got balls.” Tank pointed to himself, then me. “We got us. We know the Klan. Maybe we just need to start thinking that way again. To figure out what their plans might be.” Another shot, the numbness this time starting to spread through my veins. I rolled my neck, my muscles loosening as the liquor began to do its job. “And we got your contact, yeah? Still got someone inside who’s helping?”
“Yeah.” I did. Wade Roberts. His old man was one of Landry’s closest friends until he died a few years back. Wade was inner circle and wanted out but, unlike me, lacked the incentive to leave. He’d decided it was better to bring
the Klan down from the inside than to leave and have no fucking life, a target forever on his head for deserting the cause. Didn’t know if I could trust him at first. But he’d come through time and time again.
“He didn’t warn me about today though.” And I was gonna find out the fuck why.
The bottle was almost done when Zane came over to Tank and said that Ky was calling for the brothers in church. “Church!” Tank shouted when Zane cut the music. I waited until the brothers had left, then followed in last. The room was crammed. But everyone had a seat. Styx sat at the front, quiet as always, but his eyes blazing with fire.
He had just lifted his hands to speak when Arizona and Gull’s prez burst through the door. “They’d hung them from trees. Like they’d been lynched,” he said. His eyes were red and bulging with rage.
I closed my eyes briefly. “String them up,” I said. I smiled as the bodies of our old Klan brothers started to swing from the trees, the heavy wind moving them back and forth like pendulums. Charles took out a can of spray paint and drew on the cross and circle—our white-power symbol. That would teach the fuckers to try and leave us, to try and get the feds on our asses. “Leave them,” I ordered. “Let people find them. Let them know the Klan is not to be fucked with.”
When I opened my eyes, it was to see Tank watching me. He must have known I was remembering what we used to do . . . because he’d been there for a lot of them. He’d been standing right beside me.
When the room came back into focus, the brothers were all talking over one another, fucking pissed. A loud whistle cut through the room. Styx stood. His eyes bored into every one of us, telling us all to shut the fuck up or he’d do it for us. When everyone calmed and took their seats, Styx stayed standing.
His eyes fixed on me. He raised his hands, and Ky spoke for him. “We need to know all about them. We need to know how they’re organized. The training they’ve had. What they believe. Fucking everything. We need to know these fuckers inside and out.”
