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Thirty minutes later, I burst into church, driven by fucking red-hot revenge. My chapter sat at the front of the room, the other chapters taking up every other bit of space. I didn’t fucking sit. I paced. Then I stood before them all, making sure all eyes were on me. I fucking let the fire in my veins lead the way. Ky didn’t question what the fuck was going on. My VP stood beside me, and spoke for me when I signed. “AK, clear the armory. Today we ride to Laredo, fully fucking loaded with guns, grenades, and whatever the fuck else we can take. Chavez and Shadow are waiting for us.”
“What’s happening?” AK asked.
“We’re going to Mexico.” I met every one of my brothers’ eyes. “We’re going to fucking war.”
*****
The low burn of the truck’s light was the only thing illuminating the space. I sat with my back against the wall. Ky sat opposite me. We all held Uzis. Tank was beside Ky. AK and Smiler took up the front—I didn’t give a fuck about Smiler’s ban. Brother was fucking fueled with as much revenge as me. He was one of the best fighters we had. He fucking deserved this, Wrox be fucking damned. AK and Smiler would be the first to go out. Viking, Hush, Cowboy, Bull, and Flame took up the rest of the cabin.
“The minute the door opens, we fucking fire,” AK said, his voice low so no fucker would hear. He checked his GPS. “Five minutes.” Then tension within the truck built as the minutes ticked down. My foot was fucking tapping on the floor. I could practically taste the blood I was about to spill. I could hear the screams from the cunts I was about to carve up. Nobody messes with my club. Nobody messes with my brothers.
And no fucker messes with my family.
We were in a trafficking truck. Shadow had arranged it. Like the Trojan fucking horse, we were sneaking across enemy lines in the trucks that carried their slaves into their camps. Shadow, Chavez, and the Diablos were in another truck. The other Hangmen chapters were hidden in the rest. The Diablos had taken down a camp that held the trucks, killed every last one of the Klan fuckers running it. Freed the bitches, and got us the trucks.
The plan to take down the Klan and the cartel assholes was simple. All of us in this life had enemies. Quintana was no different. In the drug game, you were always one massacre away from being taken over. Shadow gave me the name of the fucker who wanted what the Quintana family had. He’d been trying to take them out for years. Faron Valdez. We made contact . . .
The rest was a fucking cakewalk.
The Klan—all except the leaders—were camped out in one place. Their mothership trafficking camp in Mexico. It made the fucktards sitting ducks. Valdez would take the cartel. I checked my watch. He would have already made his move.
We were about to make our move on the Klan.
The truck rocked to a stop. I gripped my Uzi. I felt the fucking familiar rush of adrenaline sail through me. War. There was nothing fucking like it. I let the words from my mother’s journal fill my head. I let them fucking ignite the fire in my heart until it swelled my veins and made me want nothing but to see Nazis falling to the fucking ground under my bullets and German blade.
A knock sounded on the side of the truck—the signal from the paid-off driver that the door was about to be opened.
AK held up his hand, our ex-Special Forces sniper leading the way. And my eyes zeroed in on the door. The lock unlatched, and the second the door rolled up, AK burst from the truck and opened a fucking sea of fire. In seconds, we were behind him. Nazis immediately started falling before us. My pulse raced faster and faster the more the fuckers fell, blood pooling on the ground beneath them and running under my feet. Truck after truck opened and our brothers spilled out. Trucks from all fucking directions came skidding into the camp, doors flying open, my brothers spilling out like fucking demons. Diablos and fucking Hangmen swarmed toward these fuckers as they started firing back.
“I’m going to higher ground,” AK said from beside me as I shot a blond giant right between the fucking eyes. I nodded, and he disappeared behind a dark building. Bullets were flying from every fucking direction. Hangmen and Diablo cuts started hitting the ground too. It didn’t stop us.
I scanned the area for my chapter. Ky, Tank and Bull, Hush and Cowboy were firing their Uzis from the right, hitting targets. Vike and Rudge were together on my left, doing the same. Flame had his knife in one hand, Uzi in the other, hacking up the fuckers he shot first. Smiler was the furthest ahead. Deep in among the Klan who were pouring out in fucking waves from the buildings. Brother was shooting, then using his knife to cut off fingers, tongues, ears . . . whatever fucking else he could, before taking down another. He was going postal . . . but he had the fucking right.
Seeing a Klansmen coming from my right, I sent a bullet through his head. Another three fell because of my bullets. Then I noticed what looked like the headquarters ahead. Whistling to Ky and Tank, I pointed at the building. Klan were dropping fast. There were too many of us for them to take without the support of the cartel. I scoured the area for any cartel—nowhere to be fucking seen.
Seemed Valdez was holding up his part of the deal.
Shooting my way through the Klan charging at us, I made a path for the headquarters. The giant swastika that hung outside made it fucking obvious this was where shit went down. Assholes. Always made themselves easy to fucking work out. Never knew how to just shut the fuck up with all the Nazi shit.
Making it to the front of the building, I killed the fucker who came running out—a shot straight through the heart. He fell at my feet, and I spat on his ugly fucking white-power face. I stood to the side of the building; Tank and Ky did the same. Nodding at Ky, I smashed the door and started searching the rooms. Nothing. There was nothing fucking here.
A shot suddenly rang out from my right. The bullet grazed my arm. I glanced down at the wound—the fucker had drawn blood. Pissed the fuck off, I charged in that direction. I knocked the fucker to the ground the minute I found him hiding behind a door. Taking my German knife, I sliced it into his thigh. The moment his gun fell from his hand, I grabbed the prick by his neck and dragged him to his feet. Pulling out my knife, I held it to his throat and threw him into the main body of the building. Ky and Tank came running in.
“Empty. None of the leaders are here,” Ky said.
Tank looked at the prick trying to pull out of my arms. He smiled, but it was nothing but a bloodthirsty fucking grin. “Keaton Brown.”
The asshole in my arms tried to run at Tank. I let that fucker go, and Tank slammed his fist into the Nazi’s face. He knocked him to the ground. Tank picked him up and held him still. Walking toward him, I plunged my German blade right into the fucker’s shoulder. He screamed, and I made sure I was looking into his fucking eyes as I did so.
Pulling back my knife, I nodded to Ky. Ky kicked the Nazi off his feet. Fucker sprawled on the floor, groaning. Brothers started coming in through the door. Bull lowered his gun when he realized it was us. Vike, Rudge, Smiler, Flame, Cowboy, Hush, and AK came in too. They were covered in blood and wired from their kills.
“Other chapters are on the perimeters for any fuckers trying to escape. Diablos are making contact with Valdez.” AK lowered his rifle. “The camp is ours.”
I turned to the fucker on the floor. As I pocketed my knife and gun, Ky spoke my sign aloud. “Where’s Landry, Beau Ayers, and the governor?” I stepped closer until my foot stepped on the fucker’s fingers. I smiled when his bones crunched under my boot.
The Nazi looked up, but only after the pissant had stopped screaming. “Not here,” he spat out through gritted teeth . . . then the asshole tried to smile. Taking my knife from my pocket, I started slicing an “H” into his chest. He screamed again, his body jumping. Tank yanked up his head.
“Where are they, cunt?” Ky snarled. When the prick didn’t answer, I dug my knife across his stomach. “He can do this all day,” Ky said, as the Nazis eyes started to roll in pain.
Tank leaned down. “Tell us where they are, Keaton, and where you’ve got Tanner, and it’ll
be a quick death.” At the mention of Tanner, the fucker smiled. Blood stained his teeth.
He spat blood to the floor. “That traitor will die,” he hissed.
Will die . . . Tanner was still alive.
Moving in front of the Nazi, I rolled my neck, then drove my blade into his thigh. He nearly passed the fuck out. With every new slice or cut I made, he screamed until he was too fucking far gone to scream anymore.
“Tell us,” Tank demanded. The Nazi was close to death—but not close enough. I could make this last a few more hours at least. “Tell us and it’ll be quick.”
The Nazi met my eyes. Then his bruised lips opened. “Safe house . . . fifteen miles . . . north west.”
“How do we get there?” Ky asked.
“Private . . . road.”
“And where’s Tanner?” Tank pushed.
The Nazi smiled again. It boiled my fucking piss. “He’ll be there . . . by now.” He choked on the blood starting to claw its way up his throat, but managed, “He’ll be killed . . . the White Prince will fall.”
I sliced my knife across his mouth, shutting him the fuck up, then stabbed the fucker in the neck. His eyes widened, and Tank kicked the asshole to the floor as he choked on his blood. I turned to AK. “Coordinates,” I signed.
“On it,” he said, and took the area map Valdez had sent us from his cut. AK marked out where the safe house was. “We’ll have to go most of the way by foot or they’ll hear us.”
I heard the sound of cars entering the camp. “Valdez?” Ky asked.
“Should be,” I signed.
“Be ready to fight,” Ky told the brothers, and I led the way into back into the center of the camp. I stopped just as we got outside.
“Y’all go for Tanner. We’ll follow as soon as this is done.” I pointed to myself and Ky. I held my cell up to AK. “Send me the route.” He nodded, and our brothers took off.
Three black cars stopped in the center of the camp. Dead Nazis, some fallen Diablos and Hangmen littered the ground. A guy in a black suit got out of the driver’s side door of the middle car. He opened the back door, and an older man got out. I stepped to the front of my men, and he immediately came toward me. “Styx Nash, I presume?”
Ky stepped beside me. “He doesn’t talk.”
