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“Still have to bury the bodies, though.”
Snorting, I keep my eyes on the scene playing out before me.
“You can’t honestly be surprised someone took Danny out. He was never the guy who played nice with others. He only looked out for himself,” Grace bellows.
Her hand is steady; I believe she won’t hesitate to shoot. Fuck, she killed her own father, so this guy should be no problem.
“He was still my son,” Bert roars, losing his cool.
“And we’re here for ours. In order to get him back, you need to die.”
Aaron takes a single step away from Grace toward Bert, scanning his men. A total fed move.
Once a fed, always a fed.
“I see no patches on your men. How loyal are they? Are they willing to die for you or because of you?”
Bert’s lips purse tightly together as he clasps his hands behind his back. Grace and Aaron can’t see from where they stand, but from up here, I can see the butt of his gun popping out of the back of his pants.
However this goes down, I still need Aaron to dig into the fed Bert captured. Pushing away from the railing, I stroll around the walkway and plod down the stairs. Numerous sets of eyes follow me, and I make sure to show my hands are free of weapons.
“Mark my words, you will all die today. Never again will you see the outside of these walls. If you drop to your knees and throw down your guns, you’ll live to see another day. You don’t need to die for this asshole. He has no loyalty to you, and he’d rather see you dead than him.”
My words trickle into their pinprick minds, and they look to one another before the big fucker on the end falls to his knees, places his gun on the floor, and shoves it away, out of his reach. Like dominos, fourteen men sink to their knees and surrender their weapons.
The two on either side of Bert remain still, but the majority of his men no longer pose a threat to me or mine.
Piercing the air with a whistle, Pope walks in with the rest of our brothers, guns aimed at anyone who isn’t us. Jerking my chin toward the men on their knees, they pale when my brothers stand behind them, our guns pointed at the backs of their heads.
“I have no loyalty to you, either. You came to town to hurt my club. You came here today to kill our sons. You don’t get to come back from that.” Roaming my eyes up and down the kneeling men, my disgust for them grows. “When will people learn? You come for my club, you’ll die.”
With a nod, Pope opens fire, and the first fucker falls forward, the blood from his head seeping onto the floor.
Thirteen shots echo around the empty mill, and thirteen more bodies fall to their deaths. The two remaining guys actually loyal to Bert stand taller, bracing themselves for their deaths to come for them at any moment. Gripping their guns a little tighter, their eyes flit from brother to brother, waiting to see who’s going to shoot first.
The game has just been ramped up, and I don’t plan to be on the losing side.
“You just can’t find loyal men these days,” Bert grunts. “I’m almost envious of you, Cas. No one understands what the patch means, knowing that when you step outside, you’re never alone.”
“My father was never loyal to you. You fed his ego, and that’s why he kept you around,” Grace spits out, her aim never wavering.
“He wasn’t loyal to you, either, Catherine.”
Enough of this. Their shitshow of a history has nothing to do with us, and I’m growing tired of listening to their back and forth.
“You want your son, shoot him, and be done with it already,” I snap, pulling her attention away from Bert.
It’ll be the first mistake I make today.
With her eyes on me, she doesn’t see the guy on Bert’s right lift his gun slightly higher and squint his eye for a better aim.
My lips part to yell for her to shoot, but the shot fired doesn’t come from her gun. Life is a series of moments that can never be reclaimed. You don’t get do-overs. One moment of her focusing on me is the reason the bullet enters the left side of her forehead, dropping her to the floor.
Swinging my eyes to Bert, I catch the fine trails of smoke floating out of the guy’s barrel.
Chapter Twenty
Ethan
