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Lifting the gun in my hand, I aim for his chest, while he mirrors my stance, aiming his gun at mine.
“Give the word, Cas, and we’ll pump every bullet we have into his body,” Pope growls.
I don’t take my eyes off of Bert, but I can see from the corner of my eye my brothers inching closer, their guns ready.
“No. I killed his son, and I’ll kill him too.”
Bert’s grin shifts from one of cockiness to one of peace. The fucker knows there are only a handful of breaths left for him to take.
“You want me dead, you best shoot me. Time’s running out,” I warn, squeezing the trigger.
Years ago, I had no voices in my head screaming for me to escape this situation and stay alive. Since the day I gave myself to Alannah, her screams fill my head as if she were here. The fire from my gun hits the air a second before Bert’s, but we fall to the floor at the same time. Chaos erupts around me as I roll my head to the side to make sure I hit my target. Bert coughs up blood, but he’s not dead yet. My shot missed his heart by a couple of inches. Lifting my head, I look down at my stomach, seeing the blood staining the T-shirt under my cut.
“Kill that asshole!” I yell. Before I even get the words out, numerous shots are fired, and I strain to look over to my brothers surrounding Bert’s bullet riddled body.
Sparky and Pope drop down beside me, their hands pressing down on my wound to stop the blood.
“We need to get you to the hospital, brother,” Sparky pants, worry marring his features.
Shaking my head, or thinking I am, I say, “You need to find the fed. Aaron can’t help us for shit now.”
“I’m more fucking concerned about you right now.”
I roll my head over to look at Pope, knowing he’ll be the one to act with a cool head.
“Get the rat out of here. He tries anything funny, kill him, and bury them all somewhere no one will ever find them.”
Nodding, he heaves himself up and gets to work.
Knowing that will be taken care of, I close my eyes.
“Slade! Ricky! Help me lift him!” Sparky barks out sharply.
Strangely, the pain disappears, and I wonder: is this it? Did I wake up this morning not realising this could be my final day? The cancer diagnosis just about wrecked me, but I knew I’d survive because I wouldn’t let it take me out. I always knew it would be from a bullet wound; I’m not usually wrong, and I wasn’t about this. I did have hope, though, that it would be Alannah’s face I last saw before death took me. Her face has been the one I think of when waking, and the last before falling asleep. Even after all these years, I haven’t had enough with her—I never could.
A sharp sting hits my cheek. When my eyes flutter open, I find I’m in the back of the van, Sparky’s hovering over me. I hear Ricky and Slade shouting in the front, but I can’t make out what they’re saying.
“Leo isn’t ready for the gavel, but he’ll take it. You gotta guide him in the right direction.”
“Why? You going somewhere?”
The playfulness in his tone is forced, but it’s who he is. He’s the guy who tries to find the silver lining in times like this.
“I’m fucking dying, brother. Hell is waiting for me.”
Talking is too hard, and blood spurts from my mouth as I try to clear my throat.
“The fuck you are. Shut your fucking mouth. You’ve been shot before and came through. You had cancer for fuck’s sake and beat it. You let this take you out, I’ll be embarrassed for you.”
Ignoring him, trying to keep shit light, I say, “Promise you’ll watch over Alannah and my boys.”
“Shut the fuck up, Cas.”
Trying to lift my hand is a chore, but I weakly grip onto Sparky’s cut and pull him closer so I don’t have to use much energy trying to be heard. The closer he is, the clearer I see the tears streaming down his cheeks.
“You know I’m dying, and I need to hear you promise me you’ll look after my family, keep them fucking close.”
Sniffing hard, he scrubs his face and turns angry. “Cas, if—and I mean if—you die, you fucking know I’ll look out for them. Everyone in the club will. Don’t insult me by having to ask.”
