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Fuck. I really do love her. It’s the only conclusion I can come to, to explain how I fucking feel. It’s absolutely intoxicating and fucking all consuming.
Needing to have her body against mine, I pull her side into mine and face Rocco again as he clears his throat.
“Next is the scotch, Gunner’s drink of choice.”
My club brothers pick up the scotch, and it takes me a moment to realize that the Cruz Cunts haven’t picked up their shot of scotch.
“What?” I say quietly confused, but Zoe moves quickly, picking up her shot of scotch and holding it up, nodding to the other women to do the same. They all fucking hesitate for a moment, but when Zoe shoots them a glare, they all pick up the shots and raise them.
“What the hell is going on?” I lean closer to Zoe and whisper.
Looking up at me, she leans close. “I’ll fill you in later.”
What the hell? There’s something else going on?
Fucking hell, will this drama never fucking end?
Even as I think it, I know it won’t until every fucking Reaper has been removed from existence.
“To the man of few words that hid behind his fucking bushy beard. May your bed in hell always be warm, your dick always buried in cunt, and your hand always holding a scotch.” Rocco raises his glass. “Gunner.”
“Gunner.” We all repeat before throwing back the shot, and again, the glasses clang on the tables.
Zoe shudders next to me, and a glance down shows me her face cringing from the scotch. I bite back a chuckle, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable.
“Last one.” Rocco announces, “The tequila is for Slayer.”
Everyone picks up the shot glass filled with clear liquid, and as Zoe cringes again, I lean down and whisper.
“You don’t have to shoot it, Princess.”
Shaking her head, she glares at me. “I might be a lightweight when it comes to you men, but I can do this to honor Slayer.”
My smile spreads a little wider, feeling more genuine than it has in a couple of days. “Okay, Princess.”
Her lips attempt to spread wider in her own smile, but she forces it back, probably feeling like it’s wrong to do while we are remembering our fallen.
“To our in-house pirate.” Rocco starts, gaining our attention again, “May your blade remain sharp, your cock accessible to endless pussy, and your soul forever tethered to your clone and eternal brother, Slasher. Here’s to Slayer.”
“Slayer.” We all choke out, and I fucking need a second before I can down the shot because a lump the size of a fucking baseball is lodged in my throat.
Choked out cries filter through the room as the women slam their glasses down.
My eyes find Slasher who has fallen to his knees, Alana by his side as she consoles him.
“Gray,” Zoe whispers, no longer able to hold back the tears, so I drag her against me and fucking hold on. I hold on like I never want to let go.
“Brothers!” Rocco calls, his voice husky and his eyes haunted with pain. “Chant.”
The room falls silent, and Rocco looks to me. “Do you mind?”
I nod, feeling honored that he’d ask, knowing he’s hanging by a thin fucking thread. I can do this for him. For my brothers. For my family.
I blow out a breath before clearing my throat, and Zoe goes to move away from me, obviously thinking she shouldn’t be latched to me as I perform this duty, but she’s dead fucking wrong.
I tighten my grip on her, allowing her simply to cuddle into my side, and no further as I start our chant and my brothers join in.
With honor we ride, side by side.
