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Grayson
Pride has me standing taller today after witnessing the strength of Zoe yesterday standing up for her Cruz Cunts. Even though Rocco forced her into the role after he banished Cara, she’s taken the duty by both hands and fucking made it her own.
I wouldn’t have cared if she didn’t want to continue with the responsibility. All I cared was that she was here safe, but fuck, each day that passes she gets stronger and stronger, fighting demons we can’t even see, but know taunt her every waking and sleeping moment.
I used to think strength was a physical thing. Muscle. Toughness. Who could beat who down faster with their fists.
Zoe has shown me just how fucking superficial that thought process was.
In the dictionary next to the word strength should be the name, Zoe Miller.
Ever since yesterday when Zoe reconfirmed her position as the Mama, the Cruz Cunts have been buzzing around on some sort of fucking high. It’s good to see them happy, and even though Tio stepped over the line yesterday, the Cruz Cunts’ good mood had them seeking the poor guy out and showing him again how they care for him.
It’s the first time since taking on the role of Prez that things have felt relatively normal.
Light.
Almost like we aren’t at war with another club.
Unfortunately Zoe’s scars, which she is showing freely now, are a reminder to us all that things are very much not normal. And they won’t be until the Reapers are gone.
Until Gunner has been executed, Kings’ style.
His betrayal sits like lead in the pit of my stomach. I should have fucking known. I should have fucking questioned his behavior. I should never have been so fucking blind.
If only I had paid more attention to his attitude toward the decisions Rocco was making. The way he wanted Zoe to be traded in return for our money with the Reapers. Hell, if we had done that, then he would have left sooner and taken his place as the Reapers VP, torturing Zoe earlier.
It was always about her.
Why the fuck didn’t I see that until it was too late?
One thing is for sure. I’ll never be blindsided again.
The gate bell rings, and Tex checks the screen, advising me that Baz is here.
Dante had sent a message earlier today saying he was sending someone with an intel update, but I naturally thought it would be Cain. Not Baz.
When the clubhouse door opens, and the sharply dressed dark-haired Aussie strides in, a hush falls over the room.
I snicker. “You look too fucking fancy to be dressed like that here.” I gesture to his suit that probably cost more than everything in this fucking room.
He cocks a dark brow. “You want me to take off my jacket and shirt and show you what I have underneath, Black? I bet you I fit in better than you.”
Chuckling, I nod, moving in his direction. “Probably.” We meet in the middle, shaking hands. “Where shall we do this?”
Baz shrugs. “If this information is confidential, then let’s go to your office. If not, here’s fine.”
I turn, examining the room and the people in it. A lot of my club brothers are here, and the Cruz Cunts are sitting with Zoe across the room talking about how much cash they are raking in with their fans’ website. There’s nothing toindicate that we have a mole anymore. In fact, since Gunner and Rhiannon left, we haven’t had any issues suggesting we have a rat.
“Here is fine.” I gesture to the table next to us, and Baz sits, laying out his laptop and a folder.
Gesturing to Tex with my fingers, he gives me a nod, grabbing the bottle of Jack and two glasses, as I take a seat with Baz before Tex comes over, pouring us each a drink. Baz nods a thanks, and I swear Tex has fucking stars in his eyes as he smiles warmly back at the Mafia man in our clubhouse before he hurries back over to the bar.
“Your men aren’t very fucking scary,” Baz mutters as he flips open the laptop, a slight smirk tugging at his lips and I chuckle.
“Not when you’re around, apparently. You look too fucking pretty.”
Baz smirks wider, nodding like he’s in fucking agreement. “Sometimes it’s hard being this hot.”
