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Fuck yeah, seventeen, eighteen with himself.
Shuffling about, Drake kept a sharp eye on Bulldog’s side. He’d twenty-one. In the middle milled seven brothers, Texas, Ghost, Gid, and Jacked included.
Jacked and Gid moved over to Drake, and Bulldog went puce. He sent them a look that promised retribution. They were now equal. Three brothers stood. One moved over to Bulldog, and smugness crossed his face.
The two left were Texas and Ghost.
“What’s your plan for the club?” Texas asked Drake.
“Take it back to our values, our roots, make us legit,” Drake said.
Ghost strode to Drake’s side.
Drake was again equal with Bulldog.
Texas held the casting vote, and Drake wasn’t one hundred per cent certain Texas would side with him. Texas dropped his head and then looked at the picture on the wall of Arrow, Drake’s da.
“I was first recruit, ya know? This illegal crap was never Arrow’s preference. I attempted to undermine the shit that we were doing. Attempted to stop that cunt takin’ the club the route he wanted.” Texas pointed at Bulldog. “Tried to stop the assholes being brought in as brothers. Tonight, I get to do that.”
Slick nearly crowed as Texas walked to their side, giving them the vote.
Drake moved to hug Texas.
Bulldog’s face set, and before anyone knew it, he drew a knife. He aimed it at Drake’s back and let go. Shouts erupted, and a body hit the floor. Everyone looked down at Ace, who was slowly getting to his feet and pulling the blade from his shoulder.
Ace stabbed it in the table with a death stare at Bulldog.
A stunned silence fell over everyone.
“You drew blood in the sanctum? Against a brother?” Ghost said, appalled.
“I’m the fuckin’ pres,” Bulldog snarled, spittle flying from his lips.
He was so whacked he didn’t even care he’d broken the most basic rule. No weapons allowed in church. And certainly no bloodshed.
“Not anymore, not by vote of your brothers,” Axel boomed, and a large, meaty hand came out and grabbed Bulldog and dragged him over. Axel took the knife still with Ace’s blood on and deliberately cut the pres patch from Bulldog.
“Fuckin’ no brother,” Axel intoned. “One rule above all others: never attack a brother. Don’t betray. Always have your brother’s back. Nothing comes before a brother.” Axel kept going as he sliced the Rage patch, followed by 2ndgen patch. He clenched his fist and rammed it into Bulldog’s gut, dropping him.
“Your justice,” he stated, looking at Ace and stabbing the knife into the table.
“Let him fuckin’ rot,” Ace snarled.
Blood dripped freely from his shoulder wound.
“All of ya, clear out. You took a side, and now Rage is ours. It was the wrong choice,” Texas demanded.
“You can’t kick us out!” Thunder exclaimed, shocked.
“All you wanna do is whore, drink, and do drugs. That ain’t for Rage anymore. Rage is returning to its roots. You aren’t welcome here. I’m excommunicating all of ya. Get your shit, fuck off. Black your ink, or we will,” Drake ordered.
He sauntered over to the table.
“To stab a brother in the back.” Drake picked up the knife. “Cowardly act. If you’re gonna come at me, come at me face to face. Like I did you. You never respected me, Bulldog, and you always underestimated me. I’m the fuckin’ founder’s son. I outrank you, asshole. Fuck me, what an asshole move.”
Drake shook his head and, in a move no one saw coming, jabbed Bulldog in the face and then shoved Bulldog’s own blade into Bulldog’s shoulder.
The overthrown president roared and reared away, and Drake pulled it out again. He took the knife and held it to Bulldog’s throat next.
