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Footsteps walked beside him, and he looked up as Silvie climbed into the ambo.
“Not leaving you, Manny,” she promised as Apache reached to drag her to safety.
Manny grasped her hand, and she clung tightly to him.
“Silvie,” Apache warned.
She turned, hissed at him, and the doors shut as the vehicle sped away.
Slick
Two days later, Manny limped into the clubhouse. He’d had bullets removed and been stitched. Surprisingly, Silvie had stayed with him the whole time. The stubborn woman had refused to leave his bedside. Her actions had shocked most of the brothers and touched them all; the fact she stayed by Manny’s side meant the world.
Slick tilted his head at her as she hovered around Manny, to Manny’s despair. Even now, she didn’t waver in her watchful position over their healing brother.
Slick thought Manny was going to be driven insane, but he noted the rather smug gleam in Manny’s eyes, too. No brother would worry too much about a beautiful woman giving him attention.
“You out tonight?” Silvie murmured to him and grabbed some worn cushions to put behind Manny’s back. Slick stared, and she smiled. “Make them hurt.”
Slick offered her a shocked stare that tracked her as she returned a sad smile and walked away.
Marsha leant close to her, and Silvie whispered something.
Marsha nodded, glanced in his direction, and gave him a nod.
Slick moved toward Manny, wanting to watch his brother be fussed over, but Drake wandered towards him at the same time, Ace at his side and Apache at the other.
Drake had restructured Rage. Ace was now VP. Fish remained Sergeant at Arms. Apache became an Enforcer—alongside Gunner. Texas held Secretary, and Axel was Chaplin. Drake had put the positions to vote, and no one had gone against him.
“You can ride?” Ace asked Manny.
“Try to keep me from it.”
“Let’s roll,” Drake muttered.
Their new president’s leadership inspired faith in the club and brotherhood. Following his orders was natural—easy—andcompletely void of the constant moral battle that’d been waged inside of them each time Bulldog had come up with a new plot for easy money. So, they filed out and rode to the Black Hills. An old shack, filled with the promise of revenge, was waiting for them.
???
Tied to sturdy chairs, Prince and Mad Dog sat as Rage walked into the wet room. Prince had never been the type to give up quietly, but that was how he would leave the earth.
Ace picked up a knife.
Before Prince could say a word, he slashed the man’s throat. Clean and deep.
Mad Dog watched, horrified, as Prince choked and bled out, and Ace then turned a cold gaze on Mad Dog.
“I know Prince shot to distract while you, you fuckin’ coward, hid and took the shots at my brother.”
“Fuck you, asshole,” Mad Dog spat, his gaze flicking to his twitching brother as the last of Prince’s fight abandoned him.
Ace smiled, and even Drake shuddered.
“Yeah, you’ll be singing a different tune pretty soon.”
Thirty later, Mad Dog began begging. An hour later, his throat was hoarse from screaming. Two hours after, he joined Prince in death.
Ace casually cleaned his hands with an old rag.
