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“Anyway,” Thane says. “Remy just found out what the retribution will be. The Kings are sending people here within the next few weeks. They’re gonna force a patch over.”
The words I had been dreading hang in the air like smoke threatening to choke me.
“I knew it! I fucking knew as soon as they formed the Rockland chapter that they would come for us. Everyone told me I was being paranoid, but I knew.”
“There’s no fucking way we’re gonna back down to those fuckers,” Hank says.
“Let’s vote it,” I say before we get any further along on this discussion. “All opposed to this forced patch over, raise your fucking hand.”
Every single man at the table raises their hand except for Thane.
“Traitor,” Hank growls at him.
“I’m not going to fight against RJ and the Kings! I love him, so if it’s a choice between RJ or the Devil Hounds…” Shoving his chair back, Thane stands up and slips off his cut. Tossing it on the table, he looks right at me when he says, “You’re making a huge mistake, Isaac, if you refuse to back down. You can’t win this war. Are you willing to let your pride end this in bloodshed?” Picking up his cut again, he looks the other men in the eye one at a time. “This is nothing but leather and patches sewn by thread. Nothing but the patch has to change,” he says before throwing it back down.
“That’s bullshit, and you know it, kid,” I tell him. “I warned you all this was going to happen. We won’t take orders from children.”
“Then this is goodbye,” Thane says before he goes over to the door and throws it open to walk out.
“Anybody else want to join him?” I ask the table. Nobody says a word. “Then we need to come up with a plan to keep our club.”
Weeks, Thane had said. Weeks until shit is going to hit the fan.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR
Holly
“You just going to pretend you didn’t hear your phone dinging with new messages?” Brooke asks while we’re lounging in the living room in our pajamas. The past few nights, we’ve been binging the dating show about sex-crazed twenty-somethings stranded together on a beach, trying to find love.
I hate them all.
“I’ll check my phone later,” I tell her absently.
“You still haven’t told Lyla you’re pregnant, have you?”
“Nope.”
“Oh, Holly. She’s your best friend!”
“I don’t know about that. We barely talk nowadays.”
“Because you ignore her texts!” she exclaims. “You have to tell her eventually.”
“I know,” I huff. “But I don’t want to lie to her face. It’s messed up.”
“Then tell her the truth.”
“That’s even more messed up.”
“So you’re just going to ignore her until she gives up and stops trying?”
I swallow around the lump in my throat as I consider that. Now that Lyla is living with her boyfriend, they’ll be getting married soon, having babies. She’ll have less time for me anyway.
“I’m sorry, but…” Brooke grabs my phone, waves it in front of my face to unlock it, and then her thumbs are moving, typing.
“What are you doing?” I shout as I lean over to try and grab my phone back. I’m too slow. She’s already up and walking across the room, still texting, and I’m too exhausted to chase her. Just one of the perks of being in the second trimester. At least the morning sickness is gone. “Brooke! Give me my phone, and I’ll reply.”
“No, you won’t. You’ve left the girl’s last text unread for a week! She’s worried about you. I’m telling her that you’ve had a lot going on, and she’ll understand when she sees you tomorrow for a dinner date.”
