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Silas finally let out a small laugh, looking around the room. “Relax. He wouldn’t be sitting here alive if I had any intention of following through with the threat.” His blank inspection returned to me. “You, on the other hand, I haven’t decided about yet.”
Wes went rigid behind me.
“Start explaining, Roman, or we’re just going to make an executive decision. Any threat to Little Fox is a threat to the club,” Killian warned, bringing his hands together in front of him.
Wes had a death grip on me, which was the only indication that he was barely in control of his temper.
I looked over at Silas with a new understanding as I considered what Kill had just called him. This was the Roman they kept talking about. Stupid nickname, if you asked me, but maybe I was biased and just hated his guts.
Leaning back, unfazed, Silas stared at the wall across from me. With a malicious smirk, he shook his head, which had my eyes scanning the space he kept drifting to. There on the wall, among other memorabilia, was a Death Raider cut with a railroad spike pinning it to the wall. Dried blood covered the leather, including most of the white lettering that revealed the name:Poet.
Whoever the man was had obviously died, maybe that was angering the other Death Raider in the room?
Finally Silas let out a sigh, lounging back in his chair. “Dirk wants Callie. He’s been looking for a new old lady, says he wants her, and said he’s willing to renegotiate terms of the property.”
My belly filled with dread, while my skin felt like someone had just splattered it with mud. I didn’t remember Dirk; I’d never been close enough to see him while conscious, but I didn’t have to remember him to know I never wanted to be in the same room as him.And apparently I had, at some point.
I turned my face to take in Wesley’s expression, but he gave nothing away. He was all walled off, brick and stone so that nothing showed. There was a tiny part of me that was curious if Wes would prefer this, so I was out of his hair and his precious club was free and clear of the threat of being taken. I realized no one had spoken, and all eyes were on me, as though they were waiting on my decision, all except Wes.
The tightness of his fingers screamed that he was about to lose it.
“What do you say, Wes? Think your preciousRivercan take one for the team by being the new queen of Raider territory? It’d make her untouchable…might be the safest place for her.”
My lips parted when he used my nickname. No one else had ever used that nickname but Wes. It was his endearment for me, and only his.
“Ah, fuck,” Killian sighed, scooting back in his chair.
I had no warning before Wes briskly stood, depositing me in his chair.
It all happened within a single breath. Killian lifted Silas by the arms, holding him still while Wes stepped up and punched the Roman in the nose with a sickening crunch. Then he threw another hit, and another. I winced each time I heard his fist connect.
“You think this is funny? Think you can come in here and saythatfucking name?”
Another punch landed in Silas’s stomach, but Killian held him up, so Wes continued to have a clear shot, but he didn’t need anymore. A silver-plated revolver was pulled out and was now pointed directly at the Raiders forehead. The room went silent.
Silas didn’t say a word to defend himself, nothing at all.
“Wes,” I whispered, as the hammer was pulled back and the gun was prepped to shoot.
Wesley’s fist was red as he stared Silas down, pointing the gun directly at his face.
The room watched on, and I noticed all the other members had their guns drawn, down and out of sight. The only sound was Silas’s heavy breathing and Wesley’s boots as he stepped closer to the bleeding man.
Wes gripped Silas by the hair and tipped his face back, placing the gun to his cheek. “She is not a commodity in this club. She is not a piece of property to be traded or discussed. You don’t look at her. You don’t speak to her. She is mine, and only mine. Do you understand me?”
The deadly quiet in Wesley’s words slid into my chest, cracking something open. It was like smashing a mirror and being able to step through it, into a different time. My mind flashed back to feeling left out, forgotten, and alone, and it all reeled into this one moment, right here where Wes had just boldly chosen me. Not the club, not something that would benefit them, but me.
Silas smiled, showing his bloodied mouth, and the idiot stared at me from his awkward position.
I realized then that he had a death wish, an actual desire to die.
“Fine, Ryan. She’s safe from club politics. I’ll let you keep what Simon stole from you. But mark my words”—he tipped his head, his broken nose gushing blood as he caught Wesley’s gaze—“what I did here was a kindness to you. I expect it to be repaid when I’m president of the Death Raiders. Your club took something that belongs to me, and when the time is right, I’m coming back for it. Understand?”
Chills swept down my arms, knowing there was something deeper going on here. Silas knew something or had made his own plans. I wanted to speak up, try to calm things down, but I knew I’d only make them worse, so I sat there and bit my lip so hard I could taste blood.
“You don’t get to just come in here and pick a Stone Rider to keep, like a puppy,” Killian joked, strengthening his hold on the hostage in front of him.
Silas continued to stare at Wesley as though they were silently communicating.
