“To the Hangmen. We could explain what happened. We could—”
“Fuck, Mae! They’ll kill me. Don’t you understand the gravity of what I’ve done? I turned coat on the club. Set up Pit as the rat. Basically killed Lois, and worse than that, I took you from Styx.”
A stone-cold expression hardened his features as I shook my head in disagreement and he threw away my hands. “What am I f**kin’ trying so hard for, Mae?” he said in exasperation, a gutting pain in his deep voice. “You sold your soul to Satan when you chose him, and turned your back on the cause. You’re blinded by darkness.”
“Wait! Rider!” I shouted as he got off the bed and made his way to the door. He stopped dead and his wide back bunched.
He turned slowly… menacingly. “It’s Brother Cain, Salome, and it’s about time you learned your place! You’re a temptress, a sinner… Styx’s whore. I wash my hands of you. Sister Eve will be by shortly to prepare you for the ceremony. And this time, do not even think of running away. You will be punished… severely if you do.”
Cain stormed through the door and, with him, took my best friend Rider.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Styx
A knock sounded at my door. I didn’t answer, too lost in my own thoughts as I sat on the edge of my bed, preparing for the shit about to go down. I always got like this before we went to war, but this time, I had much more to lose.
A moment later, the door opened. Ky.
“Prez, everyone’s here. We’re all waiting for you,” he said, walking into my room.
“H-how m-many came?”
Ky stood before me, dressed in his full leathers, his long blond hair tied back, battle ready. “‘Bout four hundred.”
I raised my eyebrows, impressed that so many brothers had managed to make it here in time. Sucking in a deep breath, I got to my feet, casting one last look at my closet door. Ky followed my line of sight.
“She’ll get to wear it, Styx,” Ky stated with conviction. I stared at Mae’s vest, the one I’d had made especially for her f**kin’ tiny size, Property of Styx stitched on its back. I was gonna give it to her when the bastards burst into my room, ripping her from me.I just hoped my VP was right.
“I’ll m-meet you out f-front,” I informed.
Ky left me alone and I move to suit up: full leathers, strapped on my holster holding my Uzis, my 9mm, my Bowie hunter, and my favorite Bundeswehr knife. I was gonna carve up a few f**kers with these, leave some lifelong smiles.
Walking to my black leather chair, I ran my hand down Mae’s leathers laid over the arm. Her Hangmen tank still smelled like her, all sweet and completely f**kin’ Mae. Taking this small piece of black cotton, I brought it to my nose and inhaled deeply before I tucked it into the waistband of my leathers.
She would be my talisman.
As I entered the yard, a sea of Hangmen on their bikes stared expectantly at me. My chapter was front and center, all waiting for my command… all waiting for me to talk.
Ky stepped beside me at the top of the stairs and asked quietly, “You sign, I translate?”
I nodded my head curtly and stepped forward, signaling with a wave of my hand for the hundreds of brothers to quiet. All I could hear were crickets. All I could see was leather and chrome. All I could feel was the python wrapped around my f**kin’ throat.
Setting aside my worries, I lifted my hands and began to sign.
Brothers, y’all have been called here as we’re going to war. A new organization, some f**ked-up extreme religious cult has been threatening this club. Threatening our name. Threatening our turf.
The Hangmen began shifting on their bike’s seats as Ky spoke my words. Teeth were bared; fists were flexing. They were pissed. Good.
The commune we’re going into is heavily guarded, some serious concentration camp shit. Acres of land. Huge perimeter fence. We got aerial shots from the senator—ain’t nothing like we’ve took on before. We go in teams. Split into chapters, work our way into the center of the commune, the stronghold. Ky has given you the entry points and maps.
The brothers nodded, assuring me they understood the plan so far.
We think there are about two thousand folks living there. More than half are women and children. Leave them the f**k alone. This ain’t no Waco massacre… unless, of course, they come at you first. We don’t know who’ll be armed until we go in. It’s a blind mission; that’s for f**kin’ sure.
The Order, as they’re known, trade guns, good quality shit from Gaza: Carbines, Jerichos, Tavor Rifles, Uzis, snipers. That’s only the ammo we know of.