Chapter 1
The loud and rumbling pft pft pft of a motorcycle echoed through the neighborhood, alerting everyone of its arrival. The bike slowed to a stop in front of an old, run-down house.
It had been seventeen years since Dash laid eyes on that house. Seeing it now brought back fond memories from his childhood. Would the owner still be the same? There was only one way to find out.
He pulled his leg over the powerful motorcycle with a 123 horsepower engine. There was no helmet on top of his blond head. His tall, broad figure strode up to the door and he gave it a hearty knock.
A shuffling came from the other side of the door, then what sounded like a man grumbling.
“If you’re sellin’ something, you better take your ass–” came the gruff voice of the man as he opened the door, only he paused when he laid eyes on Dash. “Well, I’ll be damned…”
“Hey Cyrus. It’s been a while.”
Cyrus hadn’t changed much since Dash last saw him. He was a lot greyer than he used to be but he was still very much overweight with crazy wiry hair and a big bushy beard.
“You can fuckin’ say that again. Shit, you’re the spittin’ image of your old man,” Cyrus said.
Dash scoffed. “That’s why I’m here. You think I can come in?”
“Get your ass in here, boy,” Cyrus said, stepping away from the door.
Dash entered the home and Cyrus slapped a hand against the back of his shoulders before turning towards the living room. Dash followed him. The space wasn’t much to look at. There was trash littering the coffee table and the place smelled heavily of cigarette smoke.
“Ya want a beer?” asked Cyrus.
Dash nodded his head. When Cyrus returned with two bottles of beer, they both took a seat on his worn and tattered couch. The springs creaked as Dash sank into the cushions.
“So ya came to talk about your old man, huh?”
Dash popped the lid off the beer and took a swig. The bitter taste washed over his tongue and trickled down his throat before he said, “No, I came to talk about the club.”
“Mm,” said Cyrus. “Ain’t much I can tell you about it. It ain’t run by us old-timers anymore. The young bucks like you got the reins.”
“But you got some sway, I’m sure,” said Dash. Leaning back with his legs spread, he propped the bottle on his thigh.
“Of course I do. I may be old, but I’m still Cyrus the fuckin’ Virus.”
Dash grinned. “Do you think you could get me in?”
Cyrus took a big swig of his beer. Some of it dribbled down his beard but he didn’t seem to care. He set the bottle on the end table near the couch. “What’s this about? You show up out of nowhere. I ain’t seen you since you were a kid. Now you want in the club?”
Dash looked at the bottle on his leg and tapped his fingers against the glass. “I just got outta the slammer.”
“No shit? What for?”
“Boostin’ cars. I had a few years waiting for me but I got out on a technicality.”
Cyrus blew air through his teeth. “You got fuckin’ lucky.”
“Tell me about it,” Dash said. He lifted the bottle and took another drink.
“But what’s that have to do with the club?”
“Well the only reason I was in jail in the first place was ‘cause someone ratted me out. Someone I thought was a friend,” Dash said, frowning. “The whole thing made me realize, I don’t got shit. I’m running solo. Then I got to thinking about Pop and the club. He loved you guys. I know things went south in the end… but you guys were his family, you know? I want that. I want that kinda family. When I was a kid, all I ever wanted was to grow up and join the club. To be a fuckin’ Unforgiven King. But then after Pop died… Mom moved us away… and you know the rest.”
“Hell,” Cyrus said. He lit a cigarette between his bearded lips and closed the lighter with a snap. “Your old man was like a brother to me, Dash. And I hope you know, I took no part in what went down with him.”
A frown played on Dash’s lips. The topic of his old man and what happened to him was not an easy one, and he didn’t come to Cyrus to dig up the skeletons of the past. “I’m not holding it against you.”
“Times were different back then. Bloodier than they are now,” Cyrus said, huffing out a puff of smoke. “But I get it. There was nothing like it. Havin’ brothers you know you could count on. Always there, havin’ your back. Sometimes I sit and think about the good old days… Aw hell, if I could relive them… Nowadays, I can barely hold onto the handles of my bike.”
Dash glanced over at the older man and he felt a sense of camaraderie. Cyrus understood exactly what he was looking for, what he had been missing all these years.
“So you think you could put in a word for me?” asked Dash.
“Mmm. Yeah, I can get ya a meeting with Hunter. But that kid, he runs a tight ship. You want to become an Unforgiven King, you’ll have to work your way up. Don’t matter who your dad is these days. Trust is somethin’ earned.”
“Believe me, I know that more than anyone,” Dash said. “I’m willing to put in the work.”
“Heh, if you’re anything like your pops, I believe it.”
Dash grinned as he swallowed down another swig of his beer. With that out of the way, he spent the next hour reminiscing with Cyrus about his dad and the club. When he left the run-down house, Cyrus said he’d give him a call and let him know when he could meet up with Hunter.
As his motorcycle engine roared back to life, Dash knew this was the start to his new life. He was going to do whatever it took to become a part of the club. And once he was an Unforgiven King, he was going to make right what happened to his pop all those years ago.
