Chapter Twenty Eight
The night my brother Thrasher - legal name Kent, was shot down, I never thought I'd recover.
Falling to my knees at my brother's side, I knew without a doubt he was gone. It was the first time I cried in my adult life. Gone too fuckin soon.
We didn't know at the time that the Undertakers was a pseudonym. They were just a smaller chapter of the Saints, weaseling their way around for intel. This night was our first run-in with the Saints also the night the war against them began.
A year later, they had made it clear the raid hadn't gone forgotten when they had taken my dear wife Libby’s life. The only woman I had ever loved. After my wife's body was squared away with the coroner, I tore myself away from her and headed back to the clubhouse needing reinforcements.
Loading all the clips I could fit on my body, I tossed the strap of the assault rifle over my shoulder.
I was in a blind fit of rage, and nothing could have stopped me. Still not quite feeling any better but had no one left to kill, I headed home, tearing up grass behind me as I sped off.
The look in my dear daughter's eyes when I told her that her mother had died tonight shredded through my already broken heart. No girl should have to grow up without a mom, hell. No one should. It ruined my boys just as severely.
Our latest prospect had just been sworn in as a member, he had earned the nickname ‘Ghost’. I had heard the stories about this guy; he was like fucking Houdini. He took some fuckwad out in broad daylight after the guy had tried forcing himself on some homeless chick, not a single eye-witness. In broad daylight. I needed a guy like that.
He could be a pompous asshole, no doubt. But with good reason. It's not often you run across a guy that young with that much knowledge. Fuck. If I had known he would steal my baby girl away someday, I never would have thought twice about bringing him in.
"Well, I think after we make this run, that should cover the overhead for the month. Then we've got some cushion for the shelters." Chap says. He doubles as our treasurer and Chaplain. We go to him for his wise level headed advice before exhausting other options.
"Works for me." I pound my gavel, and the room quickly clears out. "Sharp, find my boys for me, and why don't you drag Ghost along," I call over before he shut the door.
"On it, boss."
I had caught wind of some plans the Saints were making. They'd never fucking quit. They want Cassie back. I wasn't about to let that happen after I spent all this time pleading with her to come back after Ghost sent her running.
There was nothing like having my daughter back home, aside maybe from watching her shoot Ghost. I watched for years as the two would come together to be torn apart. I knew it broke my little girl's heart, and I wanted to kill him for that. But I knew that would make her life so much worse. There's nothing in the world quite like losing your soulmate. As much as I hated to admit it, they were soulmates through and through.
I had called the other Chapters in after Cassie's first attempted kidnapping turned car wreck. We tore through safe house after safe house, only to be lead straight into a distraction while they took Cassie from us.
It was a tough call to send the other Chapters home after the Saints took Cassie, but they had been here more than long enough. They had their families and duties to get back to. Probably a good thing too, they would have wasted months here.
I was angry at myself that it wasn't one of us to find Cassie. Cops had found her first. I had been disappearing throughout the months, tracking down every last lead until finally hitting the jackpot.
My boys and I tore through the house, leaving no door unopened, nobody without a bullet. I finally came up on old Fresno sneaking out a door leading to a garage. After all of these years, I finally have him. Of course, I’m going to make it as slow and painful as possible.
"Ahh. What do we have here?" I slant my head to one side narrowing my eyes at the pathetic excuse of a leader. "Running away, are we? Hmm. Lucky for me, you won't be making it far."
Fresno is speechless. Without his goons, he’s nothing.
I grab him by the throat, slamming him against the SUV, "So, shall we make this interesting?" I pull the handle from my hip, exposing the shining blade, "Freshly sharpened." I let out a hellish laugh.
"Okay, okay! You can have her! Just let me fucking go!" Fresno finally found the courage to speak.
"Tsk. Tsk. Fresno, it's too late for negotiations. Twenty years too late." My late brother and wife's faces flicker in my mind, "Hell, only a few months ago, you had your goons torturing my daughter." I slide the blade down.
"Yeah, she fucking deserved it too! You don't leave the Saints alive." A wicked smile crept across his mouth.
"Well, now that's odd. I just watched her get engaged." I watch his face shift from cocky to shocked. "Oh, you mean you didn't check if the job was finished? I guess I'll be the one to tell you then, you. fucking. failed."
"Bullshit! I watched the light in her eyes die with her."
"Unfortunately for you, of course, but lucky for me, she's doing just fine. Now, what do you say we do next, hmm?" He attempts to break free from beneath my hand, but I’m still firmly holding his throat, it’s no use.
"Go ahead now. You can pick this time." I tighten my grip on his throat. "Not one for making decisions, huh? That's okay. I'll choose for you!"
I slide the length of my blade into his abdomen, over and over. Mesmerized for a moment by the blood pooling out of his mouth, but still not satisfied. As he slides down the side of the SUV from blood loss, I reach for the sledgehammer leaning against the wall.
"This might do. What do you think?" I bend down, meeting his eyes, watching them fight to stay open.
I pull my arm back and swing, making a disgustingly satisfying crunch as his knee cap shatters beneath the force of the hammer. His groaning cries were like music to my ears.
I repeat the injury on his other leg, "This is for everyone I've fucking lost because of you and everyone I've almost lost!” I stand up, swinging full force into his skull, as I push my blade back into its sheath and spit on his lifeless sad excuse of a body, I feel something rip through my chest.
This is it, the darkness finally consumes me.
"The funeral is Friday at eleven… Uh-huh… Yep, see you then." Ghost taps his screen ending the call and turns to me, "that was the last Chapter President. They'll be here." I know he’s talking to me, but everything feels distant and distorted.