The Darkest Of Light (The Kings of Retribution MC)

Four hours later, I arrive in Bozeman and park my bike a block away from campus. No way will it not draw attention, and I don’t want Alba to know I’m here. Logan knows the gist of what has happened between me and Alba. He gave me all the info he had on her. What classes she has, the dorm she’s staying in, and even where the library is that she’s been hanging out at. He also informed me that’s as far as his involvement goes, he’s not risking his woman handing him his ass for helping me. Logan said Alba refuses to tell her sister what happened, but Bella knows it’s something to do with me.

It’s coming up on lunch time, so my first stop will be the library. Knowing Alba, I’m almost certain it’s where I’ll find her. My problem is, I don’t exactly blend in well on a college campus. Like I give a fuck though. I’m rounding the corner of one of the campus buildings when I see her. She’s walking across the lawn with some short chick with glasses. Alba has her bag slung over her shoulder, and her long blond hair is pulled into a side braid hanging down the front of her shoulder. She’s also wearing a blue long, sleeveless dress. I can’t take my eyes off of her. She’s so fuckin’ gorgeous. My fingers twitch, wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch her. Seeing her smile and laugh with her friend tells me I made the right choice. This is where she needs to be. Living her life, making friends. I continue to watch her until she walks into the library and out of sight. With an ache in my chest, I turn around and head back to my bike.

When I make it back to the clubhouse, I see all my brothers sittin’ around having a beer. Deciding to join them, I take a seat at the bar next to Logan, and motion for Liz to bring me a drink. As I bring the bottle to my lips, our new prospect Daniel grabs my attention when I hear him talking to Blake about a fight he’s participating in.

"You fight?" I ask him.

"Sure do." He tells me, puffing his chest out.

The kid is a decent height. I’d say about six-foot-one, and he’s lean—maybe 180 lbs. What he lacks in muscle, I’m sure he makes up for it in speed.

"I fight at least once a week over in Missoula. The competition is decent, and the money is pretty good. The best part though is the pussy. Those bitches are lined up, man. Win or fuckin’ loose."

"When is your next fight?" I ask.

"Three days, there’s a fight every Saturday night. Why? You interested?"

"Maybe."

"Fuck man, you’d kill all those motherfuckers. And I bet you’d make some decent bank too."

I don’t give two shits about the money. But I don’t tell the kid that. What I need is fuckin’ blood. Just the thought of fightin’ again has me feeling the all too familiar rush I used to get. Making my demons want to come out and play.

"You think it’s smart to go down that road again, brother?" Logan asks bringing me out of my thoughts. He along with Jake are the only ones who know about my past. And how my last fight ended with me killing a

man. Not that I regret it. My problem is I don’t always know when to stop. Sometimes that switch gets flipped and I lose control.

"You’re headed down a dark road, Gabriel. You better know what the hell you’re doing. I know you got some shit goin’ on in your head that needs worked out, but I’m telling you now, this is not the answer.

"I know what the hell I’m doing," I bite out.

"Okay, brother. Can’t say I didn’t warn you," Logan tells me before standing up and walking off.

I turn my attention back to Daniel, "Can you get me in on the next fight?"

"Hell yeah, man, I got you."

"Hey, prospect, you know what they say about brown-nosers, don’t ya?" Quinn asks the kid. And we all know some smart-ass remark is about to follow. "You can only kiss so much ass before you choke on shit," he chuckles from the other end of the bar, causing everyone to laugh along with him.

It’s Saturday night, and my body is vibrating with adrenaline for tonight’s fight. Daniel informed me yesterday he got me matched with some guy named Sid. Supposedly, he’s one of the best and closest to me in weight and height. I’m not concerned though. I don’t give two fucks who the fucker is or how many wins he’s had. All I care about is his blood. Pounding the hell of another man is the greatest high. Am I a sick son of a bitch for feeling like I do? Probably. Do I care? Hell no. We all need an outlet, and fighting is mine. Anyone who signs up for one of these fights knows what the fuck they’re getting into. So, if they get their ass handed to them, then that’s on them. They get no sympathy from me.

Walking out of the clubhouse, I head to my bike and see Daniel already waiting on me. My steps falter a second when I see Logan also on his bike looking at me with a lifted brow while smokin’ a cigarette.

"I may not agree with what your crazy ass is doing man, but no way in hell am I not gonna have your back, brother. We don’t know anything about these people you’re about to tangle with," Logan declares.

Grunting in response, I mount my bike, pull out of the clubhouse and onto the road with the prospect tailing behind me and my brother at my side.

We arrive in Missoula and follow Daniel as he directs us down a couple winding back roads leading to the middle of nowhere. It’s pitch dark. Not a fuckin’ house or building in sight. We pull up to what looks like an old abandoned farm house. I see a few dozen parked vehicles. I glance over at Logan to see him also taking in our current surroundings. On closer inspection, the two-story building is indeed a farmhouse. The grey paint is peeling, several shutters are half hanging off the front of the house and the roof looks like it’s one heavy gust of wind from caving in. All in all, it’s the perfect place to conduct such business. Not a soul around to hear the chaos and roar of chants coming from inside. It’s also far enough out to stay off police radar.

Walking inside the house I’m assaulted with the stench of cigarettes and the musky smell of sweat. I see several walls have been torn down in the old house to make a large open floor space in what was once a living room, where two men are currently pounding the hell out of each other. Men and even women take up every available empty space cheering on their choice of competitor.

The atmosphere causes my heart rate to pick up and bring back that old familiar feeling I haven’t felt in a long time. This is the distraction I need. As if Logan knows exactly what I’m thinking he turns to me.

"You’re using this as a distraction to keep from going after what’s yours because you believe you are doing what’s best for her. Just don’t take too long coming to your fuckin’ senses."

I go to respond when a piercing whistle from across the room catches my attention. Turning my head, I see Daniel motioning me across the room to where he’s standing next to a short, pudgy man in a cheap suit.

"Cal, this is Gabriel. The guy I was telling you about a couple days ago," Daniel says, making introductions as I come to stand in front of them, with Logan flanking me. I give the fucker a chin lift and watch as he appraises me. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and takes in mine and Logan’s cut.