Command (Storm MC 6)

After the call, I was even more determined to find Julio and right all the wrongs we had at the moment. And regardless of all the shit Storm had been through over the last couple of years, I would build it back up to be the strong club it had always been.

“You ready to go?” Griff asked a few minutes later when I found him in the office.

I nodded. “Let’s do this, brother.”

The clubhouse was eerily quiet as we walked out of the office. It was unusual for there to be no one around, but between sending members out to search for Julio and others out to keep an eye on our families, there wasn’t anyone left to stay at the clubhouse.

As Griff pulled on the front door to exit, in stumbled Julio Rivera.

I knew it was him because I’d looked at enough photos of the man, that I’d be able to identify him even if I was drunk.

Griff and I both pulled our guns out and aimed them at him, but he didn’t even try to fight us. He simply held his hands up in surrender.

What the hell?

I pressed my gun against his forehead. “You picked a good place to come, motherfucker. We’ve got the fuckin’ welcome mat out for you today.”

“I’ve got information for you, Mr Cole, and I would suggest you don’t kill me because you are going to want this information.”

“I’m not sure what information you could have that I would want. Really, at this point, all I want is for you to stop breathing.” I grabbed his hand and yanked him past me so I could walk behind him. Once I had my gun pressed to his back, I ordered, “Walk!”

We led him out to one of the back rooms of the clubhouse and once Griff had him tied to a chair, I punched him a few times in an effort to get out the anger burning through me. He’d fucked us over too many times, and I had to restrain myself from punching him until he was unconscious.

His head lolled to the side and blood dripped down from his face onto the floor. He spat out the blood pooling in his mouth and looked back up at me. “I’m done,” he forced out on a heave.

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” Griff demanded.

“Bourne’s threatened to kill my sister if I don’t give him my territory. I’m walking away from everything.”

“Jesus Christ, you two are a fuckin’ class act. I don’t believe you, asshole. I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth,” I yelled.

Griff’s shoulders were wound tight with tension, and he’d been holding back, but he reached the end of his control. He punched Julio, over and over, until Julio’s face was unrecognisable.

“Feel good?” I asked.

His head jerked around and his eyes found mine.

Wild.

Feral.

Griff had so much darkness in him that he concealed from the world under a carefully constructed mask, but in that moment, I saw it. Loud and clear.

He took a deep breath. “Yeah,” he grunted.

Julio mumbled something, but his lips were so swollen he could hardly get the words out. Griff grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. “What did you say?” he barked.

Julio attempted to open his lips, but struggled. His breathing was laboured and it was clear he was in a great deal of pain.

Good.

He mumbled again, and again we couldn’t make out what he said.

I clenched my hands, wanting desperately to take that last breath from him, while also wanting to drag his pain and suffering out.

Griff yanked his head again. Harder. “Speak so we can understand you, asshole!”

Julio’s face contorted in agony when Griff punched him again.