Antichrist

More than anything it made sense to him. Or, he made it make sense to him.

Smoke looks over at me from the other end of the table, patting his long beard. “I’ll take them down to do the run. We still gotta do business even with all of the other shit going on.”

Smoke is the only other one who I knew before I left. His old man and mine were pretty tight growing up, to the point where I’d call him Uncle. Smoke has never wanted any leader patch, though. He’s always been adamant to fly under the radar. It works for us because Smoke just so happens to be the muscle. The one who gets shit done when no one else is willing to do it. Old Don relied on him a lot before he died, and Smoke wears his death like fucking cologne.

I land the gavel on the wood plank. “Then it’s settled. Smoke will take a prospect, Fanta, and Vaughn. Goat, Lester, and the other prospect stay behind.” I find myself once again being thankful for a smaller chapter.

“I’ll take Tik.” He points to our little TikTok famous prospect. “That’ll leave you with Runt.” He grins at me, flashing his teeth.

I flip him off. Everyone knows Tik is a much better prospect than Runt, the fucking pussy.

Once everyone empties out, Smoke stays behind, and I watch as he slowly makes his way to the head of the table, a toothpick flicking between his lips. “I know there’s something going on that you’re not telling all of us about.” He crosses his arms over his chest, stretching his white tee to its fucking limit. The fucking tank.

“I can’t lie to you, brother, so don’t ask any questions that you may not be ready for the answers for.”

He’s silent for a second before kicking the chair out from under the table and lowering himself down. “Niko, I’ve known you all of your goddamn life, and this club? This club is mine.”

I snap, grinding my teeth in annoyance at his accusatory tone. “As it is mine.”

Smoke stretches his legs wide, running his palm down the side of his face. He’s aged over the years, either from the death of his woman or the shit he does for the club. Can’t figure out which yet. “Never said it wasn’t, but if you have somethin’ else going on that you’re not telling us, that means we aren’t your life.”

I reach for my packet of smokes on the table, biting one into my mouth and lighting the end. “Yeah, I do.”

“So the rumors are true then,” Smoke finally says after a few seconds of reading my face. “The Ghost is back.”

Flicking the ash off my smoke, I grunt, “Yeah, he is, and it’s a fuckin’ problem, brother.”

“How?” he asks, leaning farther over the table. “I know about Ghost because I’d hear my old man and yours talk about it all the time growing up.”

I suck in a deep inhale of cancer, blowing thick rings out after holding.

“But I thought he was a myth, you know. Someone clubs and other mobs made up to keep each other alerted.”

I shrug, watching Smoke closely. “Maybe he is. All I know is that I’m here to take the gavel, and we need to figure out how to handle this fucker popping off people. You know Jay of the New York Yakuza just got snapped. They are smart enough to take out that crazy motherfucker.”

Smoke actually pales. I almost laugh because the look on his face is so foreign. “What? How? He has the biggest fucking crew ever.”

I shrug again. “Don’t know. It’s why I’m here.”

“And you’re here, and been sent from Ghost?”

I shake my head. “No. I’m here because the gavel is mine and has been handed to me. Finding out who is whacking off everyone is a job that has been”—I light another cigarette to stop the fidgeting—“assigned to me from Ghost.”

“How’d he reach out?” Smoke asks, narrowing his eyes. I should have known. I could get shit past Lester just fine, but Smoke? Nah. Smoke is smart and can sniff out lies quicker than he can a bitch in heat. I told the club I was working for Ghost, but Smoke is a fucking bloodhound.

I bring my eyes to his, narrowing around the smoke that’s curling around my nose. “Are you questioning me?”

“Fucking oath I am!” Smoke exclaims, pushing up from his chair and glaring at me from behind bushy brows. “You come back, yes, for the gavel, but also, Niko, it wasn’t a requirement. You coulda said no.”

He isn’t lying. And I wanted to say no. In fact, I almost threw my whole patch in altogether, but then… well.

Smoke starts walking up and down the side of the table.

My knees spread. “Sit the fuck down and I’ll tell you everything. You’re giving me a headache.”