Rudge was next to dive in. Only this fucker had fists that could kill with one punch. In a matter of minutes, Rudge had knocked two of the chapter out cold, smiling as they slammed to the floor. The commotion brought more brothers from the camp outside rushing in.
A loud whistle cut through the room, then Ky, Bull, and Tank started pulling the brothers apart. AK yanked Flame off Wrox, whose face was nothing but swelling and blood. But Wrox rolled to his feet and spat at Flame. Flame’s eyes were savage, promising Wrox a slow and painful death.
“What the fuck do you think y’all are doing?” Ky asked, standing between our chapter and theirs.
Wrox’s men held him back. “He killed him.” As the words fell from Wrox’s mouth, the room grew in tension. “That psycho fucking killed Hick.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Ky demanded.
Wrox held up his hands. I noticed his cut and shirt. They were coated in blood . . . and it wasn’t his, or Flame’s.
Styx walked next to Ky. The prez eyeballed the fuck out of every brother in the room. Nobody moved as Styx silently promised that anyone who did would be under his knife. Styx raised his hands. “This true?” he asked Flame. As usual Ky spoke for the prez.
“I never killed that cunt,” Flame snarled, beginning to pace the floor. “I wanted to. I wanted to rip open his fucking heart and hold it in my hands.”
“He fucking slit his throat,” Wrox said coldly, slowly. “Hick was tied to the chair, and Flame slit his throat. Hick couldn’t even fight back.”
“I said I never touched him!” Flame growled, and charged at Wrox again. AK reached for him, dragging him back, and stopped touching him before Flame went nuclear.
“Well, if he didn’t kill him, who the fuck did?” Wrox asked.
“Me.” A voice sounded from the back of the room. Lil Ash stepped forward. The kid stopped right beside his brother. Flame was glaring at Wrox and the other chapter. Scanning them to see if any of them dare move against his kid brother.
“You?” Wrox said, disbelieving.
Ash smiled. But it wasn’t a good fucking smile. Not the kind we normally got from the kid. The smile that kid wore was sadistic and fucked up. “Me.” Ash stepped forward again and held up his knife . . . a knife that was coated in blood. “I went to that shed, took my knife, went to Hick, and slit his throat. Slowly. Staring right into his fucking eyes as he drained of blood.”
“You little shit—” Wrox ran at Ash, but Ky held him back by his cut.
“He deserved it,” Ash said, his voice calm. Not showing an ounce of remorse. “That motherfucker sent us prospects out in the middle of a war, against Styx’s orders. He sent us right into the path of the cartel. It was easy for them to catch us. And he fucking killed Slash! That cunt was on borrowed time the second he gave that order.”
“Shut the fuck up, Ash,” AK snapped and pulled the kid beside him. Ash shrugged AK off, his black eyes glaring at Wrox.
“What the fuck kinda club you running here?” Wrox spoke to Styx. “You ordered Hick to be left in that shed until you would deal with him. That’s club rules. Yet one of your prospects goes against you, and the club, and slits his throat. A fucking kid undermining the mother chapter’s prez? That how it is here now?” Styx’s harsh stare shut Wrox the fuck up.
“How’d you even get in?” Ky asked Ash. “You don’t have the key.”
“I let him in.” My eyes cut to Smiler, who was still sitting at the table. Brother hadn’t even bothered to get up when the shitshow started. Just sat there, watching. Smiler lifted his eyes, glass of whiskey in his hand. “I took Ash down to the shed when he asked, let him in . . . then I watched him kill Hick. I watched, with a fucking smile on my face, as he sliced that prick’s throat open, and we stayed until he was completely drained of blood and gone to the boatman.” He took a sip of his whiskey. “With no coins on his eyes.”
Wrox and his chapter threw the first fist. The room became a storm of hands and knives and blood. I stepped back and ran my hands over my fucking head. Adelita . . . fucking Adelita! Were they even fucking listening to me about my bitch? They needed to cut this shit over a brother that had deserved to die and help me get her back. I didn’t have time for this. I didn’t fucking have time!
Tank looked back at me, then held my arms. “I swear, Tann. We’ll get her back. We’ll get a plan together and go.” Bull shouted for Tank as he was taken on by two men. Tank whipped his head back, then ran to help his friend. Styx and Ky were fighting too. Ash and Flame . . . every fucker was fighting, not fucking listening to me.
I needed to get a plan. I had no fucking time to fight. I needed to get to Adelita. Making my way to the door, I hit any asshole who came at me. By the time I’d made it out the door, my knuckles were red, raw and ripped. I’d left a trail of broken noses and fractured jaws. They’d chosen the wrong fucking day to mess with me. But I didn’t care. I just headed for my room. My hands pushed through my hair as I tried to figure out what to do. I didn’t know what the fuck to do! Rushing to my monitors, I tried to bring up the cameras in the hacienda. My heart fucking stopped when I saw the connection was gone. The cameras had been cut. There was nothing but black screens . . .
What did that mean?
What the fuck did that mean?!
I tried to think. To fucking get the vision of Adelita dead and cold out of my head. I jumped to my feet and paced. I needed to get across the border and into Quintana territory. I needed to get to her before they killed her . . . if it wasn’t too late. I needed to get there even if it was.
Diego was going to die.
An email came through. I looked at the screen to see it was Wade.
I clicked on the mail.
We’re all en route to Mexico. Will be there soon. Diego has killed Quintana and has taken the house and his men.
My eyes fucking widened. Shit. SHIT! That meant Adelita was now under that cunt’s control.
Adelita was dead, I knew it. . . A pain so great stabbed in my stomach that I felt like I couldn’t breathe. My chest was too tight, my fucking heart struggling to function.
Adelita would be dead. Numbness spread through my body like poison, slowing my heart. Filling me with nothing but the need for revenge.
Diego has called us all down to plan the final attack on the Hangmen. Beau is here. Your father and uncle arrive in a couple of days due to some business in Texas. It’s everyone in one place. Diego wants blood . . . even that of the kids. He’s planning on wiping them all out—no Hangmen left at all. This is personal.
But most of all, he wants you. And he’s not the only one. The Klan. The fact you stood against us with the Hangmen at the exchange . . . all the brothers want you punished. They want you dead.
I stared at the fucking screen. At the fact that the cartel and Klan were all joining together to kill me. They both wanted me. And I thought of Adelita. Thought of living in a world where she didn’t exist. I’d left the Klan for her. I’d changed my life for her.
Without her, what was the point?
I hit reply.
My fingers hovered over the keys. They were fucking shaking, and my chest was so tight I found it too hard to breathe.
Did Diego kill Quintana’s daughter too?
I stared at the screen, my throat so tight I was sure it was closing. When the email came through, I couldn’t open it. Like a fucking pussy, I waited and waited, until I forced myself to press on the message and just fucking be delivered the truth.
He killed them all.
I read and reread the sentence. Slowly the words began to travel through my body, one by one shutting everything down inside. My hands, which had been shaking, folded into fists. My muscles tensed until there wasn’t a part of me that wasn’t aching. And then the stab fucking hit. The agonizing slice through my fucking heart that brought me to my knees. My lungs turned to iron, refusing to work. I gasped, fucking trying to take in air, fucking something. But it was useless. My palms slammed to the floor and a fu
cking roar ripped from my throat. It was all my fault . . . Adelita was dead because of me. Because she came back to me. Because they believed she was never meant to be mine. Fucking tears fell from my eyes when I pictured her dead, on the floor, those fucking brown eyes I loved so much frozen open in death.
I fucking drowned in agony, until anger and rage replaced the hole in my heart. Until every inch of me filled with the need for revenge. To see Diego dead. To see my father and uncle bloodied under my knife.
And Beau. Even Beau would die. I would fucking kill them all . . . and pray that they would fucking kill me too. I was done.
Climbing off the floor, I emailed back.
I’m giving myself up. I’m coming to Mexico. The Klan—Beau, my father and uncle—and Diego can have me. They can kill me.
I hit send.
Why the fuck would you do that? It’s suicide.