CHAPTER 6
Sixteen sets of eyes watch me as I slowly make my way around the massive round table. Pain tears through me. I’m not ready for this. After Tobias’ funeral earlier in the day, and the massive wake that went on well into the night, I should have told them to reschedule this shit for tomorrow morning, but instead, I agreed.
I need to be in bed. I need to rest my body and make sure that I’m not overdoing it. Fuck that, I know damn well that I’m overdoing it right now, but I wasn’t about to let this meeting go on without me. I can only imagine what kind of bullshit they would agree on.
It was only a week ago that I was shot. My body isn’t ready for all of this, and as much as I hate to admit it, the boys were right. I need a few more weeks to properly heal, and only then will I be able to rise back up and be the motherfucking bitch who all these bastards fear.
Both King and Carver stood at the door, one on either side of me, insisting that they help me to my seat, but I refused to look weak in front of this crowd. They sure as fuck didn’t like it, but I sent their asses in before me. Now they’re watching me walk through the big room with scowls torn across their faces. I can only imagine what they’re thinking and I’d bet anything that the word ‘stubborn’ is flashing through both of their heads.
I only get halfway around the massive table before my body begins to scream. My abdomen is throbbing and my willpower is quickly dwindling, but I don’t dare let it show. My face remains a complete mask in my need to always be strong. But fuck, I’d give anything for a painkiller right now.
My gaze flicks across the table to where Carver sits. He’s always been able to see right through me. He knows what I’m thinking, what I’m feeling, and judging by the way his fingers are gripped to the edge of the table with white knuckles, I’d dare say that he’s more than aware of the bullshit I’m suffering through.
Seeing his resolve quickly fading, I discreetly shake my head, knowing damn well that this bastard is about to fly out of his seat, pick me up caveman-style, and deliver me to the front of the room, but I won’t stand for it. I’ll break down afterward, but until then, I’m going to stand before these assholes with my head held high. Nothing will stop me, not even a shot through the gut. Hell, if Jacob and Preston’s attacks couldn’t bring me down, and my own mother’s bullshit wasn’t going to stop me, then this meeting is nothing but a walk in the park.
I make my way to my seat, and as I slowly lower myself into it, I bite the inside of my cheek, keeping myself from screaming out in agony. I taste the blood inside my mouth, and instead of allowing it to cripple me, I use it to motivate me. “Alright,” I say, leaning back in my chair and making a show of how well I’ve been doing since they all watched me get taken away by the ambulance. “What was so important that it couldn’t wait until morning?”
I glance around the room, skimming straight past King and Carver, still not being used to seeing them sitting at this table, but when nobody responds, I turn to Earnest Brooks who sits directly to my right. “Can you give me a little something to work with here?” I ask him, knowing that had Tobias still been here, he would have been the first to speak up and get this shit underway.
Earnest nods while letting out a deep sigh, not liking being the one that I call on. “Michael Harding,” he says, nodding across the table to the man in question. “He’s asked us all here tonight to discuss a few things and work out how Tobias’ death is going to impact us as an organization.”
I try not to groan too loudly as I glance across the table at Harding. “So, what Earnest is telling me is that we’re all here in the dead of night to discuss something that could have been discussed in the morning?”
Michael shakes his head, looking at me in disgust. “Always so quick to dismiss the importance of what we do here.”
In a flash, Carver pushes back out of his seat, his momentum sending it flying behind him until it’s crushing into the wall of the council chamber. His hand winds around Harding’s throat. “Instead of insulting our leader, why don’t you get the fuck on with what you have to say?”
“Watch it, boy,” Harding growls, not fazed by the tightening hand around his throat. “If I didn’t have such respect for your father, I would have put you down years ago.”