This wasn't a spur of the moment confrontation.
Oh, no.
This was a coup.
This was a selfish, self-serving bastard taking what he thought should have rightfully been his from the beginning.
It was why he'd always been such a kiss-ass to my father. Because he wanted what he knew I was working my ass off for. Instead of doing the same, making his bones the old-fashioned way, he hitched a ride to my club with the sole intention of kicking me out of it.
I knew it like I knew the sun was going to rise in the morning, no matter how much it felt like the world was ending for me.
He'd never been a loyal club member. He'd just been biding his time. He'd been watching me. He'd been waiting for me to fuck up.
It must have killed him that it took this long. He probably figured I would have screwed up right out of the gate. Or I would have struggled to keep revenue coming in. Because if the men weren't happy, he could have much more easily convinced them that I wasn't looking out for their best interest.
He never saw me as someone who dragged herself through hell to get a chapter. He never cared about the sacrifices I'd made, about my empty stomach while he gorged himself, about the late nights I'd spent awake, worrying myself to ulcers about keeping the clients we'd taken from the Henchmen.
All he saw was what he could take from me at my first sign of weakness.
He'd just bided his time.
And then pounced when it arrived.
The look of triumph on his face when my gaze slid back to him made bile rise up in my throat.
I'd had a rotten apple inside my club from the beginning.
Now he was spoiling the bunch.
He was taking everything from me.
With all but five of my men standing against me, there was nothing I could do.
I would have to go.
And I very much doubted Chewy or the men I'd looked at as brothers would be gracious enough even to let me pack a bag. I'd be out with absolutely nothing but the clothes on my back and my bike. And the target on my head for the assholes who were still out to take the gun trade from the MCs in Navesink Bank.
"Your father would be so proud," Chewy said, the final nail in my coffin.
That was my sore spot. And while no one said it, everyone knew it. My father's approval meant more to me than I cared to admit. And this? This would take it away from me permanently.
"Don't," I snapped, teeth gritted because I felt a sting at the back of my eyes that felt a hell of a lot like the beginning of tears.
"He always knew you would shame the club name. Look at you now, proving him right."
I had no reason not to believe him, not to think my father had his ear for years behind my back. It was no secret that my father was my toughest critic, that he'd always doubted me, always told me I didn't have what it would take to run a club.
I could just hear my father's voice telling Chewy that I would bring shame to the club, that I would disgrace not only my chapter, but the entire Vulture organization as a whole.
The insecurity that flooded my system right then was an old, familiar foe, one I'd lived with my entire life. It immediately dragged me under the surface, had me choking for air, flailing for land.
But there was nothing to hold onto this time.
In the past, I could convince myself that all the work would pay off eventually. I would get my club. I would prove everyone—most especially my father—wrong.
There was none of that comfort this time, though.
Because I'd gotten my club.
And now it was gone.
There was nothing to cling to, nothing to aspire to.
It was all over.
Everything I'd worked for and sacrificed for.
It was all over.
There was nothing to grab hold of to keep me from being swept up in the tide of my insecurity.
"You know what? Fuck you, Chewy. You lazy-ass, entitled, back-stabbing piece of shit," I snapped, watching his eyes harden. "And the rest of you," I added, looking around, making sure I made eye-contact with each of them briefly. "A bunch of blindly following sheep. I hope your disloyalty gets you the kind of lives you deserve," I said, turning, and walking toward the door, not trusting myself to say anything else without breaking down in tears.
"That cut and that bike are club property too," Chewy called, wanting the last word, driving home one final humiliation.
"Take it," I said, shrugging out of my cut, dropping it in the garbage as I passed. Along with my keys. "I don't want anything to do with you traitorous fucks ever again," I added, not even bothering to look as I moved outside, letting the door close behind me.