Tank met my eyes. He knew me better than anyone here. Only Adelita knew me more. He had to see that even after everything, pathetically, I was still worried for my kid brother. Tank lost some of his anger. “I didn’t see him in the fight at all. Then again, I didn’t see much apart from my knives stabbing necks and my bullets shredding through hearts.” I relaxed. But that meant shit. That battle was a mindfuck of blood and flesh. “Took out some of our old brothers,” Tank said.
“And how did it feel?”
Tank smiled. “Good, brother. Real fucking good.”
I tipped my head back and ran my hands down my face. It was a shitshow. All of it. I had no idea if Beau had survived. If Landry had either. But I knew Diego had. Of course that slippery fucker had. I tried to think what his next move would be. But my head was filled with Slash’s face as he hit the ground and Adelita’s cries in bed as she blamed herself.
“Fucking Lil Ash,” Tank said, voice shocked. I looked around the bar. There was no sign of Flame, Ash, Zane, or Vike.
“He snapped,” I said, and Tank blew out a slow breath in agreement.
“That kid . . . in that moment, he was Flame.”
I thought back to Ash grabbing guns and starting the battle. The seventeen-year-old kid raining down bullets on the cartel and Klan like he killed for fun. Tank’s hand came down on my shoulder. “Brace yourself, Tann. I got a feeling this war is just beginning.” Tank got to his feet. “I’m gonna find Beauty.” He paused, then looked me in the eye. “You sure you’re okay? That was heavy shit today. Especially for you.”
“Yeah.”
Tank’s eyes narrowed on me like he could see through my bullshit. But he slapped my back and left the bar. I walked outside. I needed some fucking fresh air. The tents from the visiting chapters took up most of the grounds.
Shutting my eyes, I pulled out a smoke and leaned against the wall as I let the nicotine work its magic. When I was done, I flicked the butt to the ground and went back inside. Shucking off my clothes, I climbed in bed beside Adelita and wrapped my arm around her waist. I was keeping my bitch close.
Adelita had always been full of light. A damn firecracker from the minute I met her. But when Slash fell tonight, I saw that fire in her die out.
I kissed her damp hair and moved my arm around her chest. And I fucking held on all night while she slept. I replayed today in my head like a damn record stuck on repeat . . . Beau, Landry, Diego, Slash . . . everything.
It was all going to shit.
Chapter Twelve
Adelita
I thought it fitting that the rain fell hard on our heads. My body was numb as I stared at the coffin. It was closed, the wound too severe on the prospect’s head to have an open casket.
My skin shivered, but it had nothing to do with the rain. I trembled as the casket was lowered into the ground by Hangmen. My eyes fixed on Slash’s cousin. Smiler’s face was racked with pain so severe that I felt it crack my heart. I looked around the people here. At the men who had lost a brother. A man cut down in his prime. I looked at the women, and the sadness that illuminated their faces.
And I looked to the other two prospects. The remaining two boys who Diego had taken. The younger of the two appeared haunted as his friend was laid to rest—coins on his eyes as per Hangmen tradition. But it was Asher that I focused on. His face wasn’t sad like everyone else’s. It was furious, his dark eyes savage in their glare. His body was so tightly tensed he looked like he was going to snap at any moment. His black hair stuck to his face as the rain sluiced down and drenched him. But his eyes never moved from the coffin, like if he stared hard enough, he could resurrect his friend.
My stomach fell. Because he never would. He would never have his best friend back. And he would probably forever blame himself for Slash pushing him out of the way. When it was my fault. It was all my fault. Diego killed that young man because of me.
All this pain . . . all this violence and death was my fault.
Tanner’s hand sought out mine, giving it a brief squeeze before he let go. I couldn’t look at him as the men lowering Slash into the ground stepped back from the grave. Every one of the Hangmen took out their guns.
As Smiler started shoveling the dirt over the coffin, Styx fired a single shot into the air, the sound causing the birds to scatter from the surrounding trees. Like a rehearsed dance, the rest of the Hangmen fired numerous shots into the air. But Asher still didn’t move. His midnight eyes stayed fixed on the quickly covered coffin, his jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists at his side. I tore my eyes away, unable to witness such pain and rage, only to find Saffie flickering covert, worried glances toward Asher. She stood under her mother’s umbrella, holding onto Phebe as always. It was like Saffie couldn’t stand without her mother’s help. But her eyes kept drifting to Asher. He never once noticed her looking. And I thought it was a shame. Asher clearly needed someone to comfort him right now. And Saffie looked like she might be willing to offer it.
When the final shot rang out, silence fell around the forest. We all watched as the last of the dirt was thrown over the coffin, and Smiler brought over a temporary cross to stand at the head of the grave. Tanner had told me that a Hangmen headstone was being made.
Smiler took a sledgehammer and knocked the cross into the ground. And I swore, with each hit of the hammer on the simple wooden cross, I saw a part of his soul disappear. The rain had lessened enough for me to realize that the drops falling down Smiler’s cheeks were not rain. But tears for the cousin he would never see again, the family member he had lost. I could no longer fight the lump in my throat at the sight of such a strong man breaking. Only to become worse when the doctor I knew as Rider came forward and put his hand on Smiler’s arm. Smiler’s hands shook as he hit the cross for the final time. Then like a dam cracking, he turned his head into Rider’s chest and agonized cries soared from his shattered heart.
It was too much. The guilt, the pain and the knowledge that it was all because of me that Slash was dead. That Smiler had lost his cousin. Tanner must have sensed my sadness, as he wrapped me in his arms. I buried my face in his cut and let the familiar scent of Tanner and leather warm me. But it was no use. I was cold. And I wasn’t sure if I could ever feel warmth again.
“Come on,” Tanner urged. I saw guilt written on his features too. Was this all our fault? Was this man dead because we had needed to be together so much? I wanted to ask Tanner, but I was too scared. I didn’t want to know the answer.
Tanner put his arm around my shoulders and took us toward Smiler. Each o
f the Hangmen were walking to him and putting their hand on his back in silent support. Rider had stayed beside him the entire time. We stayed back and waited until it was our turn. My lip trembled as we approached him, and as I met his haunted eyes, I couldn’t speak. Tanner laid his hand on his back.
“I am sorry,” I mouthed, and felt that I had never spoken so little for such great meaning in my entire life. Smiler didn’t answer. I wasn’t even sure if he was taking anything in right now. He looked numb, trapped in a hell from which he couldn’t escape.
Tanner guided me through the forest and back toward the clubhouse. I stared at Hades on Viking’s cut up ahead. I stared at the dark god, noose in one hand and a gun in the other. I wondered if he had taken Slash into his arms—one of his own coming home.
The sky was dark and turbulent, reflecting the somber mood of the entire club. We made our way into the bar, and brothers started drinking. I quickly realized that tonight wasn’t for quiet contemplation, but for drinking and temporarily forgetting the dangerous world these men—and women—lived in. It was to drink to a fallen brother, before the act of revenge would inevitably follow.
We sat at a table. I felt Tanner’s eyes on me. I didn’t look up. My chest was swirling with too many emotions, and I knew he would see straight through me. Tanner always had. And right now, I needed to be alone with my thoughts. He didn’t let me be alone though. Tanner lifted my chin with his hand. As soon as I met his eyes, those blue eyes I adored so much, he leaned down and kissed my lips.
I looked around the bar, at all the men and women. Smiler and Ash hadn’t made an appearance, nor had Rider. Zane was with AK and Phebe. At the funeral, the boy had never looked up from the floor. I remembered him shooting men two and three times his age, his bullets hitting hearts and heads and necks. And I wondered if he could sleep at night, or if the faces came to haunt him. AK had put his arm around his Zane’s shoulder at the beginning of the service and kept him close. That boy clung to him like a magnet.