Cage opened his mouth to correct Shade about Jemma being Dyna’s mother.
The man knew Jemma wasn’t his baby’s mother. Everyone knew who Jemma was to Dyna. So, why did he say that?
Then it hit him that Shade was right. He was so fucking right.
Jemma was as close to a mother Dyna could get.
“They all gotta go. Every last fuckin’ one of them,” Ozzy stated.
Dodge spoke up. “What about the kids? The babies? What happens to them if we wipe out all the adults? They didn’t ask to be born on Hillbilly Hill, born to these backwoods back-assed rednecks. We might not like it, but innocents live up there. We’re no better than them if we take out the innocent, as well as the guilty.”
“Those kids will grow up to be just as depraved as their fuckin’ father-uncles and mother-aunts,” Sig said and spat on the floor.
“We don’t know that,” Dodge stated.
“They’ll know no different. They’re born up there and die up there. They never fuckin’ leave. They’ll never know there’s a broad world out there. Somethin’ other than what you call Hillbilly Hill. They’ll only live a narrowly focused life,” Cage shouted.
“But who the fuck are we to decide?” Dodge asked softly.
“The Fury,” Judge bellowed. “That’s who the fuck we are. They fuck us, we’re fuckin’ them back even harder.”
A roar rose from all of them, giving Cage a little bit of hope. But still...
Time was ticking.
Every hour, minute, second that passed was another hour, minute, second that clan had Dyna and was doing who knew what to her. That had his fucking blood boiling to the point it was about to explode like a grenade in his gut.
“Listen up,” Judge shouted. “Didn’t share this shit ‘cause it was on a need-to-know basis. Shade’s been doin’ some recon on that mountain. He approached me, I approved it, as did our prez. He’s been watchin’, makin’ a map of their compound, learnin’ their fuckin’ inbred ways.”
“Also makin’ sure they didn’t kidnap any more women for breedin’ purposes,” Trip added.
The floor went back to Judge. “He’s been watchin’ who stepped into Vernon Shirley’s shoes. Also, who’s now second in command. Who’s comin’ and goin’. Their numbers. Inventoryin’ their buildings. Their stockpiles of weapons. Where their moonshine stills are hidden. Where they’re makin’ meth. All of it.”
Fuck.
Shade had gone up on that mountain by himself, putting himself at risk. For the club. For the brotherhood. He had no woman or children to protect but he was doing it for all of them. Just like it should be. Like the old Fury motto:
For one! For all!
For our brothers, we live and die!
A motto the Originals shouted but, in the end, never followed. If they had, they wouldn’t have turned on each other.
The man named Shade, the brother with the long, curly brown hair, stepped up next to Judge. He didn’t like the spotlight, but preferred to remain in the background. Unseen, unheard. A quiet cornerstone of the Fury.
He’d shown his loyalty the last time they went up the mountain. Enough so, he was patched in early.
After that night everyone saw him with new eyes. Judge originally distrusted him, but apparently that changed if he sent Shade up to spy on their enemy.
The group settled down and became really quiet to hear the man speak.
His voice was low but confident. His words were well-chosen before he spoke them. Like he had to pick each word carefully before saying it. Cage knew stutterers sometimes did that, but he’d never heard Shade stutter even slightly. “Got twenty-six women up there. Eighteen men. About forty kids under eighteen.”
“Forty,” someone repeated near Cage and whistled softly.
“Why more women than men?” Whip asked.
Judge answered. “We took out some of their men the last time.”
“Vernon Shirley also had three sister-wives,” Shade reminded them. “The male that took his spot—can’t figure out how he’s related—took those three wives. The youngest one,” he found Sig out in the crowd and spoke directly to the VP, “the one you forced to watch what you did with Vernon... She’s now knocked up by her new man. They live in the main house. Shit continued without a hitch, like Vernon Shirley never existed.”
“After Sig chopped off the head of the snake, the fuckin’ thing grew back,” Cage grumbled.
“Figured it would,” Sig muttered next to him. “They weren’t goin’ away quietly. They’re too fuckin’ stupid to do that.”
“Now that fuckin’ snake’s wrapped around my baby girl’s throat. Time to chop that motherfucker up and burn the pieces.”
“Need to break up into teams,” Judge announced. “Leavin’ Ry, Tater and Possum here with the women and Daisy. Got them tricked out with what they’d need to handle a threat. Only one not in that house right now is Reese.” He shot his cousin a look that spoke volumes.
Deacon shrugged. “Just got a text. She’ll be here in twenty. But she’s fuckin’ pissed to be pulled away. She might take any threat out with her bare hands.”