Her eyes burned a hole into my soul and heart.
“Fuck,” I growled. “I can’t fucking lose you.”
After our fuck, she lay in my arms, her breathing low. I’d soon have to get up to go to the meeting.
“I’m scared to die, scared they’ll hurt me worse, Maddox,” she whispered so softly, at first, I wasn’t sure I heard her right. She had every reason to be scared.
“I’m here,” I murmured, kissing her neck. Her bandaged ear taunted me with the truth.
Her breathing evened out and I got up, feeling a nervous energy take hold of my body. As I made my way downstairs, I crossed Gunnar. He touched my shoulder. “You’re spending a lot of time with her. Everyone’s noticed. Soon you’ll have to make a choice.”
“I made my choice a long time ago,” I said, pointing at my cut. “Tartarus runs in my blood.”
Gunnar shrugged. “Still. Some people worry. Tonight’s meeting is your chance to appease them.”
“Fuck ’em. I’ve bled more for this club than most.”
“Calm down. I’m just saying.”
If a man like Gunnar already started to be wary of me, I had to be careful. When Gunnar and I entered the meeting room five minutes later, most patch-holders were already seated around the table and some leaned against the walls. Most nods I received were as friendly as in the past but I could see distrust in a couple of faces. Judging by Cody’s expression, he was probably the one talking shit about me. Earl sat at the head as usual. I took my seat beside him but he barely acknowledged my presence. We’d had arguments in the past, especially when I was a hot-blooded teen but it had never felt final. This time, it felt as if a rift had opened up between us that couldn’t easily be bridged. I wasn’t sure how to close it, wasn’t sure I wanted to try.
To my surprise, Earl didn’t open the meeting with the most obvious topic: the kidnapping. Instead, he wanted to discuss new routes for our weapon transports and a possible co-operation with other MCs. Considering how many we’d killed over the years, I doubted there would be many willing to talk, even if the Famiglia was a common enemy.
I was close to bursting when we were finally ready to move on to the next topic.
“How about we discuss Vitiello now?” I said, failing to mask my annoyance.
There were a few chuckles from older members who probably felt reminded of my teenage days when I constantly interrupted Earl and got banned from the table several times for my hot-blooded outburst.
Earl’s eyes cut to me, full of fury. “There’s nothing to discuss at this point. Vitiello fails to get off his high horse and as long as that’s the case, the Italian whore stays with us.”
The insult incited a new wave of rage in me which I had trouble extinguishing. I slammed my fist down on the table. “Tartarus doesn’t torture women. We deal with our enemies, not their children. We want Vitiello and he offered himself to us. Let’s finally get our revenge. It’s time. I call for a vote.”
Earl sank back in his chair, but his played calm didn’t fool anyone. His eyes reflected the same fury I felt. If it wouldn’t have made him look weak, he would have shouted right back at me and refused the vote.
“Then let’s vote,” he said with a harsh smile. “Who’s voting for yes, we should keep the Vitiello whore until Luca Vitiello shows us the respect we deserve and has suffered for all the brothers he tortured and killed. Or no, if you want to end this quickly for him and his spawn.”
I gritted my teeth. The way he worded it, the vote was already lost. I could see it in the expressions of my club brothers and their affirmative nods.
As expected, only three voted with no, Gunnar, Gray, and I, while the rest, more than ten men voted to keep Marcella and let Luca suffer through her. Maybe I should have seen it coming. The more moderate voices in our club had become Nomads over the years or joined smaller chapters of Tartarus in Texas or up north because they didn’t want to be involved in our revenge plans. The men who remained now were absolutely loyal to Earl and in line with his radical views.
When the meeting was over, I stayed in my chair and watched how my club brothers went to the bar to celebrate a successful meeting. Gunnar touched my shoulder in passing. “You tried,” he said. “Soon this will be over and then we can focus on better things than revenge.”
I nodded, but I didn’t believe it.
Earl spotted me and came back in, towering over me. “The whore needs to move out of your room, Mad. She’s messing with your mind. It’s the Vitiello gene. This is our moment of revenge, don’t allow her to ruin it.”