With a smile, I reached for the doorknob when Neon called.
“Swan Lake?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“Just…” She paused. “Just…thanks.”
I nodded with a smile even though she couldn’t see me. “Sure.”
As I closed the door behind me, I experienced a feeling that swirled around in my chest. Something warm and comforting. Something that felt a lot like…hope.
Maybe after everything that had happened, we’d all somehow manage to find a sliver of peace.
Maybe.
13
Granite
My fingers duginto Onyx’s throat. “You need to calm the fuck down.”
“And you need to man up. Let us go kill those fucking sons of bitches.”
I shook my head and gritted my teeth. “I told you, I’m never underestimating those assholes again. Look at what happened to Neon. What happened to Junkyard. Are you really so fucking selfish you would risk any more lives by rushing into this without a goddamn plan?”
Onyx grabbed at my hand around his throat. “At least I don’t want to hide like a fucking coward.”
I shoved him harder into the wall and let him go with a jerk, stepping back. “I don’t give a shit what you think of me, Onyx. You wanna go get yourself killed, then go. I ain’t no fucking babysitter. You do whatever the fuck you want, but you do it on your own.”
Lifting my hand, I etched my glare on Onyx’s face. “Everyone who thinks we should rush back to NYC now, raise your hands.” I was so confident my crew had my back, I didn’t even turn around. “Everyone who thinks we lay low until we have a solid plan, raise your hand.”
By the sound of leather cuts creaking, I knew my crew had my back. And judging by the way Onyx’s face fell, he could see that too.
I crossed my arms. “You have a choice, Onyx. Either you fall in line, or you fuck off.” I turned to face the rest of the guys. “And this is the last fucking time anyone lifts a hand to another crew member. The only person allowed to kick ass around here is me.”
Onyx straightened his cut with a jerk, those blue orbs of rage glowering at me like I was the fucking son of Satan.
He clenched his jaw, leaning forward. “You’re making a mistake.”
“Then it’s my mistake to make.”
Like a savage, Onyx spat on the ground, making a huge goddamn show of how much he disliked my decision—disliked me. But this was not a fucking popularity contest. This war was real life. And this was real fucking war.
Onyx stormed out, and I relaxed my shoulders, reaching for my pack of cigarettes.
“He’ll calm down.” Dutch rubbed his hand over his bald head. “If it’s worth fucking anything, I think you made the right decision.”
“Yeah, tell him that.”
“Onyx is young. An adrenaline junky. He still needs to learn control.”
I snorted. “I don’t think my brother will ever learn control.”
“We can only hope, man. Yo, Ink,” Dutch looked his way, “you okay over there?”