Dutch was waiting outside the door for us, smoking a cigarette. “We have a problem.”
Granite paused. “What is it?”
“There’s a new drug going around on the street.”
I scowled. “Snow?”
Dutch shrugged. “That’s what everyone’s calling it. But three people died the last two weeks, and twelve have been hospitalized—that we know of.”
Granite swept his fingers through his hair, pacing up and down while cursing. “Snow belongs to the Sixes on these streets. But their shit’s always been pure. If it’s killing people, it’s mixed.”
“The Sixes aren’t behind this,” I continued with his thought. I looked at Granite. “But I think we know who is.”
Dutch didn’t reply. But the way he stared at Granite with fury burning in his eyes, lips pulled taut, chest rising and falling like he had the devil’s anger burning in his lungs—we knew who it was.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” I threw my hand in the air before placing it on my head, crouching down.
Dutch crossed his arms. “We have to end this.”
“And we will.” Granite stopped pacing, his gaze cutting to mine. “We will end this.”
I bit my lip, a sour taste lingering in the back of my mouth. This vortex of hell was only getting bigger and bigger, and Slither was sucking in victim after victim. But I’d be damned if I’d let him destroy us.
“Come on.” Granite gestured toward the door, and Dutch followed.
“By the way, what happened to Ink’s face?”
“Two words. Neon. Boot.”
Dutch snorted then followed us inside.
Manic and Ink were already seated, and I walked right up to my spot when Granite cleared his throat, glancing from me to his chair.
“No, man. Not yet.” I shook my head lightly, and Granite got the message.
The door swung closed behind Dutch, and when all of us took our seats, a heavy silence fell over us. No one wanted this. Everyone knew this wasn’t the natural order to do things. But it had to be done. I realized this yesterday when I saw Slither beating Ink, when I got so close to losing someone else I cared about. I couldn’t let that happen.
The gavel was on the table, to Granite’s right. It only got used when really important decisions were made—lifechanging decisions. Other crews used their gavels with every meeting. But not us. To us, it was fucking sacred, the holy grail when it came down to passing our laws. The last time we used it was when we made the decision as a crew to kidnap Alyx and frame the Pythons. That was months ago when Granite hit the gavel, sealing Alyx’s fate…and ours.
When everyone was seated, Granite cleared his throat. “I don’t think a long speech is necessary. We all know why we’re here and what needs to be done.”
No one responded. Not even a nod.
“None of us knows our fate. None of us knows what the future holds. But what we do know, the Pythons need to be stopped. And that’s exactly what we’re going to do, with Onyx as our new president.”
I gulped. It was a hard pill to swallow, thinking that I was about to dethrone my brother from a chair he so rightfully deserved. But I understood why it needed to be done. The Kings had been under attack for fuck knew how long now, and all my brother had left was his honor, and Alyx. He would protect Alyx, and I would step up to protect his honor.
Ink scratched his beard. “Who’ll be the new the VP, then?”
“Granite, obviously,” I stated.
“No.”
I looked at Granite, all sorts of confused. “What do you mean, no?”
“I’m stepping down, Onyx. That means I’m not going to sit in this chair again. Ever.”
“That’s bullshit!”