“What purpose would that be? Max was only fifteen years old. A kid.” Shadow asked.
“I don’t know. This is all purely hypothetical, but I knew James hated his father. My own father said as much. James did everything he could to distance himself from his dad. When William was killed, James threw a fucking party. He actually celebrated. Even Diablo wanted nothing to do with William. The only person who tolerated him was Caroline. But she was just as crazy as he was.”
“And don’t forget they worked together to solidify Reaper’s ascension in the club.” Massacre said.
“You think William had Max do something while he was held, don’t you?” Phantom asked, quickly catching on.
I nodded. “Yeah. I do.”
“That’s pretty fucked up if you ask me,” Shadow said. “To put your son in a situation knowing what those fuckers would do to him, then ask him to fulfill a request? I don’t see a fifteen-year-old boy who suffered a trauma like Reaper being able to do anything.”
“Max was never the same when he came home. He was closed off, angry. He lashed out at everyone, even William. That’s when James put him in all those defense classes. Anything to help Max jettison the raging demon inside him.”
“Uh guys,” Bayou muttered, his nose deep in a file. “We have another problem.”
“What?” I asked.
“According to this file and with the others I’ve read, the Original Seven Members worked in conjunction with the Division helping them to traffic people, move drugs in and out of the country along with weapons. I have a long laundry list of everything the Skulls aided in and it ain’t pretty.”
“We already know that,” I sighed.
“What you don’t know is that two members of the Original Seven refused to fall in line. Xavier Goldman and this missing member. The name is faded. I can’t read it.”
“His name was Jefferson St. James.” Gideon St. James said, stepping out of the shadows. “My grandfather.”