Tyrant (Satan’s Angels MC #1)

Chapter 22

Tyrant

H enry is waiting just outside the door when Lark urges me into that meeting. She doesn’t want to take up more time than she should, but I want her to take it all. I want to give it all to her. She’s selfless though, putting the club first.

It takes all my strength to leave them, but the door is locked, and this is the safest place in Hart. It might have been a while since any of us were called to arms, but I don’t doubt the ferocity of my brothers for a second.

I head down the hall and make a left. I pass the row of my brother’s rooms. My own. Was it just a few weeks ago that Raiden was hauling me out of here before anyone could see their leader in that state? It’s worse now. I’m going to go into that room where we hold our sacred church and I’m going to bare my soul to them. I have done so much wrong. I want a chance not to make up for it, but to make them a world that doesn’t look like this one right now. I can’t fix this on my own. I need my club around me.

I nearly crash into Raiden as he rounds the corner from the back of the club. He’s got vengeance burning in his eyes and I know right now isn’t the time for us to hash it out over Lark.

“I’ve got everyone but Wizard, assembled. I was just coming to get you.” We’ve been inseparable for so long that he reads the doubt clean out of my heart. “It’s good to have you back. We’ve got you and we’ve got this town. Hart is ours and no one is going to come in here and take it. In war or peace, we’re brothers. We fight together and die together, we ride together and live together.” I don’t have my vest on, but Raiden splays a big hand over my back and traces out the form of our bowed angel. I’ll wear that just as proudly as I would my leather and all the patches on it. “No one is going to come in here and divide us. You have the full force of Satan’s Angels MC behind you, Prez.”

I love these men and this club so much that it’s hard to breathe.

Raiden’s not nearly finished. “They’re going to pay a thousand times over for what they did to you, especially Zale. There’s no way he’s going down catching a bullet. If he’s so fond of knife play, we’ll give him what he wants.”

Raiden opens the door, and fuck me, it’s good to be home. The only thing that has ever made me feel like I’m truly free, until Lark and Penny came back for good, was riding down an open ride, flying our colors.

I look over the assortment of men in the room. As motley, and for the most part, outlaw style ugly, as usual. We’re proud of our beards and our hair, our tattoos, our scars, and our flaws. The room is thick with smoke, whiskey, the smells of leather and men, and the low hum of conversation more than interspersed with inventive cursing.

There’s one huge table in here, an antique beast that has made its home in this warehouse longer than we’ve owned it. When the club took over, it was either chop the thing into firewood or let it live on. I like its scarred oak top, worn smooth in areas, gouged and chipped in others.

My brothers are gathered around it, officers in their heavy wood chairs, prospects and my other club brothers gathered around behind them.

Gunner is technically the VP and now that I’m back, Raiden should return to his regular position, but Gunner indicates that he’s more than happy to hand the room over to us with that cold, blue-eyed stare and a hard thump to the table that quiets the room instantly.

Raiden stalks to the front, crosses his arms, and brings church to an immediate start. “I’ll make this brief because most of it everyone here already knows. For those that might not, you’re hearing it all. That’s what we need to make an informed decision.”

He outlines all the information he knows on my father and this new threat. Most of it is undoubtedly for my benefit, because even though I spent days with them, it wasn’t in the most hospitable of circumstances, and they weren’t talkative bastards. It wasn’t like they were filling me in on plans and club structure between beating me half senseless.

“Normally it’s just officers in here, but tonight, we want everyone to have a say. We need to figure out where we go from here. Weigh what war would cost us and Hart. This is our town, our people. It’s not just our club that’s at risk. Not just our families either. Hart might be a small city, but there are so many civilians who could end up getting hurt, not to mention all the people here who make their living off bumping up against us. Anyone who wants to speak to that, can do so now.”

All eyes shift to me as I walk to my seat and lower myself down. I try to pretend I’m not hurting, but it’s starting to feel like I have the very sun itself sewn up inside my skin. Think getting shot hurts? Try having some fairly essential organs get a daily kicking—not to mention the stuff the Berserker’s psychopaths did with their fucking box cutters and other implements of torture. The painkillers have finally worn off and I’m starting to really feel that missing finger as more than phantom pain, but I need to be clear-headed for what lies ahead.

Blake, one of our prospects, stands beside the other prospects near the back. The room is huge, so not the back of the room, but the back of the table and the action, behind the regular brothers. There are five of them now and they all have bugged out eyes as they prepare to hear what I’ve got to say. This is a first time, sacred experience for them.

It’s beyond sacred to me too, no matter how many times I do this.

Blake clears his throat nervously, but his voice is rough as racking out on gravel. “Just wanted to say, Tyrant, that we’re glad you’re back. Also, there probably isn’t a man in this room including us prospects who want to be a part of this club more than anything because you’re all family to us and some of us weren’t raised with much of anything at all, let alone people who gave a fuck about us, who don’t want to see Zale Grand dead.”

An ominous silence fills the room. No one mutters assent to that, but I can tell that if we took a vote now, my brothers would be in favor of war to a man.

“I failed you all,” I start. I sound like a beaten down, broken man, but with every word I say, my voice gets stronger. “I didn’t kill my father. You knew that if we failed to cut off the head of the beast, it would rise again. I’m solely to blame for this. I’m humbled and honored that you’d accept me back here as your president and brother, knowing full well that I’ve made so many mistakes.”

Some heavy throat clearing goes on around the table.

Raiden is still standing at the head of the table. He sets a hand on my shoulder. “Like I said, you’ve been punished more than any man ever should. You’ve bled for this club. You’d live and die for it. We’re a family, not a bunch of ruthless pricks all wearing the same patches. It might be fucking cheesy to say that you have a good heart, but you do. Ever since you were a kid, people looked at you and saw trash. They saw this no-good outlaw biker scum that you’d become because of who your dad and granddad were, but you proved them all wrong. You made people love you because they couldn’t help themselves. It’s not charisma that draws them in. It’s your loyalty. Your intelligence. You’re not afraid to use your fists, but you’re not scared to use your brain either.”

He pauses and I want to interrupt but I can’t think of a single thing to say. Instead, my eyes are fixed on the table feeling all kinds of awkward and emotional hearing my best friend talk about me this way.

“No one would call you weak. Even the best men make mistakes. We did as a club, asking you to take on our burden as a collective. You might have asked to be the one to see your father out, but there isn’t a man in this room who should have let you. Zale was a problem for all of us back then, and he’s still our problem. We might be a small club when it comes down to it, with no reinforcements, but that is the difference between his club and ours. We don’t bleed for ourselves. We bleed for each other. But…” Raiden snaps a wrinkled, bloodstained piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolds it. “Maybe there doesn’t have to be blood.”

He sets the note down in front of me. It’s all I can do not to reach up and rub the wounds on my forehead where those staples sunk into my skin.

A heavy pause and then the room erupts into chaos.

After a few minutes of the overwhelming shouting, Scythe bangs his fist on the table and shoots out of his chair. Beads of sweat glisten on his shaved, tattooed head. He’s not a tall man, but he’s got a lot of power in his lean, muscled frame. He appeared in Hart out of nowhere and started hanging around the club years ago, when my dad was still running the place. From what I’ve gathered, he used to be into cage fighting and not the legal, above ground kind either. He hasn’t had to maintain order in church for years. We’re not the kind of club that is constantly at each other’s throats, giving our sergeant-at-arms a workout.

“Here are the options, as far as I’ve heard from the shouting.” The acoustics in here are similar to a real church and his voice carries through the open space, reverberating off the brick walls and the unfinished ceilings. “We don’t bring war to Hart. We take it to them. It’s understandable that some of you shouted that down. We’d be going into unfamiliar territory, and we’d be far outnumbered. The second option is, we let them come to us, but that means collateral damage and casualties. I don’t mind giving my life for this club, but I don’t have a family to think about. The third is we listen to their demands and see what we can do for each other, could be that new allies are made. Upside of that is that we protect our town and things don’t turn into a bloodbath. Downside is that we could all meet our end with a knife in the back. Final option, we go straight for the top and finish what we started with Zale, we don’t know how high he ranks in the Berserkers, and that could lead to all-out war. Anyone else got anything to say that I missed?” The room is utterly silent. “Good.” He sits back down, handing it back over to me.

“We need to take a vote and it has to be unanimous. I’m not leading this club to war or settling on peace if there is anyone not in agreement. I think we need to vote on war or attempting to make an alliance and then figure out how we do that and vote on that.” My face is hot with guilt over us being here at all, but the nods of my brothers reassure me. This isn’t something I’ll forget about. Ever. I hope that will only make me a better leader. These men have far more faith in me than I do myself, and that means more than the entire goddamn world.

We don’t do a closed voting system. In the past, we’ve hashed it out. Voting isn’t designed to divide the club. Men can change their minds without fault and often they do, after hearing others raise their voice.

“Every opinion is valid here,” Raiden says, picking up where I left off. “Those in favor of an alliance and not going to war?”

A few hands go up. It’s clear that most want to end this, but those with families and loved ones in Hart are hesitant. When I raise my hand for an alliance, a few of my brothers start muttering and then a few more hands are raised. Eventually, a few more go up and then the rest follow.

“This isn’t a question of not giving your life for the cause.” Raiden’s voice booms out. “It’s about fighting for the man beside you, for this club, and for this town, and sometimes the best way to do that is without spilling blood. This isn’t to say that it won’t eventually come down to it or that Zale Grand won’t eventually get what he’s due. We all know that real power comes from the body of the club caring for each man and not just himself and his own greed.” He unfolds that creased, stained piece of paper and takes out his phone. He raises a brow at me, and I nod. “This is a negotiation we’re all present for, yes?” I nod again. He dials the number, puts the phone on speaker, and sets it down on the table.

We’re all tense as it rings.

We’re expecting a rough biker, so when a woman’s voice purrs on the other end, every man in the room is stunned. “Raiden Gardiner.”

I want to vomit at the fact that they have Raiden’s number. Maybe it was just a lucky guess, but I think not. What else do these people know about us? There should be a limit to my father’s knowledge and foresight only goes so far. Unless they have a tech genius, or multiple people like Wizard working with them, this is chilling.

Whoever she is, she doesn’t waste time. “You’re calling because you want to know what our demands are. You’ve done the sensible thing. You’ve realized you’re outmanned and outmaneuvered. We want an unshakable alliance. Blood tied to blood, plus five of our men in your club. Don’t worry…” Her laugh is bitter, a wounded animal howling to the moon. It sits in my stomach like ice. “They’d be the nomadic sort, but most of their allegiance lies with us. We know you wouldn’t agree to our officers joining your ranks. Of course, since business has never been better, we’d expect a cut of your profits, paid directly to our mother chapter. We’d like to be neighborly and extend the offer, but we know you wouldn’t take us up on it. You’re not going to like it, but it’s this, or we take everything you have by force. We’ve already proved how easily we can maim you. Don’t make us prove the full extent of our power. We wouldn’t stop until every single one of you and all those connected to you is dead.”

Fists curl and oaths are muttered around the room, but not a single man loses control outright. I’m sure my color was off to begin with, but now I feel like a ghost.

There’s no mistaking the murderous fire burning in Raiden’s eyes. They look so much like Lark’s. She had the same expression at Archer’s clinic.

His control slips just for a second. “Who the fuck do we have the displeasure of addressing?”

That laugh again, ice shards on a winter morning. “Widow Grand, Zale Grand’s daughter. Princess in my own right.”

“Widow fucking Grand,” Raiden mocks. “Your daddy not there to answer the phone?”

“Oh, he’s here. He just thought it would be a sweet fucking irony for me to tell you myself the terms of peace. We know that’s why you’re calling. My brother’s not running an MC. He’s running a little boys’ club made up of pussies who don’t want to spill blood or get their fists bruised.”

That definitely works the room up, but Scythe is there, ready and waiting to knock skulls together if a single brother speaks out of turn.

“Anyway,” she drawls, sounding bored. “You want peace? You’ll make room for five of our members to join your club. We’d take some of yours, but you don’t have any to spare, and your dicks aren’t big enough to stand up to a measuring down here in a real club. We have one more condition. I’ll send you my CV…” She laughs like all of this, our lives and futures and families, are a joke. “You can decide who you’d like me to marry to solidify the alliance through blood. My dad suggests Raiden. Gray fucked your sister, so you might as well fuck his, no?”

Raiden grabs his phone and hurls it to the floor. It shatters on contact, spraying glass and parts like shrapnel, effectively ending the call.

“Jesus Christ,” Blake mumbles from the back. “That’s a lot of sister fucking, don’t you think?”

Scythe whips up and out of his seat again. “This is exactly why prospects aren’t allowed in meetings. They don’t know when to shut their fucking mouths.”

Raiden is red, struggling for breath, but he aims a finger around the room. “I didn’t get to give my blessing because things got complicated, but I’m giving it now. There’s no man in the world I’d rather have for my sister, let there be no doubt about that. Is it any fucking wonder they wanted to keep their business private?”

Very wisely, no one responds to that question. It’s clear that Raiden would throttle them and no matter what state I’m in, I hear anyone even think about disrespecting my woman and they’re going to get destroyed on the spot.

Crow, who is normally so quiet, speaks, surprising us all. “Is there any way that could be real?”

I shake my head, punching at the laptop. “I don’t know. It’s possible. Zale barely talked about his ex-wife. My mom and I never saw her again after she left town. Figured she didn’t want me and wanted even less to do with Zale. She was dead to him. It could be possible that there was another woman in some other town. Some ride, one night. That’s all it takes. He might have multiple kids he never mentioned.”

“Unless they turned out like you, that’s far too many reproductions of the truest bastard I’ve known in a good while,” Bullet rasps. He raps his knuckles on the tabletop, his heavy rings smacking the surface. “They can’t really expect that one of us would just marry that ?”

I can’t imagine the chaos of this fucking ‘peace.’ I don’t know my father at all. I don’t even want to call him my father anymore. He severed that connection with his knife and his men when he broke his word and came back to destroy my life.

“This is just Zale and his men fucking with us,” Reckless reasons. As the club’s old VP, he knew Zale well, probably better than the rest of us, but did any of us really know him at all?

A madness settled into him and hasn’t left. It’s only worsened over the years. Was that always the real man? Was the rest of it just a mask until he could gather up enough power to flex his might? How would anyone know?

“This is going to take some thinking on and another vote before we decide on anything. None of us expected war and I’ll be endlessly sorry that my actions five years ago have brought us here now. I don’t know how much time we have, but however many days or hours are left for us, we need to take them. If we allow this to happen, we’ll have to have a plan in place that can be executed flawlessly.” I pause as my eyes track the room, meeting the gaze of all my club brothers, “Once there are spies and rats living amongst us, there can be no secrets. The only thing I know for certain is that Zale Grand has to be eliminated. If anyone has some solid ideas on how we do that without starting a full-scale war, and we still don’t know our enemy yet, I’m open to hearing them. We’ll take the night to think and meet back in the morning for another vote—”

“Let them come.” Gunner pounds his chest, cutting me off before I can say anything else. He exudes menace and terrible promise. Not for the first time, I’m glad he’s on our side. “We’ll make a plan, and we’ll make sure it’s ironclad. A plan for vengeance. We all respect your fairness, Tyrant, but there’s a time for it and there’s a time for playing dirty. You’ve tasted the edge of Zale’s blade. Let him drink the fine wine of our collective steel. If he wants blood in this club, he’ll have it eventually. We learn our enemy, draw them close, and then we strike like a viper.”

One by one, my brothers bang their fists on the table in agreement. Raiden stands at my side, snorting like a demon, but even he eventually thumps a heavy, tattooed fist onto that scarred wood surface. The men standing stomp their boots and a lusty, blood curdling cry rips through the room, voices raised in assent.

They’re waiting on me, as prez, to lead them. I have the final say, but I use it to give my brothers what they want. “Alright, then. We meet back in the morning to plan not for vengeance, but for our freedom and safety, and if the only means of securing our future is justice, then it will be done.”